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>Dear Diary...For my 50TH 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 softball team, 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 I'll call Cindy, who
identified herself
>as a 26-year-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 6:00AM. Tough to get out of bed, but
found it was
>well
>worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Cindy waiting
for me. She
>is something of a Greek goddess -- with blond hair, dancing eyes
and a
>dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!! Cindy 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 attribute it to standing next to her in her Lycra
aerobic outfit.
>I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which she conducted her
aerobics class
>after my workout today. Very inspiring. Cindy 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.
>Cindy made
>me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air-then she
put weights
>on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made
the full
>mile. Cindy'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. Cindy 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 Cindy put me on the stair
monster. Why
>the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity
rendered
>obsolete by elevators? Cindy told me it would help me get in
shape and enjoy
>life. She said some other rubbish too.
>
>Thursday: Cindy 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. Cindy 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. As punishment, she put me on the rowing
machine --
>which I sank.
>
>Friday: I hate that bitch Cindy 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 was a part of my body could move without
unbearable
>pain, I would beat her with it. Cindy 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 a health and
nutrition
>teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama
coach or
>the choir director?
>
>Saturday: Cindy 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
>vasectomy.
>
>Bill Holbrook
>
>
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