Glove Connection

Glove Connection

 

Phillip lay in bed, swiping through the dating app, discouraged by all the "must haves" almost every woman had on their profile. The heart icon announced the few he saved that intrigued him. One he preferred – Emily – didn't live far from him and had many of the same interests. He focused on his own visage reflected on the phone screen. His chubby face mocked him, discouraging contact with anyone from the app.

He got up and walked into his bathroom to shower. Phillip stared down the man in the mirror, daring him to say something. Studying his reflection, his hand gripped the folds of fat around his waist. Every flaw he studied, intent on finding new ones he'd missed. He took inventory of each in his mind. Overweight. Complexion marred by childhood acne. Red hair that was starting to thin at the top. Tilting his head to the side, he evaluated his jawline. Weak, he thought to himself in disgust.

The names echoed in his head again. Fat Phil is the favorite of his past bullies. Phil McCrackin – always a reference to his plumber's butt. Philly Cheesesteak. PhilBilly. Fire Plug. The derogatory comments didn't stop when he switched to distance learning throughout high school or gave up on college. A new set of demons picked up the name-calling banner, focusing on his lack of gaming ability instead of physical straits.

Phillip grimaced at the memories and finished getting ready. Repulsed by himself, he was bloated out of his skin. Attempts were made to follow – and given up on – most of the significant diet fads. Atkins, South Beach, Keto, Paleo, Carnivore. It didn't matter. He never stuck with them long. His appetite often overruled his efforts, and the results – if they appeared at all – didn't emerge quickly enough to his satisfaction.

Time to try something different. His waiver form for the latest gym lay on his nightstand, waiting for him to start the journey. His new workout clothes lay on the unmade bed, ready for his first session. Phillip sighed to himself. I suck.

* * *

On a chilly, overcast early fall Saturday, Phillip started his adventure. The bus ride might have been more pleasant. Standing sandwiched between two teenagers, he imagined their mocking tone by the looks they gave him every time a bump or a turn caused him to sway into them. Lose some weight, fat ass.

He escaped at his stop and walked a few blocks to his newest fad – a kickboxing studio. As he approached, the small line of fit, healthy people streaming through the entrance for the same session drew his attention. Oh my god, I’m never going to keep up. Why did I think I could do this?!

Phillip followed the last of the athletic humans inside and produced his waiver form for an employee when asked.

"Welcome, Phillip! We're so glad to have you here, and excited about your journey. We'll partner you with a coach to get started and then go from there. Did you get a chance to read through the handout materials?" A sheepish yes escaped his mouth, and he shook his head no when the perky greeter asked if he had any questions.

It was like the first day of school, all the formalities, and nothing happened. Introductions galore, resulting in a sense of dread that he would mess up someone's name. Looking around, he tried to remember who spoke and tried to match a name with a face. When his turn arrived, all eyes were on him. "Phillip. My name is Phillip. Just trying to lose some extra padding," he joked, rubbing his overhanging belly. Within seconds, he forgot the names of those who spoke before him.

After the preliminaries finished, all the coaches divided the newbies into smaller groupings, and the coaches came up to introduce themselves. As the various groups wandered off together to chat, an inexplicable feeling of being watched washed over him. He turned back towards his group, and his new coach stood before him, a small hand outstretched in greeting.

"Phillip, right? I'm Emily. I'm your coach." She smiled genuinely at him and shook his hand vigorously when he offered it. "Really nice to meet you, Phillip," she said. His heart raced – it was the girl from the app! She stepped back into the center of the formed rough circle and started talking about expectations. Blood pounded in Phillip's ears, and his breathing started to labor. Sweat bloomed on his skin.

As Emily engaged with the group, her smile drew his unwavering attention. She was tiny compared to him but appeared capable enough to wrestle a bear. Her branded tank top showed off her toned physique. She wore little to no makeup and her light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. Phillip became aware he was looking at her too much, forcing his gaze to the ground.

