Tales of Wit and Charm…

When I told Trainer Tracey I’d buy a balance ball to workout with at home, I doubt this is what she had in mind:

I ran out of room on my clothes drying rack for my bras. Calm down, it’s not like you haven’t seen underwear before. You may have even seen mine if you ever hung out drinking at Murphy’s Bar in downtown Salt Lake during my late 20s. If you did, by chance, pick up a black lacy number off of the street can you mail it to me? I’ve never found one that fits as well as that one did.

Needless to say I’ve lost some of my workout motivation.  I really need to get back into the groove of it.  I’m sure the elderly couple misses me something fierce.

Trainer Tracey hates me.  She acts all nice and sweet, but secretly she wants me dead, or at the very least humiliated.

At my last training session she made me work out with those giant balls.  Yes, the balls that have terrified me for years. She quickly realized I have zero coordination when I couldn’t simply toss the ball and catch it with my feet while laying on my back.  So she punished me.

“Sarah, hold the ball between your thighs and pulsate.”

“Really? This isn’t a joke?  You seriously want me to sit in the middle of a gym full of people with a ball between my thighs and pulsate?”

“Yes.”

“If you weren’t such a great person, I’d really hate you right now.”

“I know.  Now pulsate and count to 30.”

I did, but I wasn’t very happy about it.  To make things worse, I got home and found my Gliding Discs had arrived in the mail.  I finally gave up on using paper plates when I came home to find Daisy gnawing on them.

The good news is if the discs don’t glide me into my skinny jeans as promised I can use them to glide over to the freezer for consolation ice cream.

Last night I had my second session with Trainer Tracey.  I accidentally spilled the beans and told her about the song I sang to RLO while we ran laps in the gym while carrying those damn 10 lbs balls.

“I hate Tracey, yes I do.  I hate Tracey and so should you.”

Rather than taking offense she laughed.  It makes working out with her so much easier just knowing she doesn’t mind if I have to hate her sometimes.

It was a great night at the gym, not only because we had a good workout, but because there were no police outside waiting to arrest me for statuatory rape.  I was so pumped about these Gliding Discs we used that rather than order some online and wait for their arrival, I rushed home and tried the routine again with paper plates.  I thought my plan was brilliant, but quickly realized my mistake when I couldn’t finish the workout because Daisy wouldn’t stop licking the plates.

Looks like I’ll be breaking down and ordering the plastic ones.  Luckily they look similar to Frisbees, so she won’t go near them.  She never was a Frisbee type of dog, even when she had both eyes.

To read my newest column for In Utah This Week go here.  Feel free to send sympathy cards… isn’t that what you do when people are almost murdered?

All summer long I’ve been making excuses why I can’t go swim in AK and Mrs. AK’s swimming pool.  The truth is that I haven’t felt comfortable in a swimming suit since 1996.  I know I’m not obese, but I’m certainly not fit enough to walk around in a two-piece.

I’ve wanted to attend some personal training sessions for years, but truthfully I’ve always been too self-conscious,  But this year I’ve decided to get over myself and do what it takes to finally be comfortable with my body.  I looked into the options my gym offers, but was less than impressed.  The Yuppie suggested his friend Tracey, who is a personal trainer.  I knew he wouldn’t recommend someone I would hate, mostly because he knows I’d bitch about it until his ears bled.

I met with Trainer Tracey this week and loved her.  She wasn’t intimidating at all, yet fit enough to kick my ass when I need it.  Which I will, since I’m lazy and really hate to sweat. The first session was a body and fitness assessment.  Saying I was pleasantly surprised with my results would be a complete understatement.  When she told me my body fat percentage I wanted to kiss her hard ON THE MOUTH!

My body fat was significantly lower than I expected.  I didn’t believe my results since they qualified me into the “athlete” category.  I asked her to double check, but she got the same results. I have bruises from those stupid skin fold calipers, but dammit those are the best bruises I’ve had in quite some time.  Yeah, I’d kill for some decent sex bruises, but that’s another post for another day.

Trainer Tracey and I decided to focus on endurance and toning, which I have a feeling will kick my ass since I was sore the day after a simple fitness test.  I’m forcing myself to stick with this for the next couple of months.  If only to reward myself with fitness prizes.  No, I’m not kidding.  Doesn’t every girl who loses a few pounds deserve running shoes covered in Barbie pink glitter?  I thought so.