A story we might all appreciate! .....Tee hee..

Dear Diary;

For my 40th 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 my track and field days
some 25 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and
give it a try.

I called the gym and made my reservations with a personal trainer
named Damon, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics
instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear. -(YUMM)

My husband seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started!

The gym encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.


Monday;

Started my day at 6:00am. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was
well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Damon
waiting for me.

He is something of a Greek god - with blond hair , seductive eyes
and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!! Damon gave me a tour and
showed me the machines. He took my pulse after five minutes on
the treadmill and was alarmed that it was so fast, but I attribute
it to standing next to him in his gym top and bulging shorts.

I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted his
aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring. Damon 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.
Damon 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. Damon'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 lying 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 ran over the gym manager in the parking lot.
Damon was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered
other club members. His voice is a little too perky for this 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
he put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a
machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators?
Damon told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. He said
some other shit too.

Thursday:

Damon 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.
Damon took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking,
I ran and hid in the women's change room. He sent Cheryl to find me,
then, as punishment, put me on the rowing machine - which I sank.

Friday:

I hate that bastard Damon more than any human being has ever hated
any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid,
masochistic gym-jock. If there was a part of my body I could move
without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it. He 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. (Which I am sure you learned in the
sadist school you attended and graduated magna cum laude from.)The
treadmill flung me off and I landed on the nutrition advisor. Why
couldn't it have been someone big and soft, like an ice-cream salesman
or a fireman?

Saturday:

Damon left a message on my answering machine in his grating, whining
voice, wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing him made
me want to smash the machine with my rolling pin. 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 husband(the bastard) will choose a gift for me that is
fun -like a root canal or a pap smear!