Week at the Gym; One Man's Story...
 

Dear Diary...

For my fortieth birthday this year, my wife (the dear) 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 years ago, I
decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.

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 wife 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 6:00am. 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
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. She took my pulse
after five minutes on the treadmill. She was alarmed that my pulse was
so fast, but I attributed it to standing next to her in her Lycra
aerobic outfit. 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 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.

Belinda was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other
club members. Her voice is a little too perky for 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 men's room. She sent Lars to find me, then, as punishment, put me
on the rowing machine
- which I sank.

Friday:

I hate that bitch Belinda more that 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 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 &%#(#&**!!@*@
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:

Belinda left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly
voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing her 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
wife (the bitch) will choose a gift for me that is fun - like a root
canal or a vasectomy.

haha long but worth it pretty funny

funny...but

he's forty and

this would make him 15, playin on a college football team. wouldn't he have been crushed?

good point

Re: Week at the Gym; One Man's Story...
 

Heheh that is so true! I remember when I first started working out, the next day I hopped in the car and thought the power steering pump died because it was such a nightmare to steer. Buckling my seatbelt and even shifting gears made my chest hurt like hell. Good times. :)

oh you gotta love being sore I've laid in bed for a day listening to my damn alarm going off because I was too hurt to move

good stuff