Woman’s Workout Week If you read this without laughing out loud, there is something wrong with you. This is dedicated to every woman who ever attempted to get into a regular workout routine.

Dear Diary:

For my 40th birthday this year, my husband (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 member of the high school bowling team, I decided it would be a good idea to give it a try. I called the health club and made my reservations with a personal trainer I’ll call Bruce, who identified himself as a 26 year old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear. My husband 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 found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Bruce waiting for me.

He is something of a Greek God - with blonde hair, dancing eyes, a dazzling white smile and a deep sexy voice. Woo Hoo! Bruce gave me a tour and showed me the machines. He took my pulse after five minutes on the treadmill. He was alarmed that my pulse was so fast, but I attribute it to standing next to him in his lycra aerobic outfit. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring! Bruce 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, I am already planning to join!

Tuesday:

I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door.

Bruce 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. Bruce’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, my arms hurt to bad to do it the regular way. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving to the club 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 because I could not pull my leg up to brake. Bruce 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 me, he gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying.

My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Bruce put me on the stair monster.

Why would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators?

Bruce told me this would help me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other crap too.

Thursday:

Bruce 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 hour late, it took me that long to tie my shoes. Bruce took me to workout with the dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the women’s room. He sent Lana (the

witch) to find me, as punishment he put me on the rowing machine, which I sank.

Friday:

I hate Bruce more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of mankind! Stupid, skinny, anemic little cheerleader. If there was a part of my body that could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it. Bruce 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 twinky. (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:

Bruce 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 watching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel from the couch.

Sunday:

I’m having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week from Hell is over. I will also pray that next year my husband (the rotten dog) will choose a gift for me that is fun, like a root canal or a hysterectomy.