Dear Personal Trainer Guy (who is not on my payroll),
Thank you for pointing out to me…and your client…and everyone else standing around that my brand new, favorite exercise that I do at least twice a week is called the “fat man’s pull-up”…nice. A little side note here, I didn’t ask you what it was called. You came up and asked if you and your client could work in with me while I was doing the FMPU. Your client got a kick out of it, grrrr, you almost got a kick out of it, right in the seat of your high tech, water wicking sweat pants.
Now I am perrynoid. What else am I doing? My workouts are pretty much a morphed version of some kind of exercise that are a cross between what I CAN do and what I am WILLING to do. My fear is that there are names for my other marxercises. Am I doing the “lazy leg press”, “chubby chest press”, “girlie glutes”, “crack head crunches” , “the pansy pushup”…the list goes on and on in my head. I may just have to make up my own names and announce them while I am doing them. I can hear me know, “Wow, this Def Con Dip I am doing it going to hurt tomorrow, especially after that set of Power Ranger Pull-ups.” Wait a minute…I think Power Ranger Pull-ups are a brand of training diapers for little boys….never mind…that’s not so impressive. Hmmm, I may end up doing more harm than good. Maybe I might just recommend to “said trainer” that such negative names for exercises are not the best choice for him to use in his chosen profession, especially since he works with a lot of overweight people. I also need to start stretching so that I can get my foot up higher just in case I might need to kick “said trainer” in the seat of his high tech pants.
Dear Yaz Telemarketer,
No, I have not been using Yaz, the female birth control pill. Thanks for calling me for the second time and letting me know about the harmful side effects of this pill designed for young girls 14 and up ( but not recommended for anyone over the age of 35), that treats acne and also allows them to sleep around responsibly. But no, I have different plumbing and have no use for this product and do not need to be part of the pending class action lawsuit. On the other hand, if I do start to notice headaches, swelling, dizziness, blood clots, chest pain or if I have a heart attack or a stroke, I will keep your number and have someone call for me. I could have been drugged and not known it; you never know. Is that how you got my name and cell phone number? Really…how did you get my name and number? Did someone turn me in? Has someone Yaz-roofied me and then confessed? Should I be perrynoid? I’ll bet it was someone at the gym. Somebody saw me doing my 10lb dumb bell curls and my overhead press that looks more like a cheerleader move and slipped me a Yaz-roofie in my strawberry flavored water (darn you Dasani and your delicious fruity flavored water)….I never tasted a thing…except strawberry. This explains everything. My inability to gain muscle, my 14 year old girl arms….it’s all coming together now. While I have been at the gym surrounded my juicing, testosterone reeking gym rat comrades, I have been “unjuicing” with and strawberry flavored estrogen cocktail. OMG…I’ve been Yazzercising!
Hmmmm, maybe I should CSI this and come to the conclusion that this is all that trainer’s fault…that’s got to be it. I’m going to start stretching today. I’ve got some very high, seemingly rock hard glutes to kick; I may need some boots. If any of you see me walk in to the gym in the near future wearing combat boots, you will know what is about to go down.
