I joined a gym the Sunday.

Went for my **~Training Session~** on Monday. Of course it was, pretty much what you’d expect… Humiliating as all hell. I got there at one o’clock as instructed. The trainer, who I’ll refer to as THOR, wasn’t there.

I waited.

…and waited.

THOR showed up at 1:20pm. It went downhill from that point…

THOR: Dude.

Me: You’re late.

THOR: But bro, Yer ‘pointment whut’n ’til one fif-teen.

Me: Oh sorry. That makes you, um… late.

THOR: Man! Dude. Sorry.

Me: It’s cool.

THOR:
k. I’m THOR.

Me: Hey THOR. I’m Mark.

THOR: What say we get you weighed in?

Me: What say. (then I get on the scales).

THOR: You don’t LOOK like you’d weigh that much.

Me: Hmmm… I guess I oughta join a gym or something. What Say.

THOR: HAHAHAHA that’s a good one mr. Mark.

Me: [thinking] Screw ya THOR.

Then we retreat to THOR’s office.

THOR: Blah, Blah, Blah, Gloots, Blah, Blah, Blah, Body Mazz, Blah, Blah, Blah, Lean Muscle, Blah, Blah, Blah….

Me: [thinking] Fuck. I haven’t weighed this much since Leslie and I played piggy back. Their scales have GOT to be wrong. It’s must be set to IQ instead of LBS.

THOR: Blah, Blah, Blah, …your goals?

Me: [not thinking] Huh? Oh. Yeah. Goals? Yeah. I’ve got goals… I’ve got goals all over the place. Matter of fact, I’m one goal-oriented mother… I’ve gotta goal to get back to my superhero weight of 180. I want to be healthy. I want to feel good again. I’d like to be lean, not worried too much about bulking up. Matter of fact I’d like not to worry– you know stress less. I’d like to move. I want a better relationship with my kid, the MeenAger, at least for the next two years until she goes to college. I want to pull out of this brain-searing depression. I want to feel creative again. I want to be a better conversationalist. I’d like to pay off some credit cards. I want to get some new tennis shoes. I’d like to have sex, or at least a sex like activity with my wife. I’d like to lose about four pounds of face. Regrow hair. And last but not least, I’d like to NOT kill another Personal Fitness Trainer.

Yeah, I’d say I’ve got goals.

THOR: [mouth open, stunned.] ~blink. ~blink.

THOR: HAHAHAHA you’re too funny mr. Mark.

THOR: What say we ge’cha started with a good warmup.

Me: good? What say.

Then THOR proceeds to add a pain component to the humiliation.

Halfway through the **lower body** workout, as I’m biting my lower lip trying to hold back the tears…

THOR: Burnin’? You feelin’ the burn yet? Give me four more. Three. Two. And…

Me: Ut. Ooob. Eeeem. Leeb.

Me: [holding back the tears, seriously] Wait…. Wait…. Wait a second…

Now! Just now, you just managed to push me past the threshold. Congratulations, you just triggered a killer Vicodin habit in me.

THOR: HAHAHAHA you’re just too funny mr. Mark. Toooo funny. What say we get you started on the [toe push] machine, it’ll help your definition.

Me: What say.