Woman's Week at the Gym
Dear Diary,
For my birthday this year, my husband (the dear) purchased
a week of personal training at the local health club for me.
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.
My husband 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 somewhat of a Greek
god - with blonde hair, dancing eyes, and a dazzling, white
smile. Woo Hoo!!
Christo game me a tour and shoed me the machines. I
enjoyed watching the skillful he conducted his aerobics
class after my workout today. Very inspiring!
Christo encouraged me 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. GREAT! It's a whole,
new life for me.
Wednesday
The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the tooth-
brush 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 early morning. When he scolds me, 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 to get in shape
and enjoy life. He said some other crap, too.
Thursday
Meanie 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 his 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 jerk Christo more than any human has ever hated
any other human in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny,
anemic, anorexic, little aerobics 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 any dents in the floor, don't
hand me the darn barbells or anything that weighs more than
a sandwich.
Saturday
The evil one 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 use the TV
remote and caught eleven straight hours of the Weather
Channel.
Sunday
I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I
can thank God that this week is over. I will also pray 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!!