A Week at the Gym

Because I needed a laugh, and sure thing, this does it for me every time. Keep your lameness comments to yourself. Anyways, enjoy . . .

Dear Diary,

For my 40th 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.

I 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 swimwear. My wife seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started!

The club has encouraged me to a keep a diary of my progress . . .

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 health club to find Belinda waiting for me.

She is something of a Greek goddess with blonde hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woohoo!

Belinda gave me a tour and showed me the machines. She took my pulse after 5 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 wathching 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 alredy 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 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 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 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 puts me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to stimulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators?

Belinda told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy. She said some other shit too.

Thursday:
Belinda was waiting for me with vampire-like teeth exposed, as her thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help but being an half and hour late; it took me that long to tie my shoes.

Belina took me to work out with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I ran an dhid in the men's room. She sent Larts to find me, and as punishment, put me on the rowing maching, which I sank.

Friday:
I hate that bitch Belinda more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anorexic 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 on the floor, don't hand me the F*cking barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich.

Saturday:
Belinda left me a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I didn't show up today. Just hearing her voice made me want to smash the maching with my planner. However, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remoted and ended up watching 11 straight hours of the Weather Channel.

Sunday:
I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today, so I can thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my wife, the bitch, gets me a gift that is more fun, like a root canal or a vasectomy.