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Submitted by: MARCELLE  A WEEK AT THE GYM: ONE MAN'S STORY... If you read this without laughing out loud, there is
something wrong with you. This is dedicated to
everyone who ever attempted to get into a regular workout routine.
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 25yrs ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try. I called the club and made my reservation with a personal trainer named Belinda, who identified herself as a 26 yr. old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swimwear.
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 was something of a Greek goddess -- with blonde hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile.
Woo Hoo!!!!!
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 aerobics outfit. I enjoyed watching the skilful 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, and then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Belinda'srewarding 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 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 the other club members.
Her voice is a little too perky for early in the morning and when she scolds, she gets this nasally whines that is VERY annoying. My chest hurts 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 workout 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 b@#*h Belinda more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anaemic little cheerleading b@#*h. If there were a part of my body 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.
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 b@#*h), will choose a gift for me that is fun --like a root canal or a vasectomy.
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