I joined a good gym - it caters to people like me. No bodybuilders, just people who aren't perfect and want to get in shape. On a given day, one can see a college student working out next to an octogenarian. So far, the place has been perfect, since there has never been anyone there who makes me feel like a sand-inhaling geek.

No...all of the mockery is the job of the machines - especially the elliptical trainer. That machine is devious. The first time I used it, the thing didn't seem that hard - I was just moving my arms and legs, after all. Then I put my hands on the heart monitor.

188 beats per minute.

Whoa. Time to back off before my heart explodes, I guess. Achieving a higher heart-rate than my fetal child without sweating doesn't seem all that healthy. Makes me think the elliptical trainer is an adapted torture device that forces you to do all the work of putting yourself in pain. I love that the display is powered entirely by your work - a nice little 'hamster in a wheel' touch, there.

After spending some time listening to my heart palpitate, I decided to try out the weight machines.

The less said about that, the better.

Even worse than the exercise is the healthy, low-sodium food. I haven't put salt on my food for a few weeks now, but I still cheated by eating chips and more chips and sometimes french fries. And then some chips for good measure. This snack slippage happened mostly at work, so one day I tried to refill my snack drawer with good stuff - low-sodium crackers, low-fat chips and the like. I figured I'd wash it down with caffeine-free diet soda.

Again...how bad could a heart attack be, really?

I'm sure I'll get the hang of this stuff eventually, but if I do get healthy and lose weight, that brings up a major problem.

If I don't have a gut, where do I perch my laptop while slouching on the couch?