Gym? No thank you

Although I have taken to walking nowadays, as opposed to being a high school  basketball state rep 40 something years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give the gym a try.Others do it and talk of how good it makes them feel.

I called the gym and made my reservations with a personal  trainer named Brad , who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear.

Well, I am a butt person and this increased my  enthusiasm to get started! They encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress. Seems reasonable, besides it also means a new pair of shoes!

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 gym to find Brad waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god - with blond hair, dancing  eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!
Brad gave me a tour and showed me the machines.. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring from behind!

Brad 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.

Brad 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. Brad '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, turn  or think.

Brad was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other gym 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 Brad put me on the  stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? HE told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other garbage too, all lies.

THURSDAY :

Brad 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.

He took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. He sent some skinny thing in  to find me.

Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine -- which I sank.

FRIDAY :

I hate that Brad more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic little #@*. 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 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 :

Brad 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 I will choose an activity for me that is fun -- like a root canal or another hysterectomy. I still say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have sprinkled the floor with diamonds or chocolate or shoe vouchers! I will be demanding some answers!
  


 




 Of course this is purely fictional as I know better than to inflict pain on my body that is either not necessary, involves a dentist chair or was designed by a masochistic male with an unnatural idea of perfection.


So I remain mwah, fit enough to get out of bed but not so trim and taut as to raise peoples expectations of neither themselves or me.