This is dedicated to every woman who ever attempted to get into a
regular workout routine. A must read!
Diary...
For my fiftieth 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 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, I'll call him Bruce, who identified himself as a 26-year-old
aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swimwear. 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 am. 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 aerobics 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 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 master. Why in the world 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
stuff 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 Bruce more than any human being has ever hated any other human
being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic little
cheerleader wanna-be. 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. 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 watching eleven hours
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 is fun like a root
canal or a hysterectomy.