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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.

> ----------------------------------------------------------------------
> 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-!!

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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.

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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.

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 crap too.
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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 idiot to find me.

Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine-which I sank.
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FRIDAY :

I hate that Brad more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic little punk. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it.

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?