This morning was my first meeting with a trainer at my local gym. She turned out to be amusing, charming, and helpful. Oh, yes. She also did not listen to me when I told her that I wanted to go very slowly with this exercising business. So she is also a KILLER.
Just sit on this bike for a little bit, she said. The little bit was not little. Just lie on this mat for a few little movements, just to get you started, she said. They were not a few little anythings, and I wanted to get ended!
After crunches, squats using a Swiss ball, and lifting humongo weights--o.k. they were only three pounds, but still--she made me lie down on a slab and began a few minutes of stretching me. Now I can imagine what people in the Middle Ages felt when they were sentenced to the rack.
TRAINER: O.k. Alice. Can you feel this stretching here?
ALICE: YES!
TRAINER: Great! How about here?
ALICE: AAHHH! YES!
TRAINER: Excellent! What about this? And this? Oh, and here?
ALICE: YES, YES, YES!
When it was all over, Trainer walked me to the front door, gave me a big hug, and told me that I was to meet with her three times a week. Yeah, sure.
TRAINER: Oh, Alice?
ALICE: Hmm?
TRAINER: So, just want to let you know that today I was being real nice and going real slow because you're new at this, but from now on, it's gonna be hard work, baby! No more mercy for you!
A killer. And I get to pay her for it, too.
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