LauraMax
Cathlete
I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did........
WEEK AT THE GYM... ONE WOMAN'S STORY
If you read this without laughing out loud, there is something wrong with you. This is dedicated to everyone who ever attempted to get into a regular workout routine.
Dear Diary
For my fortieth birthday this year, my husband (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local gym for me. Although I am still in great shape since my track and field days some 25 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.
I called the gym and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Damon, 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 gym 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 Damon
waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god - with blond hair, seductive eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!! Damon gave me
a tour and showed me the machines. He took my pulse after five minutes on the treadmill and was alarmed that it was so fast, but I attribute it to standing next to him in his gym top and bulging shorts. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring. Damon 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. Damon 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. Damon'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 lying 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 ran over the gym manager in the parking lot. Damon was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. His voice is a little too perky for this 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 he put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Damon told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other #### too.
Thursday:
Damon 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. Damon took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the women's change room. He sent Cheryl to find me, then, as punishment, put me on the rowing machine - which I sank.
Friday:
I hate that bastard Damon more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, masochistic gym-jock If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it. He 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 fricken 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 the nutrition advisor. Why couldn't it have been someone big and soft, like an ice-cream salesman or a fireman?
Saturday:
Damon left a message on my answering machine in his grating, whining voice, wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing him
made me want to smash the machine with my rolling pin. 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 pap smear.
WEEK AT THE GYM... ONE WOMAN'S STORY
If you read this without laughing out loud, there is something wrong with you. This is dedicated to everyone who ever attempted to get into a regular workout routine.
Dear Diary
For my fortieth birthday this year, my husband (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local gym for me. Although I am still in great shape since my track and field days some 25 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.
I called the gym and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Damon, 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 gym 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 Damon
waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god - with blond hair, seductive eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!! Damon gave me
a tour and showed me the machines. He took my pulse after five minutes on the treadmill and was alarmed that it was so fast, but I attribute it to standing next to him in his gym top and bulging shorts. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring. Damon 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. Damon 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. Damon'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 lying 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 ran over the gym manager in the parking lot. Damon was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. His voice is a little too perky for this 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 he put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Damon told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other #### too.
Thursday:
Damon 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. Damon took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the women's change room. He sent Cheryl to find me, then, as punishment, put me on the rowing machine - which I sank.
Friday:
I hate that bastard Damon more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, masochistic gym-jock If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it. He 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 fricken 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 the nutrition advisor. Why couldn't it have been someone big and soft, like an ice-cream salesman or a fireman?
Saturday:
Damon left a message on my answering machine in his grating, whining voice, wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing him
made me want to smash the machine with my rolling pin. 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 pap smear.
