Sweating Hope

The medical literature might be full of advice about exercise and health, warnings that a lack thereof is a cause for disease. But anyone who walks through the front doors of a gym won't readily admit that busting their tails with freeweights and treadmills is not as much for health as it is for looking good naked. I can take that a step further. As a personal trainer, I can tell you that I sell more than just the tool and instructions for looking good naked. I sell hope.

I'm selling the new mother the hope that her husband may still find her attractive and not have an affair with the assistance with the red curls and a youthful figure. I'm selling the morbidly overweight father the hope of living long enough so that his son may remember him as someone other than a fat father-figure who died three days before his 7th birthday. I'm selling the 50-year-old soon-to-be divorcee the hope that someone else will find her still desirable after her divorce is finalized. I'm selling the unhappy woman the hope that she will be thin and pretty enough so that she can confidently separate from her husband of twenty years. And to the 19-year-old college athlete I sell him the hope that his dad will for once be proud of him and that he'll pull some women after the championship game.

Forget health and toning. I sell hope, $90 an hour. Unfortunately, there's a wait list.