I read this on another forum and thought it was brilliant.
Dear Diary,
For my fiftieth birthday this year, my daughter Rachel (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 high school 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 Carlo, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear. My daughter 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 found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Carlo waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god - with curly hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!! Carlo 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! Carlo 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. Carlo 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. Carlo'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. 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. Carlo 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 Carlo put me on the stair 'monster'. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Carlo told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other rubbish too.
THURSDAY: Carlo was waiting for me with his vampire-like teeth exposed as his thin, cruel lips were back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late, it took me that long to tie my shoes. Carlo took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. He sent another skinny woman to find me. Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine -- which I sank.
FRIDAY: I hate that Carlo more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic little man. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it. Carlo 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?
SATURDAY: Carlo 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 daughter Rachel (the little horror) 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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