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 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.



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 skilful 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-!!



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.



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.

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 shit too.



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 bitch to find me.

Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine — which I sank.



I hate that Brad more than any human being has ever hated any other
human being in the history of the world.

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?



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.


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 shit) 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!!!