Stumbled onto Chloe Ting

 

At some point during the past few years I decided that while I vastly enjoyed my lifestyle of fried cheese and Netflix, I probably should get round to being a bit more healthy and fit. Back in England, long before this lockdown (so long), me and a friend joined a gym and sort of motivated one another to attend classes; barre, Zumba, a bit of yoga and some insanely intense legs, bums and tums sessions. I am still trying to overcome the emotional trauma from these last ones. We are currently globally unable to go to a gym now, which initially sounded like a blessing, but I eventually had to admit that there were alternatives for working out. A friend pointed out I could go jogging, lift weights or find numerous workout schedules on YouTube. Party pooper. Reluctantly so, I began doing a few blogilates videos I had bookmarked over the years with cheery, chatty Cassie, who struggles along with you and assures you the pain you feel is mutual. But those ‘6 Minutes to a Sexy Booty’ were just not sufficient as bi-weekly exercise. And then the second party pooper came along; another friend who introduced me to Chloe Ting.

Let me be absolutely clear; I hate Chloe Ting. I hate her music; it is the sort of music I would never listen to. A weird mix of RnB, dubstep and Autotune pop. I obviously now know a bunch of these songs by heart now because there isn’t a wide selection of them. To be fair, I think I have very seldomnly enjoyed any trainer’s music, apart from that one Barre instructor that had a great ‘Florence and the Machine’ and ‘Marina and the Diamonds’ playlist. But Chloe’s songs have me begging for lyrics when they’re instrumental and cursing whatever lyrics tell me I need to work hard to get where I want for myself and no one else. Can’t we all agree that lyrics in workout music should be about what we are all really working towards? Cheese pies and salted caramel brownies?

I hate her voice. I am sure her voice is fine, but there is no struggle there! She is just going through 500 ab repetitions as if they are chocolate chip cookies! And her voice is controlled and passive. She attempts to strip you of your God-given right to moan and complain, but I won’t have it; I have earned the right to be unfit through 26 hard-working years of watching series and lounging. And she never sweats! Her face is managing those ankle weights just fine, while my face is distorted in ways I previously did not think possible. I hate her impossibly defined abs and her long-lasting make up; what brand is it? Maybe that is what’s happening! She puts that impossibly long-lasting make up on her abs! It finally all makes sense! Okay, now that I have cracked this undeniable conspiracy, I can relax. Drawn on abs it is! Non-negotiable.

I hate the exercises. I began my Chloe Ting journey with one of her weight-loss programs that included cardio and decided I probably hate cardio and will be better off with one of her strength-building programs. So I began one of said strength building programs. I decided that maybe I like cardio after all. And this has basically been the loop I’ve been stuck in for the last six months. The whole logic behind her workouts is what is popularly known as HIIT (Hate It, It’s Terrible), which is a great way get your body to beg that you never again indulge in carbohydrates in order to avoid this. But carbohydrates always win. The way HIIT works (fine, it means High Intensity Interval Training), is you die for about 40 seconds or so, take a brief ‘break’ and then die again. Those five-second breaks quickly become your best friend and if a ten-second break comes along you might even barely manage to catch your breath.

I say that I hate Chloe Ting, but I have suggested her to all my friends. And now they hate me. And so the cycle continues. I don’t know if it is the fuel of pure hate, the organisation of her workout schedules or the HIIT, but those stupid workouts are effective and keep you consistent. Oddly enough, it quickly becomes less about the weight loss, or muscle definition and becomes about that feeling of Hulk-like strength. Careful wording there; feeling of Hulk like strength. Very much nothing like actual Hulk-like strength. Maybe Hulk-like strength in comparison to previous strength. But I am still having a hard time managing the dog on walks, for example. I am sure there are other equally effective YouTube instructors that maybe rock out to Franz Ferdinand (long shot), but I am afraid to let go. I have sort of entered this co-dependent relationship with an Australian woman, and not even the fun bits. With couch popatoness always lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce and take me back to lazy heaven, Chloe Ting challenges remain a daily fight for me. A fight that I just realised I lost today because I did nothing. Darn it.