I met my personal trainer today. She is a small blonde mean person.
Actually, she’s not really mean, she’s really nice, and I’m four pounds less fat than I thought I was.
But things hurt. I ache in the places where I used to play, Mr. Cohen, and I really didn’t do that much. Ai Yi Yi. I told her the only thing I can’t do is the treadmill, because I fall off the back if anyone says hello to me. She gave me a very funny look, but said that that was fine, there were lots of other cardio machines. Either that, or they can hang a giant sign on my back that says “Don’t Say Hello”. I need to do solo stuff, not classes, because I’m antisocial that way…
And I don’t care what she says, I’m not going to poop on the newspapers, at least not until I’m finished reading them.