Dear diary – For my 50th birthday this year, my husband (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local gym for me. Although I am still in great shape since playing softball in high school, I decided to go ahead and give it a try.
MONDAY – Started my day at 6am. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the gym to find Bruce waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god – with blonde hair, lovely eyes, and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!! Bruce gave me a tour and showed me the machines. He took my pulse every 5 minutes on the treadmill. He was alarmed that my pulse was so fast, but I attribute it to standing next to his rippling muscles. I enjoyed watching the skilful way in which he conducted his group exercise class after my session 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 to the door. Bruce made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air then put weights on it! My legs were a bit wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full kilometre. Bruce’s rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel great!! It’s a whole new life for me.
WEDNESDAY – The only way I could 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 have to steer or stop. I parked on top of the CEO in the gym car park. Bruce was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other gym 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 Bruce put me on the stair monster. Why the hell 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 shit too.
THURSDAY – Bruce 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. Bruce took me to work out on the dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid them 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 bastard Bruce more than any other human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, little cheerleader wanna -be bastard. If there was a part of my body that I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it. Bruce wanted me to work my triceps. I don’t have triceps! And if you don’t want dents in floor, don’t hand me the &@#$*~ barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich. The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn’t it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or choir director?
SATURDAY – Bruce left a message on my answering machine in his grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing him, made me want to smash the machine with my diary. However, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching 11 straight hours of the *$@#& Weather Channel.
SUNDAY – I’m getting the Church bus to pick me up for services today so I can go thank God that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my husband (The BASTARD) will choose a gift for me that is fun - like a root canal, a mammogram, a pelvic exam, or even a hysterectomy.
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