Tweet
A day at the Gym (long, but funny)
Dear Diary...
>
> For my fiftieth birthday this year, my husband (the sweet dear) purchased
me
> a week of personal training at the local health
> club. Although I am still in great shape (from 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 named Bruce, who described himself as a 26
> year old aerobics instructor, and
> model for athletic clothing and swim wear. My husband seemed
> pleased with my sudden enthusiasm to get started. Well, the club
> encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress, so here it
> goes:
>
> 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 Bruce waiting for me. He is
> something of a Geek 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 or stop. 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 the hell 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 shit 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 bastard 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 BASTARD) will choose a gift for me that
> is fun -- like a root canal or a hysterectomy.
>
> For my fiftieth birthday this year, my husband (the sweet dear) purchased
me
> a week of personal training at the local health
> club. Although I am still in great shape (from 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 named Bruce, who described himself as a 26
> year old aerobics instructor, and
> model for athletic clothing and swim wear. My husband seemed
> pleased with my sudden enthusiasm to get started. Well, the club
> encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress, so here it
> goes:
>
> 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 Bruce waiting for me. He is
> something of a Geek 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 or stop. 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 the hell 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 shit 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 bastard 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 BASTARD) will choose a gift for me that
> is fun -- like a root canal or a hysterectomy.
Comment