If you read this without laughing out loud, there is something wrong
with you. This is dedicated to everyone whoever attempted to get into a
regular workout routine.

Dear Diary:
For my 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.

I called the club and made my reservation 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 a.m.
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 was something of a
Greek goddess with blonde hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile.
Woo Hoo!!!!! 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, 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,
and 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 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 okay 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 the 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 Belinda put me on the stair monster.

Why the fuck would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity
rendered obsolete by elevators? Belinda told me it would help me get in shape
and enjoy life. She said some other shit too.

THURSDAY:
Belinda 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! Belinda took me to
workout 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 Belinda more than any human being has ever hated any
other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic little
cheerleading bitch. If there were a part of my body that 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 fucking dumbbells 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:
Belinda 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!