(A curmudgeon's take on paradise)


Well, it's the new year ('07) and with the intention of starting out the year makes a resolution...right? Right! What is the resolution this year? Exercise! The condo is offering a trainer to any of us who wish to have one for one month once a week. Husband and I took the bait along with two other people for the 9 AM class every Thursday for the month of January.

Class 1

Husband and I show up in what we thought were appropriate outfits for the occasion. One look at our exquisite trainer was enough to contradict that notion. She was (is) beautiful and young with a body that God, not exercise, gave her. She was also very nice so we didn't immediately run screaming from the gym. The other two in the class looked to be ,more or less, in our age and condition group. That was another encouragement although my husband would have preferred one of his gender but that was not to be. So we got started with machine orientation. We went around the gym learning how to use each machine along with an explanation of the body target areas for each particular one. We took turns trying out each machine; on the whole, not too intimidating.

Class 2


I felt I, at least, looked the part in my newly bought spandex pants. Husband attired pretty much the same as before which is testimony to his ego strength and my lack thereof. We did our cardiac warm ups and then were instructed on stretching and the joys of the ball. I love that ball. It's a big, blue ball with which you can work on your balance and do exercises that take the place of the machines entirely. If I were going to stick with my resolution, I would invest in one of those balls but, already, I'm aware that resolve is waning. Husband is waning as well. I can tell he's not too happy to be in this class any more. Well...only two more to go.


Class 3

I don't feel too chipper. I think I over did things in the gym during this past week . I remember feeling much better when I wasn't training. I decided on the spot to have nothing more to do with this silliness. I would complete the course and that's it. My husband had precluded me on this issue so now, we were just playing along.


Class 4.

Husband slept in so I covered for him with not exactly a fib. "He is sick", I said, leaving off the end of the statement "of this". I'm sure the trainer is used to this puny excuse but she played the game as well.

And so ends the adventures of Mr and Mrs couch potatoes as they vow to take the stairs and then push the up button on the elevator of their condo on the Gulf of Paradise.


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