A week at the Gym

A WEEK AT THE GYM: ONE MAN'S STORY

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 High School football team 25
yrs ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a
try.

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 swim wear. 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 6:00 am. 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!!!!!

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 aerobics
outfit. I enjoyed watching 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 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'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. Belinda was impatient
with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. Her
voice is a little too perky for 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 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 work out 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 bitch Belinda more than any human being has ever hated any
other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic
little cheerleader. If there were 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 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 bitch); will choose a gift for me that is fun -- like a root
canal or a vasectomy.