I do not take credit for writing this - only typing it out.
RANDOM WOMAN'S WEEK AT THE GYM
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.
Monday:
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!
Tuesday:
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.
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. 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.
Thursday:
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.
Friday:
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?
Saturday:
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.
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'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!
No comments:
Post a Comment