Aerobics Instructor

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 catalog.

My daughter 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 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 skillful 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!!

TUESDAY:

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.

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.
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 stupid crap too.

THURSDAY :

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.

FRIDAY :

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?

SATURDAY :

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 watching 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 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!!!