The Diary

This is dedicated to every woman (or man) who ever attempted to get
into a regular workout routine. A must read!

Dear 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 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 6:00 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 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. 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 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 that JERK Bruce more than any human being has ever hated any
other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic
little cheerleader. 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.) 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 MORON) will choose a gift for me that is fun - like a root
canal or a hysterectomy.