Recently, my cohabitation partner in crime began going to a personal trainer. His trainer happens to be a woman, and from what I understand, she’s pretty damn intense. Though I’ve never met her in person, I actually have an image of her in my head where she’s something like a Victoria Secret model... one that could kick your ass and makes you do a bunch of burpees. Pretty dreamy.

In a recent conversation with one of my girlfriends, I mentioned the new personal trainer and how it’s inspired me, too, to get to more yoga classes and cut back a little on the ice cream. (To clarify, “cut back” means buying Ben & Jerry’s “Fro-Yo” rather than the regular flavors). My friend nodded and then asked, “Well, don’t you think you should talk about this with him?”

As in, your newfound fitness ambition is a clearly a result of your insecurity about him and the underwear model, and it's time to make an issue out of it.

Huh? This is where I get confused, and perhaps I should seek the counsel from fellow blogger Carolyn Evans for this, but what is there to talk about? The fact that my boyfriend is getting trained from a woman who probably has a rockin’ bod? Should I care more?

I thought about it for a little bit. And then I declared it to be the silliest thing of all. Isn’t my friend just being a little paranoid? Am I wrong? I feel pretty certain that if I had a good-looking personal trainer who happened to be a male, there wouldn’t be any issues. Because the personal trainer is performing a job... he’s not taking me out for an evening of drinks and dancin’.

Now if you’ll excuse me I have important things to worry about... like figuring out when I’ll be able to watch the Justin Bieber concert I recorded on the Today show this morning.

(Image courtesy of Nela Sportswear)