A WOMAN'S WEEK AT THE GYM
Dear Diary,
For my birthday this year, my daughter (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 many 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 daughter 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 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. I enjoyed watching
the skillful 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 a whole pot 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 mile. 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 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.
Belinda was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other
club members. Her voice is a little too perky for that 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 restroom. She sent
another skinny bitch to find me.
Then, as punishment, she 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, anemic,
anorexic 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 any triceps! And
if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the damn 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:
Belinda left a message on my answering machine in her grating,
shrilly
voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing her voice
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
daughter
(the little shit) will choose a gift for me that is fun --
like a root canal or a hysterectomy.
