A Week at the Gym
Dear Diary,
For my 40th birthday, my dear wife purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am still in great shape since playing on my college football team 25 yrs ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try. Called the club and made my reservation with a personal trainer named Belinda, who identified herself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swimwear. She encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.
MONDAY: Started my day at 6am. Tough to get out of bed, but it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Belinda waiting for me. She was something of a Greek goddess with blonde hair, a dazzling white smile and dancing eyes. I was 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 pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Belinda made me lie on my back and push a heavy barbell around. Belinda’s rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT! It’s a 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 this early and when she scolds, she gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying. My chest hurts when I get on the treadmill, so she put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? She told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other crap, 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. If I was without unbearable pain, I would beat her with them. She 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 damned barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich. She ordered me back on the treadmill. It flung me off and I landed on a gym teacher. Why couldn’t it have been someone softer, like a drama coach or choir director?
SATURDAY: Belinda left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I didn’t show up today. Just hearing her made me want to smash the machine. 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 wife (the butcher), will choose a gift for me that is fun–like a root canal or a vasectomy. I’ve officially been inducted into the Hall of Pain!
