Discussions

Dear Diary,  
 
For my birthday this year, my daughter (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me.  
 
Although I am still in great shape since being a high school cheerleader 43 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 Brad, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear.  
 
My daughter 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 6:00 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Brad waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god - with blond hair,dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!! Brad gave me a  
tour and showed me the machines. I enjoyed watching the skillful way  
in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring!  
 
Brad 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.  
 
Brad 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. Brad'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 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.  
Brad 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 Brad put me  
on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Brad told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other poop too.  
 
 
THURSDAY :  
 
Brad 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.  
 
Brad took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. He sent some skinny woman to find me. Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine - which I sank.  
 
 
FRIDAY :  
 
I hate that Brad more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic little #@*. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it.  
 
Brad 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 damn barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich. 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 :  
 
Brad 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 daughter (the little s**t) will choose a gift for me that is fun - like a root canal or a hysterectomy. I still say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have sprinkled the floor with diamonds