Diary 2

For my fiftieth birthday this year, my husband (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 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 whom I’ll call Bruce. He identified himself as a 26 year old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear. My husband seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started and 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 found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Bruce waiting for me. He is something of a Greek 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 and was alarmed that it was so fast, but I attribute it to standing next to him in his Lycra aerobic outfit. I enjoyed watching the way he taught 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 edge of the sink 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 slow moving pedestrian in the club parking lot. Bruce was impatient with me today, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. I’ve noticed that 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 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 stuff too.

Thursday

Bruce was a jerk this morning. 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 creep Bruce more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. There is no part of my body I can move without unbearable pain; if there were, I would beat him with it. Today he wanted me to work on my triceps. I don’t have any triceps! Oh, and if you don’t want dents in the floor, don’t hand me &@#$*~ barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich. The treadmill flung me off and I landed on the in-house nutritionist. Why couldn’t it have been someone softer, like a receptionist or cleaner?

Saturday

Bruce left a message on my answering machine in his grating, shrilly voice asking why I didn't show up today. Just hearing him made me want to smash the machine. However, as I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote, I ended up watching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel instead.

Sunday

I’m having the church van pick me up for Sunday services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my husband will choose a gift for me that is more fun – like a root canal surgery or a pelvic exam.