The Ex-Boyfriend's Handbook Part 27

'Sit on it.'

'I only asked.'

'No, I mean, sit on top of it, and I'll show you.'

I perch on the ball and wobble unsteadily, nearly falling over backwards.

'What's the idea of this?'

'Core stability,' says Sam.

'I didn't know my core was unstable.'

Sam smiles patiently. 'Get up and I'll demonstrate.'

As I stand in front of her, she puts both hands on my shoulders and gives me a little shove. I nearly fall back onto the exercise mats.

'Ouch. What was that for?'

'Now you do the same to me. See if you can move me. In the physical sense, of course.'

This will be easy. I'm probably at least twice Sam's weight. I put my hands on her shoulders and push, at first lightly, and then I put a little more beef behind it. But when it comes to it, despite pus.h.i.+ng as hard as I can, I can't even budge her.

Sam grins triumphantly. 'Core stability. Like anything in life, you need a solid foundation.'

'Is this another one of your training philosophies, or are you trying to lecture me about relations.h.i.+ps again?'

'I'll let you work that one out.'

Sam directs me to sit back on the ball, and I just about manage to get my balance when she hands me a couple of five kilogram dumbbells. 'Now, shoulder press. Twenty. If you can manage them.'

'No problem.' I've been lifting nearly twice as much recently, but when I first try and press the weight, I almost topple over again. 'What the...'

Sam catches me. 'Steady, Eddie. Take it slowly.'

What I thought would be easy turns out to be exactly the opposite. I just about manage the twenty, before Sam flips me over and tells me to rest my feet on the ball in the press-up position. If the previous set was difficult, then this is nearly impossible, and I complete about five before I slump on my face on the floor.

We progress through a series of sit-ups, squats against the wall, and back raises, until I collapse on the mat from exhaustion. And yet, it feels good. I feel like I can take what Sam throws at me, and give it a proper go. What's more, I'm building a solid foundation.

And I'm starting to appreciate just how important that is.

Tuesday 1st March.

7.54 p.m.

'Universal Laser Correction?'

I'm round at Dan's, leafing through a brochure he's given me on a new laser eye surgery clinic that's just opened up in Hove.

'Don't worry,' he a.s.sures me. 'It's just like going to the dentist, really.'

'Except the dentist can't blind you. Doesn't it hurt?'

'What?' says Dan. 'You've got the chance to be free of those ridiculous gla.s.ses for ever and you're worried about a little discomfort?'

'And you've had it done yourself, have you?'

'Not exactly.'

'So why should I?'

'Have you never heard the phrase "Men who wear gla.s.ses get women with fat a.r.s.es"?'

'I'm not sure that's quite how it goes.'

'Anyway, what's a few days' mild discomfort compared to a lifetime's freedom from being called speccy four-eyes.'

'You're the only one who calls me that. You could just stop.'

'And your vision's only going to get worse, particularly now your girlfriend's gone.'

'What do you mean?'

'You know. It makes you go blind...'

'Don't be disgusting.'

'Well, at least go for a check-up. It doesn't cost anything.'

I point to a paragraph in the brochure. 'What about the fifty-pound consultation fee?'

'Oh, yeah,' says Dan. 'Apart from that.'

Wednesday 2nd March.

11.14 a.m.

I'm in the office, dialing the number for Universal Laser Correction. After one ring, a girl's voice answers.

'h.e.l.lo, ULC.'

I suddenly wonder if they chose that acronym on purpose. 'Yeah, hi, I'd like to make an appointment for a consultation please.'

There's a pause while she checks in the diary. 'How about Friday?'

'Friday? As in the day after tomorrow?'

'That's right. How does ten a.m. suit you?'

With Natasha currently going through one of her nearly human phases, I think I should be able to get the morning off work. 'Sounds fine.'

'And do you wear gla.s.ses or contact lenses?'

'Gla.s.ses. Does that make a difference?'

'Yes,' she says. 'It means that if you want to go ahead with the procedure, we can do it on the same day.'

I swallow hard. 'The same day?'

'That's right. And just to let you know, we're doing our special opening offer this week. One hundred pounds off if you have both eyes done.'

I wonder for a moment who'd bother only getting one eye treated. It doesn't occur to me until later that it might be because some people go in and have one done first, and find it so painful that they can't bring themselves to go back in for the other.

'Er...Great.'

'All I'll need is your credit-card number. For the consultation fee.'

'I need to pay now? I can't pay on Friday?'

'We find it's better if patients pay up front,' she says. 'Stops them getting cold feet and not showing up.'

'That happens, does it?'

There's a pause, and then a very implausible, 'No.'

Friday 4th March.

7.21 a.m.

When I tell Sam what I'm up to, she looks horrified.

'Whew. I'm not sure I could go through with that. What if it goes wrong?'

'Thanks a lot. Anyway-that's easy for you to say. Your eyes are perfect.'

'Pardon?'

'Vision. You've got perfect vision.'

'How long are you in for?'

'Out on the same day, apparently. And they say I should be OK to train on Monday.'

'Well, we'll work you extra hard today anyway,' she says, a glint in her eye. 'Just in case.'

Ten minutes later, I'm starting to regret telling her.

'So tell me, Sam,' I puff, in a vain bid to get more rest time. 'How did you get into this personal training lark?'

Sam effortlessly hoists a couple of weights up off the floor and hands them to me. I nearly drop them, they're so heavy.

'Well, I was a dancer as a kid, but then I got...'

'Too old? Too fat?'

Sam pokes me in the stomach. 'No, injured. I broke my ankle, and after that I couldn't really dance the same again. So I did an aerobics training course, worked in a gym for a while, and then this. Plus I'm a real s.a.d.i.s.t, and this seemed the only legal way to get money and torture people at the same time.'

Sam moves me on to a set of what she tells me are called 'lunges', which basically means that I hold a heavy weight in each hand, step forward onto alternate legs, and bend at the knee. After ten, I'm struggling with even holding on to the weights, let alone the fact that the burning in my thighs is almost unbearable.

'Sam, I don't quite get the theory behind this. You get me to exercise so I can hardly walk, and then you make me go on a run?'

'Ah, but that's what you're paying me for, you see. My expertise. I've spent years studying this so you don't have to. And anyway, I've got a surprise for you this morning.'

Oh no. Not another of Sam's surprises. 'An early finish, a taxi home, followed by a continental breakfast?'

'No, we're going to do a new kind of stretching. Pa.s.sive stretching, to give it its full name.'

'Whoopee,' I say, deadpan. 'That sounds really fun. Though I do like the word "pa.s.sive". That's the opposite of "active", right?'

'Sit down, and try and touch your toes.'

I do as instructed, and flop down onto the mat. Keeping my legs straight I reach forward and try and touch my toes, but only get about halfway down my s.h.i.+n before the pain in the back of my leg becomes too much.

'Ouch.'

'When was the last time you could do that, do you think?'

'I dunno. It's not the kind of thing I'd usually write in my diary.'

Sam kneels down behind me. 'Okay, well let me show you this. Try again, but this time, relax.'

I lean forward again, wondering how I can possibly relax given how much it hurts. But suddenly, I feel the not unpleasant sensation of Sam's chest pressed against my back, easing my torso forwards, and while it's still sore, somehow it also seems easier. What's more, I actually manage to touch my toes.

Sam holds me in that position for a few delicious seconds, then lets me up again. We move through various positions, Sam taking the time to push me carefully to greater extremes of flexibility, and by the time we've finished, I'm feeling so loose that I could probably get out of the gym by doing the limbo under the door rather than walking through it.

'There,' she says, 'that wasn't so bad, was it?'