I’m going to tell you about yesterday, and I’m going to tell you about the worst trainer in America.
I am also going to be a little less sugar, a little more spice today (disclaimer 😉 ).
As I told you in yesterday’s post, my trainer was sick. So, for the first time by myself, I weight-trained. It was “legs” day, which thankfully involves a lot of machines. The machines are daunting, but I feel I can at least “figure them out.”
Last night at a dinner with my husband, his co-worker and his boss, the conversation turned to a discussion about wives. As the only female at the table it was, to say the least, awkward. But readers, you know my personality. I gave courtesy laughs, waiting for an opportunity to change the subject, or to gain some insight into that alien mind: the male.
My new trainer sucks. Okay, maybe not completely, or not much, or at all, really. But it feels good to say it, like somehow I’m getting to take back a little dignity after my clumsy attempts at weight training at my new gym here in Coshocton.
I had already prepared him that I would be blogging about my work-outs from time to time and that includes photos and a myriad of random, often strange thoughts. I figured he would give them a once-over and see that I wasn’t showing my trainer in a bad light, and understand that the only person I really take to task in my blogs is me.
I didn’t think he would read them, I mean actually read them. (I mean, c’mon, he’s a trainer, right? Isn’t he supposed to be an illiterate muscle-head?) Continue reading Is Marla Sasquatch?