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WEEK AT THE GYM: ONE MAN'S STORY

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 fortieth 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 26 yr 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 6:00am. 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 made the 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 laying 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 VW 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 hurts when I got on the treadmill, so Vanessa put me on the stair
monster.

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, 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 F*CKING 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.