Wednesday, July 22, 2015

First crazy-funny paper I found in my mother's junk room

I do not take credit for writing this - only typing it out.


Dear Diary,
For my birthday this year, I 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 for my personal trainer named Luke, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swimwear.

Friends seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.

Started my day at 6 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Luke waiting for me. He is something of a Greek God with blond hair, dancing eyes, and a dazzling white smile. Woo-hoo!

Luke gave me a tour and showed me the machines.

I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted my workout today. Very inspiring!

Luke 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!

I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Luke 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.

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. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot.

Luke was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. His voice was 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 Luke put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Luke told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other shit too.

Asshole was waiting for me with his vampire-teeth exposed as his thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being in a half an hour late -  it took me that long to tie my shoes.

He took me to workout with dumb-bells. When he wasn't looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. He sent some skinny bitch to find me. Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine - which I sank.

I hate the bastard Luke more than any human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic, little aerobic instructor. If there is a part of  my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it. Luke wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And if you don't want any dents in the floor, don't hand me the damn 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?

Satan left me a voicemail in his grating shrilly voice wondering why I didn't show up today. Just hearing his voice made me want to smash my phone; however, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up watching 11 straight hours of The Weather Channel.

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's 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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