Read Online Body on the Stage by Bev Robitai - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Bev Robitai
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so tied up
here. I’ll try to pop out and see how you’re going once I’ve got
these figures unravelled. If I ever manage it.”
“Yes, it’s perfectly fine,” he
assured her. “You just do what you’ve got to do. Good luck!”
She rolled her eyes. “Thanks a
bunch!”
He muddled his way through the
exercises without too much trouble and counted the evening a
success. He’d done his workout, and he’d started to get to know the
other actors, so both his physical and social targets were being
met.
Cathy didn’t manage to escape
from whatever paperwork she was tied up with, so he popped his head
in her door as he was leaving.
“Hi Cathy, I’m off now. I had a
good workout, and I think I’ll still be able to walk tomorrow. How
did you get on with your accounts? Get them sorted?”
She waggled a hand from side to
side. “More or less.” She reached into a drawer. “Here, I’ve been
meaning to give you this. It’s a bit more extensive than that last
eating guide I gave you. Now that you’re working out, you should be
changing your whole diet to support your exercise.” She held up a
stapled handout. “This gives you a week’s meal plan from breakfast
to suppertime. If you can stick to this, you’ll lose fat and build
muscle quite quickly.” As he took the handout from her, she smiled
tiredly. “Sorry I wasn’t there for you tonight, but I do appreciate
having you here. Have a good night.”
The worry on her face saddened
him.
At home he consulted the
handout, following the instructions to make himself a seriously
healthy dinner. It was high in protein, low in carbohydrates, and
he found it surprisingly satisfying. A decent-sized chicken breast
with a good plate of salad seemed to fill him up, and he knew he
was still allowed a can of tuna and some rice wafers as his
late-night snack if he was hungry before bed-time. The switch from
beer to water was still a step too far, but diet ginger ale made an
acceptable alternative, being cold, brown and bubbly. When he
climbed between the sheets that night, with only a twinge of aching
muscles, he felt a virtuous glow.
At the next training session he
was determined to try to keep up with the other guys, or at least
to make a good showing in front of them. He didn’t want to feel
like the left-out fat kid, always picked last for the team and not
very good at anything. He reckoned with a bit of effort he could do
anything they could do. Eventually.
His illusions were shattered
quite quickly, and by an unexpected blow to his ego. He was
supposed to be doing his sets on the adductor muscle machine,
sitting astride a pair of knee-pads and squeezing them together.
The machine had just been vacated by a gentle white-haired old lady
when Dennis sat down. He bent to adjust the weight and blinked in
disbelief. She’d been pressing 35kg with those skinny old legs! The
most he’d been able to manage so far was 20kg. He had to lessen the
weight but he was going to look a complete wimp if anybody saw him
do it. Mark and Warwick were across the aisle doing quads and
hamstrings, and Ricky was behind him doing chest presses. Dennis
leaned forward, took the adjustor peg out of the hole, and bent
further forward as if inserting it lower down while actually
pushing it in higher up. As he sat up again he got a thumbs up from
Warwick and an approving grin from Mark. He nodded back to them in
manly acknowledgement and got to work on his sets, reminding
himself to reset the weight before he left the machine so his
deception would remain undiscovered. Perhaps in time he’d be able
to match the little old lady’s strength, he thought ruefully.
Vincenzo appeared at the far end
of the gym, his skin-tight lime green top showing off tanned and
muscled arms and his high-cut shorts displaying slim, taut thighs.
With gleaming smiles and friendly words to other gym-goers, he made
his way towards Mark and Warwick, preceded by a waft of
sweet-scented cologne.
“Hey guys, how you
here. I’ll try to pop out and see how you’re going once I’ve got
these figures unravelled. If I ever manage it.”
“Yes, it’s perfectly fine,” he
assured her. “You just do what you’ve got to do. Good luck!”
She rolled her eyes. “Thanks a
bunch!”
He muddled his way through the
exercises without too much trouble and counted the evening a
success. He’d done his workout, and he’d started to get to know the
other actors, so both his physical and social targets were being
met.
Cathy didn’t manage to escape
from whatever paperwork she was tied up with, so he popped his head
in her door as he was leaving.
“Hi Cathy, I’m off now. I had a
good workout, and I think I’ll still be able to walk tomorrow. How
did you get on with your accounts? Get them sorted?”
She waggled a hand from side to
side. “More or less.” She reached into a drawer. “Here, I’ve been
meaning to give you this. It’s a bit more extensive than that last
eating guide I gave you. Now that you’re working out, you should be
changing your whole diet to support your exercise.” She held up a
stapled handout. “This gives you a week’s meal plan from breakfast
to suppertime. If you can stick to this, you’ll lose fat and build
muscle quite quickly.” As he took the handout from her, she smiled
tiredly. “Sorry I wasn’t there for you tonight, but I do appreciate
having you here. Have a good night.”
The worry on her face saddened
him.
At home he consulted the
handout, following the instructions to make himself a seriously
healthy dinner. It was high in protein, low in carbohydrates, and
he found it surprisingly satisfying. A decent-sized chicken breast
with a good plate of salad seemed to fill him up, and he knew he
was still allowed a can of tuna and some rice wafers as his
late-night snack if he was hungry before bed-time. The switch from
beer to water was still a step too far, but diet ginger ale made an
acceptable alternative, being cold, brown and bubbly. When he
climbed between the sheets that night, with only a twinge of aching
muscles, he felt a virtuous glow.
At the next training session he
was determined to try to keep up with the other guys, or at least
to make a good showing in front of them. He didn’t want to feel
like the left-out fat kid, always picked last for the team and not
very good at anything. He reckoned with a bit of effort he could do
anything they could do. Eventually.
His illusions were shattered
quite quickly, and by an unexpected blow to his ego. He was
supposed to be doing his sets on the adductor muscle machine,
sitting astride a pair of knee-pads and squeezing them together.
The machine had just been vacated by a gentle white-haired old lady
when Dennis sat down. He bent to adjust the weight and blinked in
disbelief. She’d been pressing 35kg with those skinny old legs! The
most he’d been able to manage so far was 20kg. He had to lessen the
weight but he was going to look a complete wimp if anybody saw him
do it. Mark and Warwick were across the aisle doing quads and
hamstrings, and Ricky was behind him doing chest presses. Dennis
leaned forward, took the adjustor peg out of the hole, and bent
further forward as if inserting it lower down while actually
pushing it in higher up. As he sat up again he got a thumbs up from
Warwick and an approving grin from Mark. He nodded back to them in
manly acknowledgement and got to work on his sets, reminding
himself to reset the weight before he left the machine so his
deception would remain undiscovered. Perhaps in time he’d be able
to match the little old lady’s strength, he thought ruefully.
Vincenzo appeared at the far end
of the gym, his skin-tight lime green top showing off tanned and
muscled arms and his high-cut shorts displaying slim, taut thighs.
With gleaming smiles and friendly words to other gym-goers, he made
his way towards Mark and Warwick, preceded by a waft of
sweet-scented cologne.
“Hey guys, how you
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