* * *

On the bus ride home, thoughts of Emily invaded Phillip's mind. Sweat permeated his clothes, and he was sure other riders thought he stunk. Phillip managed a meek smile and tried to catch a whiff of pungency. I hope I didn’t stink like that around Emily, he thought.

The rest of the day, his time bounced between thinking about Emily and rereading the materials. Phillip went to stare down the man in the mirror multiple times, telling himself that he'd stick to it this time. Each day the following week, he diligently rose before dawn, pulled his athletic clothes on, and made the bus trek to the studio. A desire to lose weight initiated the journey; his continued motivation stemmed from a desire to be near his coach every morning.

She attended without fail, always cheerful, always encouraging. She helped everyone in their group but would spend extra time with Phillip when he struggled with a new move. Phillip's pulse quickened each time Emily demonstrated a kickboxing combination. Since joining, his anticipation was for more than the health benefits.

At first, he assumed she was just being friendly. As his group's leader, she motivated every member. But lately, it appeared to grow into something more. The way she lingered to chat with him, her hands lightly touching his arm as she corrected his form. The more time they spent together, the more he hoped she felt the spark, too. Something about Emily's warm smile and encouraging nature drew him in.

Phillip didn't do it intentionally; at first, he was hyper-aware of his inability to absorb the new knowledge and execute the moves. Left jab, right cross, what? Kick where? Wait, which foot is in front? Burpees!? But Emily jumped in to help him every time he struggled. She encouraged him whenever he messed up or did something wrong and congratulated him when he progressed.

The weeks started to fly off the calendar. Phillip began to joke with his crush and find opportunities to speak to her before or after their workouts. Their banter became more like flirting than a student-coach relationship.

Every day, he sought her out to ensure she was the last one he said goodbye to. He learned a few things about her, and each new nugget of information opened conversation opportunities for him. She loved hard candies. She hated peas. She adored dogs and despised cats. She was a graphics designer by education but wanted to enter the field of game design.

Only after she mentioned her Ohio roots did he venture a joke, noting in jest that as a University of Michigan fan, he'd try not to hold it against her. Their banter only increased throughout the college football season as they cheered for their home-state colleges.

Halfway through the twelve-week session, Phillip and his group had to check in and post their results in their fitness app. He loved the workouts, but his perceived lack of progress led him to believe he wasn't improving as much as he should have. Emily kept telling her students that non-scale victories are just as important as scale victories. Still, the man in the mirror didn't want to cooperate.

Every time Phillip studied his reflection, he discovered his flaws again. Flaws changed; some proved less noticeable, but others newly revealed themselves. Now, loose skin was apparent in areas where weight loss occurred. Gross, he thought. His old attire no longer fit well, and he knew his oversized shirts and baggy pants were unflattering. I’ll buy new clothes after Christmas, he promised himself.

He flopped onto his bed, phone in hand, muscles screaming at him from the latest class. With hesitation, Phillip logged into the app. He entered his session midpoint metrics – improvements, but not stellar in his eyes - and commented about his loose clothes in the notes section of the form.

The following Monday, Emily sought Phillip out before they hit the mat.

"Hey! I reviewed your mid-point progress – awesome job! I knew you could do it!" Emily beamed, and excitement exuded from her. "Remember those weight loss goals you gave on Day 1? You're more than halfway there! Look at you, rockstar!" Her voice raised an octave on the last sentence, and his embarrassment was immediate as he feared this would draw others' attention. To his horror, it did, but smiles and congratulatory fist bumps rewarded him. "Way to go, Phillip!" "Nice job, dude!" and "Awesome progress" accolades crashed on him from his peers. A forced smile spread as he thanked everyone, somewhat self-conscious about the interest. Emily stood on tiptoes and gave him a lingering hug. "Let's step it up now!"

 No time was wasted in ratcheting up the intensity for the group, including Phillip. Still, she seemed to push him harder than the rest of his group; at least, that was his perception. At first, the increased difficulty of the workouts overwhelmed him, but Emily's encouragement and smiles only grew with each passing day.

