(Adapted from a "Woman's Week at the Gym" from my well-meaning sister, once more.)
My husband purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me for my 43rd birthday. I called the club and made reservations with the trainer. His name is Charlie and he is a 26 year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear.
The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.
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Monday:
Started the day at 6:00 A.M. Difficult to get out of bed, but found it was worth it when I got to the club and Charlie was waiting for me. He gave me a tour and showed me the machines. He resembles a Greek god--blond hair, dancing eyes, and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo! He encouraged me as I did my sit-ups although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time he was around. Am expecting a fantastic week!
Tuesday:
Drank a pot of coffee, and finally made it out the door. Charlie made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air. Then he put the weights on. My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made it one full mile. His rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. 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 okay as long as I
didn't try to steer or stop. Charlie was impatient with me and his voice was a little too perky for that early in the morning and when he scolds, he gets a nasty whine that is VERY annoying.
Thursday:
Jack@$# was waiting for me with his vampire-like teeth exposed as his thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being an hour late; it took me that long to get my shoes tied. He took me to work out with dumbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. He sent some skinny witch to find me.
Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine--which I sank.
Friday:
I hate that Jack@#$ Charlie more than any human being has ever hated another human being... stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic, little aerobic instructor. If there was part of my body that I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it. He wanted me to work on my tricepts. I don't have any triceps! And if you don't want dents on the floor, don't hand me the darn barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich. The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher.
Saturday:
Satan left a message on my answering machine in his grating, shrilly voice wondering why I didn't show up today. Just hearing his voice made me want to smash the machine.
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 on my next birthday my husband will choose a gift for me that is fun--like a root canal or a hysterectomy. I say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have sprinkled the floor with diamonds!
Happy exercising, all.
It's Genetic
Post Edited (It's Genetic) : 3/8/2012 7:44:24 PM (GMT-7)