No Pain, No Gain

     Newsflash: I am NOT a huge fan of forwarded emails.  In fact, I pretty much hate them, especially the ones that tell you that you’re going to burn in hell if you don’t IMMEDIATELY send them to ten of your friends right this very second.  I mean, good Lord, I have enough things hanging over my head without having to add the prospect of meeting Lucipher for dinner.  Therefore, I typically end up deleting them right away without ever even reading them.  However, I received one from a friend the other day that actually made me want to read it.  I figured it had to be good cause this particular friend also despises forwarded emails, yet took the time to send me this one.  Anyway, I thought it was absolutely hilarious and wanted to share it with you all as you will see below. And for the record, I promise that you will NOT be struck by lightning if you choose not to pass it along to someone else.  😉 

A WOMAN’S WEEK AT THE GYM

Dear Diary,

For my birthday this year, my husband purchased a week of personal training for me at the local health club.  Although I am still in great shape since being a high school football 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 Christo, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swimwear.  Friends seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started!  The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.

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MONDAY:
Started my day at 6:00 am.  Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Christo waiting for me.  He is something of a Greek god– with blond hair, dancing eyes, and a dazzling white smile.  Woo Hoo!!

Christo 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!

Christo 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.  

Christo made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air, and then he put weights on it!  My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile.  His 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.

Christo was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members.  His voice is a little too perky for that 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 Christo put me on the stair monster.  Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators?  Christo told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life.  He said some other shit too.
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THURSDAY:
Asshole 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.

He took me to work out with dumbbells. When he wasn’t 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.
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FRIDAY:
I hate that bastard Christo more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic, little aerobic instructor.  If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it.

Christo 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?
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SATURDAY:
Satan left a message on my answering machine in his grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today.  Just hearing his voice 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.
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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 husband 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!!!

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Gym Freaks

gym     

     When I go to the gym, I am there for one reason and one reason only — to work out.  I’m not there to socialize or pick up dudes or strut my stuff. My mind is generally pretty focused on the task at hand (especially since I’m always on a tight schedule), but there are times when I can’t help but do a double take at some of the sights I see there.  Good Lord, some of the characters that parade through that place are truly in a class all their own.

     First, there’s a woman that I refer to as “Bacon Lady.”  This woman must spend hours upon hours roasting herself in a tanning bed, because her skin is so leathery and brown that she should be sitting next to a big plate of scrambled eggs.  And it’s hard to tell how old she might be because all those UV rays have made her look like she’s a hundred.  For the life of me, I can’t understand how she could possibly think that looks good.  All it does is make me have a sudden craving for breakfast food.

     Then, there’s the man I refer to as “Circus Dude.”  This guy has created the most insane-looking workout, where he combines acrobatic moves with synchronized dancing and yoga poses.  Talk about bizarre.  He’s jumping, he’s leaping, he’s spinning, he’s making a complete ass out of himself. When he’s in the middle of his performance, every head turns in his direction to try and figure out just what in the hell he’s doing.  I keep waiting for the ringmaster to come out and turn our attention to the center ring.

     Then, there’s the ultimate cheeseball guy who I refer to simply as “Meathead.” This dude is constantly checking himself out in the mirror in between weight sets. He slicks his hair back and arranges his eyebrows, and I often see him doing boxing jabs so he can check out his biceps in the glass.  And he’s not at all nonchalant about it either.  He actually looks around to make sure that someone’s watching the “gun show.”  Hate to break it to ya, Meathead, but you should really think about giving people their money back cause the “show” is not at all impressive. 

     Then, there’s “The Flirt” who tries WAY too hard to be funny and to impress all the ladies.  This guy will literally jump on a machine next to you to try to carry on a conversation.  He pays no attention whatsoever to the fact that your Ipod is blaring, and you can’t hear a single word he says.  He continues to crack his stupid jokes and tell his stupid stories, all while you’re slaving away on the elliptical, trying to get your sweat on.  Perhaps his name should be changed to “Clueless.”  

     And finally, there’s “The Package,” the guy who wears ridiculously tight leggings that advertise that he has a ridiculously large package.  And he’s not just walking around in the gym in this get-up either.  Oh no, no, he’s jogging on a freaking treadmill, while things are wiggling and jiggling and flipping and flopping all over the damn place. And trust me, it is not a pretty sight to see, and as much as you want to look away, you just can’t. It’s kind of like a train wreck.  You just can’t help but stop and stare.  Somebody needs to get that boy a jock strap STAT!

     I never know which one of these odd balls I’m gonna run into on any given day at the gym, but I always come face to face with at least one of them.  I guess it does make for interesting scenery, since the gym can be pretty dull during the winter months.  Wow, can you imagine if they all showed up on the same day?  Bacon Lady, Circus Dude, Meathead, The Flirt, and The Package — now that’s one hell of a freak show!