Take Me I'm Yours, Willie

I called my brand new personal trainer-to-be Willie this morning to schedule our first appointment, where he'll assess my body, ask about my goals and design a program for me. He said 9:30 tomorrow morning.
He's a gorgeous, panther-black former military man who still competes in and wins body building contests.
Here was part of this morning's conversation:

Willie: Do you have a sports bra?
KZ: You must be joking.
Willie: Well, wear something tight on top so we can see what kinda shape your body is in. Like a tank top.
KZ: Okay.
Willie: Do you have biking shorts?
KZ: Yeah.
Willie: Well, wear those so we can see what your legs look like. Then we'll take some before pictures and we'll do your measurements and weigh you.
KZ: Do you have a wide angle lens?
Willie: A ha ha, I hoid that!
KZ: So, lemme get this straight, you are going to photograph me almost naked, then weigh me and take my measurements?
Willie: Uh huh. Then in six months we'll take more pictures...

Instant stomach ache.
You know how some people like to tidy up before the maid comes? Well, I freaked out and rode my bike for 30 minutes after we talked.
Now all I have to do is figure out how to pay for a personal trainer for the next six months. He's not sky high, but for what I am wanting it'll be at least $200 a month.
But by God, by January I intend to be able to crack pecans with my ass and be able to serve a salad on my belly, without any of the cherry tomatoes rolling off.
Hoo Rah!