Wednesday, February 17, 2010

A WOMAN'S WEEK AT THE GYM

A WOMAN'S WEEK AT THE GYM

This is dedicated to everyone who ever attempted to get
into a regular workout routine.



Dear Diary,
For my birthday this year, my Husband (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
football 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 Christo, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor
and model for athletic clothing and swim wear.

My husband 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 Christo
waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god - with blond hair, dancing
eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!

Christo 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!

Christo 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.
Christo 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. His 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.

Christo was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered
other club members. His voice is a little too perky for that 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 Christo put me on
the stair monster. Why the heck would anyone invent a machine to simulate
an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Christo told me it would help
me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other crap too.



_______________________________
THURSDAY:
Butthole 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.

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

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



_________________________________

FRIDAY:
I hate that jerk Christo more than any human being has ever hated
any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic,
anorexic little aerobic instructor. If there was a part of my body I could
move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it.

Christo 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 darn 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:
Satan left a message on my answering machine in his grating,
shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing his
voice 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 husband 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!!!

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Just a Mom...





A woman, renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk
's office, was asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation.

She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.

'What I mean is, ' explained the recorder,
'do you have a job or are you just a ...?'

'Of course I have a job,' snapped the woman.

'I'm a Mom.'

'We don't list 'Mom' as an occupation,
'housewife' covers it,'
Said the recorder emphatically.


I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself

in the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall.
The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised,
efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like,
'Official Interrogator' or 'Town Registrar.'


'What is your occupation?' she probed.

What made me say it? I do not know.
The words simply popped out.
'I'm a Research Associate in the field of
Child Development and Human Relations.'

The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and
looked up as though she had not heard right.


I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words.

Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written,
in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.


'Might I ask,' said the clerk with new interest,
'just what you do in your field?'

Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice,
I heard myself reply,

'I have a continuing program of research,
(what mother doesn't)

In the laboratory and in the field,
(normally I would have said indoors and out).

I'm working for my Masters,
(first the Lord and then the whole family)


and already have four credits
(all daughters).


Of course, the job is one of the
most demanding in the humanities,

(any mother care to disagree?)

and I often work 14 hours a day,
(24 is more like it).

But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers
and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money.'

There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.


As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career,
I was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3.

Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model,
(a 6 month old baby) in the child development program,
testing out a new vocal pattern.

I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy!

And I had gone on the official records as someone more

distinguished and indispensable to mankind than 'just another Mom.'

Motherhood!

What a glorious career!
Especially when there's a title on the door.



Does this make
grandmothers
'Senior Research associates in the field of Child Development and Human Relations'
And
great grandmothers
'Executive Senior Research Associates?'
I think so!!!

I also think it makes
Aunts '
Associate Research Assistants.'



Wednesday, February 3, 2010

on marriage

'Will you, um, marry me?' I haven't seen you in weeks! You don't look happy or excited about the prospect of our marriage! You're asking me to give up my - my freedom, my joie de vivre for an institution that fails as often as it succeeds? And why should I marry you anyway? I mean, why do you wanna marry me? Besides some bourgeois desire to fulfill an ideal that society embeds in us from an early age to promote a consumer capitalist agenda?