With no real choice in the matter Wanda and I start to work out in the community center. I lift weights in the AC community center and I also run, on alternate days.

For the new hires, male hires at any rate, running isn't a pleasant jog in the park. We run in a group and we run damn fast. If one of us lags, he gets chewed out like a raw recruit is chewed out by the Sergeant in the war movies. It's made very clear to us that it's shape up soon or ship out. Of course, I have no place to which to ship out. My situation adds a certain amount of urgency to my effort to get into shape.

The ladies don't run too often. Instead they do something called aerobic dance. They have something like a square dance caller whose main advice seems to be, "Jump, kick and get your fat butts into gear!"

It's a laugh, or it would have been a laugh if it wouldn't have cost me a divorce.

At first, Wanda and I get home after our workouts, eat supper flip on the tube for the news and then pretty much just go to bed. We're both exhausted from working out and we need the rest. Gradually we become accustomed to the routine and we're able to notice things around us instead of just participating in a near death march.

When we work out at the AC Community Center, the Wanda type girls wear sweat suits or big floppy shirts. The West coast type girls wear as little as they can get away with and not pop out of their workout outfits.

The new boys wear mostly sweat pants and tee shirts. The longer time boys wear pretty much the same thing only the tee shirts bulge with muscles.

Wanda and I both knew she was out of shape but I figured that I was in pretty good shape. However, it turns out that 'good shape' for men at AC means something like the cover of Big Muscles Magazine. A cover boy, I'm not.

It takes a while, but Wanda works up to the 'Ladies Intermediate Body Sculpting Class.' From the looks some of the long time ladies give her I see pity for her body and envy for her face.

With a lot of hard work, I move up and began to work out with the guys that the studs just laugh at instead of averting their gaze in disgust, as we walk past.

Our day work is going well and we're each on track for promotions. However, Wanda and I are each told that we have a lot of work to do on our bodies before we can expect to actually receive our hoped for promotions

The night workouts are tough. We each progress until the workouts start to get a bit easier, only to then see us promoted to the next higher workout class where the workouts are again very tough to do.

We both workout very hard, night by night. It's not fun, but we have no real choice and we're both making visible progress.

One night at workout, one of the studs finally tells me that I'm beginning to make some progress. He also tells me, "Once your wife gets into some sort of physical shape, you two can really join the community."

I think over what the guy said. I have noticed that our circle of acquaintances consists exclusively of couples where at least the woman looks like a tire company blimp. Apparently our social standing at AC is largely determined by our physical conditioning.

I rather cautiously bring the matter up with Wanda. She tells me that we can't expect to fit in with what she calls, 'the next level of AC people' until we're extremely fit. Wanda also tells me that both of us are making progress and that we can expect to begin to slim down and, in my case muscle up, enough to move up within a couple of months.

"Do you mean that our chances for promotion at work rest on the condition of our bodies?"

Wanda's answer is, "Yes. We're good workers but until we look as good as we work, we can't really expect promotions." Wanda also tells me that, "A couple of the girls have told me that I'm making progress, but that I need to lose the fat girl outfit."

Wanda, as you might expect, spends the next Saturday shopping. I mean the whole damn day.