A WEEK AT THE GYM
This is dedicated to every woman who ever attempted to get into a regular workout routine.
Dear Diary...For my fiftieth birthday this year, my husband (the sweet dear)
purchased me a week of personal training at the local health club.
Although I am still in great shape (from playing on my high school
softball team), 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 Bruce, who described himself as a 26
year old aerobics instructor, and model for athletic clothing and
swim wear. My husband seemed pleased with my sudden
enthusiasm to get started. Well, the club encouraged me to keep
a diary to chart my progress, so here it goes:
Monday: Started my day at 6:00am. Tough to get out of bed, but
found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Bruce
waiting for me. He is something of a Greek God - with blond hair,
dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!! Bruce gave me
a tour and showed me the machines.He took my pulse after five
minutes on the treadmill. He was alarmed that my pulse was so fast,
but I attribute it to standing next to him in his Lycra aerobic outfit.
I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted his
aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring. Bruce 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. Bruce 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. Bruce's 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 on 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.
Bruce was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other
club members. His voice is a little too perky for 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 Bruce put me on the stair
monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an
activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Bruce told me it would help
me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other shit too.
Thursday: Bruce 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. Bruce took me
to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the
men's room. He sent Lars to find me, then, as punishment, put me on the
rowing machine-which I sank.
Friday: I hate that bastard Bruce more than any human being has ever
hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny,
anemic little cheerleader. If there was a part of my body I could move
without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it. Bruce 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 : < &*@*#$> &*@*#$ barbells or
anything that weighs more than a sandwich. (Which I am sure you
learned in the sadist school you attended and graduated magna cum
laude from.) 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: Bruce left a message on my answering machine in his
grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just
hearing him 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 (the BASTARD) will choose a gift for me that
is fun-like a root canal or a hysterectomy.