Dear Diary
For my 40th 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 25 years ago, I decided it would be a
good idea to go ahead and give it a try.
Called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Belinda,
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
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 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 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 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 junk 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 heifer 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 was 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. (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:
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 devil)
will choose a gift for me that is fun - like a root canal or a vasectomy.
Author Unknown- and hopefully doing much better now…
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