But the one you really want to see is owner Jackie Warner, an entrepreneurial drill sergeant in spandex, who has fashion sense, a husky voice, and a penchant for saying things like ``My place, my rules." She has the presence to put the smarmiest jock in his place; you don't need testosterone when you've got her abs. And you don't need to mince words when you're leaning over a client, manipulating his legs into uncomfortable positions.
When one soap opera actor starts flirting in mid-workout, Jackie quickly tells him that she's gay. He tells her people change.
``Well, I don't know if they change their minds, but they just have, you know --" he says.
``Doubts?" she says.
``Not doubts, but -- interests in many things," he says. ``That's true," she says, pausing. ``I'm not one of those people."
If the trick of a docu-reality show is finding a good character, Jackie's a gold mine; she's attractive in a curious, non-Barbie way and even her platitudes come across as biker-zen deep. Her supporting cast isn't quite as distinctive. The show purports to show the inner workings of a gym, but it feels more like a return to ninth grade; these trainers are no less cliquey than your basic high school types and spend no less time talking about sex.
Rebecca -- who did a turn on ``Amazing Race 6" -- is a pathological flirt who keeps touching her clients in inappropriate places. Brian (nickname: Peeler) is a would-be ladies' man who's jealous of Jesse, the slightly smarmy teacher's pet. The plot points follow unimaginatively: Jesse calls Rebecca a slut. Brian gives Jesse a lecture. Erika sees Rebecca showing dirty pictures to Watley and tells Jackie. Rebecca apologizes and then skips off to show Doug her bikini.
Things get interesting when they return to Jackie: We get to revel in her vaguely Machiavellian style of management and gawk at her fights with girl-friend Mimi, a stormy and jealous Brazilian who, because of some quirk of underexplored psychology, likes to bite. There's something charming about the perfunctory way the show deals with a lesbian relationship; Bravo knows its audience well. Jackie's conservative mother will show up in future episodes, and the themes to be plumbed could be rich.
Still, with all of these so-called reality shows -- and there are more each TV season -- it's hard not to watch at least one degree removed, trying to figure out what's genuine and what's for the cameras' benefit. With a show like ``Project Runway" or Bravo's upcoming ``Tabloid Wars," you can believe the subjects have let down their guards. ``Work Out" is set in a world where image is everything; these trainers have a lot of time to think about how they look, and act accordingly.
Even that's real, in a sense; we're probably getting a fair picture of LA, in all of its superficiality. In a world of perfect thighs and small yippy dogs, the line between fact and fiction has got to be ligament-thin.
Joanna Weiss can be reached at weiss@globe.com
