50th Bday Present
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 Bruce, 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 6:00am. 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 wanna-be bastard. 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 &@#$*~ barbells or
anything that weighs more than a sandwich. (Which I am sure you
learned in the sadist school you attended and graduated magna cum
laude from, you Nazi bastard).
The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition
teacher. Why couldn't it have been
someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?
Saturday:
Bruce left a message on my answering machine in his grating, shrilly
voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing him made me
want to smash the machine with my planner. However, I lacked the
strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven
straight hours of the *$@#&
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.
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