My Trainer

Okay - I know there's a recession and it's completely extravagant...but I totally go to a trainer. Every week. Once. When I'm home. (Okay - maybe it's not as extravagant as I thought).

And this trainer is a freakin' drill sergeant. Obviously, if you have to pay someone to make you workout, you kind of need tough - and she is tough. I had one session where I tried to fool the scales on my monthly weigh-in by not eating breakfast or lunch beforehand....passed out. The next workout was interrupted by my vomiting the turkey sandwich I ate a little too close to the workout's start. Notice I said interrupted and not canceled - I told you...she's tough. I have been known to shout "NO MEANS NO" in the middle of a [girls's] push-up, but there's never a reprieve with Louis Gossett Jr.

Each workout starts with our own unique ritual - she asks me how I did on food this week...I lie...she makes me do squats til I cry. I asked her what I could do about being a little "broad in the beam" [as my mother so affectionately (?) put it]. Her answer: "Eat less." Thank yoooooouuuu. But then she & I probably have different expectations. I am happy with merely changing the trajectory of my weight gain while she probably expects people to actually lose weight.

I didn't bother telling her about the whoppers and cheeto's episode.