This is dedicated to everyone who ever attempted to get into
a regular work-out routine.
Dear Diary...
For my fortieth birthday this year, my wife (the dear) purchased a
week of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am
still in great shape since playing football 25 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 Belinda, who
identified herself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for
athletic clothing and swim wear. My wife 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 Belinda waiting
for
me. She is something of a Greek goddess - with blond hair, dancing
eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!! Belinda gave me a tour and
showed me the machines. She took my pulse after five minutes on the
treadmill.
She was alarmed that my pulse was so fast, but I attribute it to
standing next to her in her Lycra aerobic outfit. I enjoyed watching
the skilful way in which she conducted her aerobics class after my workout
today. Very inspiring. Belinda was encouraging as I did my sit-ups,
although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time
she was around. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!
Tuesday:
I drank five cups of coffee, but I finally made it out the door.
Belinda made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air -
then
she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but
I made the full kilometre.
Belinda'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
hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to
steer or stop. I parked in an Invalid Parking zone in the club parking
lot.
Belinda was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered
other club members. Her voice is a little too perky for early in the
morning
and when she scolds, she gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying.
My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Belinda put me on the
stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate
an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Belinda told me it would help
me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other shit too.
Thursday:
Belinda was waiting for me with her vampire-like teeth exposed as her
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. Belinda
took
me to work out with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I ran and hid
in the men's room. She sent Lars to find me, then, as punishment, put
me on the rowing machine - which I sank.
Friday:
I hate that bitch Belinda more than any human being has ever hated any
other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anaemic
little cheerleader. If there was a part of my body I could move
without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it. Belinda wanted me to
work
on my triceps. I don't have 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 with honours.) 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:
Belinda left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly
voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing her 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 wife (the bitch) will choose a gift
for me that is fun - like a root canal or a vasectomy.