A WOMAN'S WEEK AT THE GYM
Dear Diary,
For my birthday this year, my husband purchased a week of personal training at the
local health club.
Although I am still in great shape since being a high school football
cheerleader 43 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and
give it a try.
I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named
Christo, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and
model for athletic clothing and swim wear.
Friends seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club
encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.
MONDAY:
Started my day at 6:00 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well
worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Christo waiting for me.
He is something of a Greek god -- with blond hair, dancing eyes, and a
dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!
Christo gave me a tour and showed me the machines. I enjoyed watching the
skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout
today. Very inspiring!
Christo was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already
aching from holding it in the whole time he was around. This is going to be
a FANTASTIC week!!
TUESDAY:
I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door.
Christo made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air then
he put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I
made the full mile. His rewarding smile
made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT! It's a whole new life for me.
WEDNESDAY:
The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the
counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a
hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer
or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot.
Christo was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other
club members. His voice is a little too perky for that early in the morning
and when he scolds, he gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying.
My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Christo put me on the stair
monster. Why the heck would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity
rendered obsolete by elevators? Christo told me it would help me get in
shape and enjoy life. He said some other crap too.
THURSDAY:
The jerk was waiting for me with his vampire-like teeth exposed as his
thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a
half an hour late -- it took me that long to tie my shoes.
He took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and
hid in the restroom. He sent some skinny girl to find me.
Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine -- which I sank.
FRIDAY:
I hate that Christo more than any human being has ever hated any
other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic,
anorexic, little aerobic instructor. If there was a part of my body I could
move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it.
Christo wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And
if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the dang barbells or
anything that weighs more than a sandwich.
The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher.
Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir
director?
SATURDAY:
Satan left a message on my answering machine in his grating, shrilly voice
wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing his voice made me want
to smash the machine with my planner; however, I lacked the strength to even
use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather
Channel.
SUNDAY:
I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and
thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my
husband will choose a gift for me that is fun -- like a root canal or a
hysterectomy. I still say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have
sprinkled the floor with diamonds!!!
For my birthday this year, my husband purchased a week of personal training at the
local health club.
Although I am still in great shape since being a high school football
cheerleader 43 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and
give it a try.
I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named
Christo, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and
model for athletic clothing and swim wear.
Friends seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club
encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.
MONDAY:
Started my day at 6:00 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well
worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Christo waiting for me.
He is something of a Greek god -- with blond hair, dancing eyes, and a
dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!
Christo gave me a tour and showed me the machines. I enjoyed watching the
skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout
today. Very inspiring!
Christo was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already
aching from holding it in the whole time he was around. This is going to be
a FANTASTIC week!!
TUESDAY:
I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door.
Christo made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air then
he put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I
made the full mile. His rewarding smile
made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT! It's a whole new life for me.
WEDNESDAY:
The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the
counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a
hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer
or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot.
Christo was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other
club members. His voice is a little too perky for that early in the morning
and when he scolds, he gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying.
My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Christo put me on the stair
monster. Why the heck would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity
rendered obsolete by elevators? Christo told me it would help me get in
shape and enjoy life. He said some other crap too.
THURSDAY:
The jerk was waiting for me with his vampire-like teeth exposed as his
thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a
half an hour late -- it took me that long to tie my shoes.
He took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and
hid in the restroom. He sent some skinny girl to find me.
Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine -- which I sank.
FRIDAY:
I hate that Christo more than any human being has ever hated any
other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic,
anorexic, little aerobic instructor. If there was a part of my body I could
move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it.
Christo wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And
if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the dang barbells or
anything that weighs more than a sandwich.
The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher.
Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir
director?
SATURDAY:
Satan left a message on my answering machine in his grating, shrilly voice
wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing his voice made me want
to smash the machine with my planner; however, I lacked the strength to even
use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather
Channel.
SUNDAY:
I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and
thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my
husband will choose a gift for me that is fun -- like a root canal or a
hysterectomy. I still say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have
sprinkled the floor with diamonds!!!
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