To Be a Gym Bunny! Part 1

Charles Atlas, my hypothetical man-fitness idol. Anyone else remember these wicked ads from comic books?

I have never been in a gym with the purpose of doing any kind of constructive exercise for my physical betterment. To me, a gym is a mythical place where people go to perform arcane rituals which somehow make them happy and healthy. There always seemed a palpable air of mystery about such places.
Unfortunately, at 27 years of age I find that I can no longer do whatever the hell I want and expect my body to maintain the slightly underweight but generally acceptable shape that I have had for the last decade. Hence, knowing that my previous exercise regime of incessant fiddling and walking from the couch to my bed was no longer doing the trick, I took the first tentative step into... the gym.
I joined up for 6 weeks, because I am a wuss. I have no idea how I’ll go with this.
The first step is to measure my fitness with numbers and stuff. I respect that.
Fun Fitness Fact: I have 18.5% body fat. I assume this means I am almost 1/5 made of fat. I remember hearing once that your body is 80% water. Therefore I am a wicked water/fat combination. That's straight science. This leaves 1.5% for other stuff, which I’m going to assume is, like, hair and fingernails. Yeah.
Another, more terrifying number: on a scale of 1-50 of fitness I am a 16. As a teacher I have to say that that, my friends, is goddamn unacceptable.
My blood pressure is 135/80. I don’t know what that means but, be honest, you don’t either. That act of taking my blood pressure made me feel quite faint though, which lead to a painfully embarrassing forced bonding session with my trainer while I tried to will my skin to regain its usual pigmentation without puking.
After a rocky start though, I got it sorted.

Stay tuned for what happens when I get unleashed on the gym by myself!