SILVER SNEAKERS (essay) Back

My supplemental insurance sent me a card to go to a

gym free.  It’s called Silver Sneakers.  I put that card

away for more than a year until one day, when 

passing the gym, I decided to go inside to see if

anyone, wondering if I had wandered away from

home, would call the cops.  Maybe if I dyed my hair it

might help, but instead I insist on growing old and

letting my crown turn super white. 

 

I decided to hire a Physical Trainer, Glen, a nice

young man, 42, tall and thin with long arms and legs. 

I’m 5’2” or used to be, with very short arms and legs,

not thin.  With his help I realized that glutes was not

short for Gluten, abs not a synonym for Arabs.  He

measured how much of my body weight was fat and

didn’t even run as he told me.  I found parts of me I

didn’t know I had, as they came alive screeching in

pain.

 

When we lay on our backs, so intimately, on the floor,

he turned his long right leg over his middle to touch

that knee to the floor on the left side of his body, and

wanted me to do it.  I looked deep into his eyes and

said that in one of my past lives I was Uma

Thurman’s twin sister and asked if he had ever seen

the movie Kill Bill?  He said, “Yes.”

 

I responded, “Your new name is Bill.”