No, this isn’t an entry about genital itch or burning sensations when you pee! It’s about the gym and those evil bastard people better known as Personal Trainers.
It’s no secret (although, I don’t know whether I’ve mentioned it here?) that I have been seeing a personal trainer (PT) for a few weeks, as part of my “Let’s stop being a big fat slob and develop some muscles in my body” goal. So far, it has been fine and the guy I see is quite friendly and supportive. I don’t feel like a big slob in front of him and even when I push out two sit ups before screaming in agony about the pain, he’s still encouraging me.
I go during the day at work, once a week. When I planned this with him, I analysed the times of the day and week when I would be less likely to pike out on him, resulting in me feeling guilty to the point where I ignored his phone calls in the end and never saw him again!
It worked out that Thursday mornings at 11am suited best. This decision was not made lightly and was determined for the following reasons:
- I was less likely to develop my afternoon headache/migraine if I went in the morning.
- Thursdays were a good way to push myself into the weekend after starting slow on Monday.
- It got me out of that “oh-so important sales meeting”, and
- Because my first session with him was a Tuesday and meant that I could stretch the time before seeing him for the second session which followed the Thursday after!
Today’s session started badly. In fact, it started long before I got to the gym. It’s beginning to get stinking hot here, where the nights don’t bring much relief and the days you are sweating in your clothes before you even get to work. I love that sweaty bum thing you get on the scooter. It’s very lady-like and sometimes I feel like people are staring at my “just peed my pants” look after I get off the bike seat! Nonetheless, it happens to us all!
Upon discarding the just peed my pants bike gear, I got to work and received a charming email from one of our specialist people, admonishing me for not painting his profession in the best light possible. So, felt it necessary to send me an email, thereby painting a picture of him less than flattering and probably more damaging than anything I could do to him! Having said that, he Cced my manager, perhaps thinking that my boss might yell at me? He doesn’t know my boss.
I left work, headed for the gym in a very bad mood and took one look at my PT and said, “This IS NOT a GOOD DAY!” His response? “It’s about to get better then!” As if!
I was subjected to crunches, pull ups, push ups, steps and whatnot, all of which portrayed me in the most unflattering poses. Thank god I don’t need to be multitasking at the gym and keeping an eye out for a suitable suitor because it just wouldn’t work! Who wants to flirt with a sweaty mammoth who’s face is redder than a tomato? Alrighty then!
I think I told my PT that I hated him about 31 times, cursed him another 49 times and gave up another 123 times, only to endure another set of whatever he was killing me with, as punishment!
Here’s a word to the wise – don’t abuse your PT – they get a huge kick out of making you do another set. I think it’s because it shuts you up because you are so out of breath that you can’t blurt out those expletives! Let’s face it, they don’t get paid that much, and they do their job for love of it and because they are sadistic!
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