This is dedicated to everyone who ever attempted to get into a regular workout routine.


Week at the Gym: One Man's Story

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 on my college football team 25 years ago, I decided it
would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try. Called the club and made my
reservations with a personal trainer named Belinda, who
identified herself as a 26 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 Belinda waiting for me. She is
something of a Greek goddess-with blonde hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white
smile. Woooo Hooo!

Belinda gave me a tour and showed me the machines. She took my pulse after
five 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 aerobic outfit. I enjoyed
watching the skillful way in which she conducted aerobics class after my
workout today. Very inspiring. Belinda 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 the door. Belinda
made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air- then she put
weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full
mile. Belinda'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 GEO in the club parking lot. Belinda 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 Belinda put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would
anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators?
Belinda told me it would help me to get in shape and enjoy life. She said some
other shit too.

Thursday:

Belinda is 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. Belinda 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 Belinda 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 was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I
would beat her with it. Belinda 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
sandwich.(Which I am sure you learned in the sadist school you attended and
graduated magna cum laude from, Belinda!!!!) 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:

Belinda left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice,
wondering why I didn't 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.

 

HAHAHA that was good reading

 

 

I hope that doesn't happen to me 25 years from now.

 

That is too funny!!!

 

That's great

 

I have received this story many times over, only the male trainer version. I used to be a personal trainer.

Dear Diary...
For my fiftieth birthday this year, my husband (the sweet dear) purchased me a week of personal training at the local health club. Although I am still in great shape (from playing on my high school softball team), 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 Bruce, who described himself as a 26 year old aerobics instructor, and model for athletic clothing and swim wear. My husband seemed pleased with my sudden enthusiasm to get started. Well, the club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress, so here it goes:

Monday: Started my day at 6:00am. 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 blond hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. 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!

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 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. Bruce 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 Bruce put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Bruce told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other shit 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 an hour late, it took me that long to tie my shoes. Bruce took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the men's room. He sent Lars to find me, then, as punishment, put me on the rowing machine-which I sank.

Friday: I hate that bastard Bruce 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 was a part of my body I 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 sandwich. (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 him 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 husband (the BASTARD) will choose a gift for me that is fun-like a root canal or a hysterectomy!!

 

 

A slight digression, if I may? About 5 years ago I was in the gym and not looking too shabby as it goes .

So, I am standing in this gym and whenever I glance up, there's a pretty fit looking bloke that keeps on staring at me and he aint smiling ... he's looking right at me ... and bearing in mind the gym I was using was occasionally a bit rough, I decide that it's best not to stare back at him, so I look away to avoid starting him off. "It's not good to eyeball some of these guys", I thought, " keep your head down ... you'll live longer".

It took me about 5 minutes to realise that there were mirrors on the central pillars of the gym floor ... and that I was looking at my own reflection ...