"Phillip, you're killing it," she'd say, giving his bicep a playful squeeze. "You're going to have that summer body by New Year's!" Every compliment from her made him both uneasy yet gave him warmth. He wanted to ask her out on a date, but the shame of his flaws continued to win out. Maybe in a few more months, I can ask her out, and she'd actually consider it, he told himself, shaking the fantasy out of his head.

The week of Thanksgiving arrived, and a sense of dread started to build for Phillip. His introductory session would end within a month, and he didn't know what that meant for his daily time with Emily. Would she still attend at the same time? Would she still talk to him, or were her interactions just part of being a coach?

Phillip was loosening up on the mat that Monday after class, thinking about when and how to ask her out when Emily made her way over next to him to stretch.

"Great job today! Your left hook is really improving." She exaggerated the move, making him laugh. They talked easily about nothing until the other students filtered out.

"So, got any exciting Thanksgiving weekend plans?" Emily asked, switching to a different stretching position.

"Not really, probably just TV and takeout," Phillip said. "What about you?”

"Same here." She hesitated. "You know, if you're not busy, maybe we could watch the game together or something?"

Phillip tingled with excitement. "I'd love to!" They exchanged numbers, both buzzing with anticipation about their schemes.

* * *

His time at the studio was typical, but his interactions with Emily became his motivator. They talked more throughout the week and even went for coffee after their workout on Thanksgiving morning. Each day, they chatted a little more, texted a little more, and flirted a little more. His excitement grew, but wariness still lurked in the corners of his mind.

Getting cleaned up for his date with Emily, he glanced in the mirror, and his flaws mocked him. It let the air out of his excitement. What does she see in me? She’s just being nice to me. I’m interpreting this the wrong way, he scolded himself.

A journey to the mall one evening that week resulted in finding a new outfit for their outing and a University of Michigan baseball cap to match. He didn't want to look all saggy and unkempt for Emily.

Saturday - the day of The Game - Phillip couldn't contain his excitement. He rode his regular bus that morning, his distorted reflection in the window staring back. Surprisingly, he appeared much thinner than was typical for the man in the mirror. The image looking back showed his smile. Things are changing!

He met Emily at the agreed-upon spot – about halfway between her apartment and his – and walked to the sports bar together. To neither's surprise, it was noisy and packed with fans of both teams. Once seated, she slipped out of her coat, revealing a new OSU hoodie; she was as beautiful as ever. "I thought it looked cute," she said in response to his gaze lingering on her sweatshirt.

"I think you're cute," he flirted.

They settled in, skimming the menu for food and drinks and chatting about various topics – the kickboxing studio and life in general. She commented about his health progress, and he focused on the tabletop, fidgeting with the drink coaster.

She reached over, placed her hand on his wrist, and squeezed to get him to stop. “You don’t see what everyone else sees, do you?” She paused, her intent gaze piercing him, and smiled. "Think about where you started. What you've accomplished in such a short time. I'm very proud of you. You told me early on that you've tried all those fad diets and shortcuts and never stuck with them. You're sticking with this. You've found something that's keeping you going. You should be proud of that. Be excited - I am!”

Phillip searched her eyes and blinked back his tears, attempting to escape. "I am excited. I just never….I never thought I could do this.” He paused, trying to discreetly wipe a forming tear. "I couldn't have done this without you, Emily. You're there every day for me. You keep me going, even when I don’t want to.”

Their food arrived, interrupting the moment. They exchanged playful banter about their teams as they ate, then settled in for the start of the game.

When OSU scored the winning touchdown, his crush leaped up, cheering. Laughing, Phillip grabbed her hand and pulled her in for a kiss. Time froze as she kissed him back, the bar full of shouting fans fading away.

Emily gazed at him with a delicate tenderness. "Don't give up on what you want, even if you think it’s out of reach. You may surprise yourself." Phillip squeezed her hand, his arms pulling her closer as his lips again found hers. Happiness enveloped him more than he had ever remembered.