Dear Diary.

[Arwen]

Dear Diary,
For my birthday this year, my family (the dear s) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for
me.

Although I am still in great shape, 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 Brad, 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 Brad
waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god - with blond hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!! Brad gave me
a tour and showed me the machines. I enjoyed watching the skilful way in which he
conducted his aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring!

Brad 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.

Brad 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. Brad'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.

Brad 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 Brad put
me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an
activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Brad told me it would help me get in shape and
enjoy life. He said some other sh*t too.

THURSDAY:

Brad 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.

Brad took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. He sent some skinny #!%*% to find
me.

Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine -- which I sank.

FRIDAY:

I hate that Brad more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world.

Brad 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:

Brad 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 family (the little sh*t s ) 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!!!