If you read this without laughing out loud, there is something wrong
with you. It is dedicated to everyone who ever attempted to get into a
regular workout routine and it’s hilarious.
Dear Diary,
For my fiftieth 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 football 20 yrs ago, I decided it
would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try. Called the club and
made my reservation with a personal trainer named Vanessa, who
identified herself as a 24 year old aerobics instructor and model for
athletic clothing and swimwear. 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 6:00 am. Tough to get out of bed , but it was
well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Vanessa waiting
for me. She was something of a Greek goddess with blonde hair, dancing
eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!!!! Vanessa 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 attributed
it to standing next to her in her Lycra aerobics outfit. I enjoyed
watching the skillful way in which she conducted her aerobics class
after my workout today. Very inspiring, Vanessa 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 of the
door. Vanessa made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the
air, and then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the
treadmill, but I ma de t he full mile. Vanessa'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 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.
Vanessa 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 Vanessa put me on the StairMonster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to
simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators?
Vanessa told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other shit too.
THURSDAY: Vanessa 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.
Vanessa 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, and then, as
punishment, put me on the rowing machine - which I sank.
FRIDAY: I hate that bitch Vanessa 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 were a part of my body I could move
without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it. Vanessa 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: Vanessa 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 a vasectomy.