I Can't Get the Soap Out of My Hair

Today, I did a very dumb thing. Sure, for some people, it might be a step in the right direction, but for me, it was dumb. Very dumb.

This morning, I rolled out of bed, put on my shoes, headed to the gym, and--here it is, the dumb, dumb, dumb thing I did--hired my fat butt a personal trainer. She was small (go figure), cheerful for the 5 am shift (go figure), and she seemed relatively nice.

Looks can be deceiving. She was mean. Really mean. I thought we might tour the gym, drink coffee (really needed) and talk about my goals; I thought we might even lift a few weights, if we had time.

No such luck.

She's a tricky one... that little sprite of a personal trainer. I would think we were done, and then I'd hear dreaded phrases like this: "Hold it, for just ten seconds," "Now, let's do pulses of that," and my least favorite: "Now, let's turn that stretch into something else."

I don't want to turn that stretch into something else. The only athletic ability I have is flexibility, so I want to sit my tired rear down on the mat and touch my toes. It makes me feel good about myself. I don't want to stretch AND do a squat or a crunch at the same time. And, if I hear one more word about my "core," I'm going to go after that little-fleece-and-athletic-pant-wearing-wonder. I don't have a core, and if I do, it's buried. Really buried. So, let's just leave it alone for a bit, okay?

Needless to say, I made it home this morning, and somehow, I had enough energy left to turn the knob to the shower. Unfortunately, I realized as I tried to lift my arms to both put in and rinse out the shampoo, I was already sore.

I'm going to see this Melissa, as she calls herself, on Monday and Friday mornings. Nothing says fun like "I don't think there's enough weight on that one" or "don't forget to breathe" or "tighten up that core."