Tag Archives: Gym Instructors

Know how to Bullshit …

These were one of the first words our Journalism lecturer uttered to us bright eyed, raring to go Journalism enthusiasts when we joined University.

“A good journalist can bullshit about anything”, he blasted over the microphone in the cavernous lecture hall as we sat there gawking at how someone in a “teacher’s” position could so easily swear in a mock classroom. I know, I know, boy did we have some catching up to do on reality!

Anyway, this story (although pretty pointless as well) has nothing to do with my wild and unrestrained journalism days (let me live the fantasy okay?).

I decided to put this theory to test with my gym instructor after hours of targeted researching on the net over the weekend (basically just bumming around really) on how exercising is really and truly detrimental to my health. Turns out my gym instructor, in addition to being allergic to sanity, happiness, content taste buds and a well rested skeletal structure (just to mention a few) is also highly allergic to apparent, well researched “bullshit”.

Either that, or I’m not as good a journalist as I think -_-

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Being Good can be Painful …

So, I was a good girl yesterday and finally decided to bravely jump onto the treadmill at my gym after a four week sabbatical.

Let me just say, if you aren’t particularly fond of tragic endings – to stop reading now.

After a horrendous ten minutes (is it just me, or does time conspire to travel at a MUCH slower rate when you’re on the brink of passing out due to a lack of oxygen consumption?), I have made the following discovery:

1. You should be able to sue Mother Nature for feeling as much pain as exercise causes you.

2. There are muscle groups you really, truly should not be able to feel as a general, unarguable rule. In fact, I would like to put a petition in to eradicate them due to their detrimental repercussions. Just like our Appendix.

3. I’d like to also be able to freely reprimand whoever created the wonderful, albeit, sometimes frustratingly useless human appendages we have all been forcefully “gifted”. Don’t get me wrong, I am very grateful for all of them, I would just like to revisit the pain sensors blueprint please. Pronto.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go check if my thighs are still attached to the rest of me.

Personal Trainers are Satan’s minions

I told my personal trainer friend that “her people” (by this I mean Satan’s minions) were wrong when they said exercise was good for my body. I mean, the age-old adage of everything in moderation had to be true for all of life’s twists and turns otherwise my whole perspective on the world would have to be blown to smithereens right there and then.

My friend told me to elaborate and though I was acutely aware of walking smack bang into the middle of a mine field, apparently endorphins do shite for your brain cells which is extremely lethal for someone with my um well, limited brain capacity – but enough about me.

I told her that I was feeling pain in body parts that I was pretty sure didn’t exist in the species I have been led to believe I belong to since I popped out of my mother’s womb and how I was going to write to my local council and state that anyone who exercises a fellow human being to start “feeling” these body parts should be extradited (to hell presumably) immediately.

Now I know what you’re thinking, how dumb am I? For your kind information, my friend’s smirk did set warning bells clambering up my spine and though I did attempt to run in the opposite direction, the dumbbells she had attached to my ankles blocked my noble retreat and she politely asked (with a skipping rope in her hand that she had sinisterly changed into a makeshift whip that would put Spartacus to shame) that I drop and give her twenty.

Suffice to say I escaped with my life just to recount this story to you for witness purposes on the event of my untimely death. Got to go, she’s back …

How was your weekend?

Mine was good until I decided to watch my karma.

So … I decided it was mean to cancel on my personal trainer friend. Just a word of warning to my valued readers, next time don’t be fooled by that smug bugger sitting on your right shoulder, at least the Devil perched on your left one doesn’t pretend to be nice when it’s channeling “Chucky”, the evil doll!

Because I truly believe you can learn something from every experience, here’s a pointer or two:

1. Personal Trainers never “mistakenly” set a meeting spot near an obstacle course.

2. Trust your “spidey sense” that is ricocheting against the walls of your skull when it tells you there is something DEFINITELY wrong with this picture if a personal trainer entices you with “Come over, it’ll be fun. We can have ice cream later on”.

I worked out on my day off, which should be a punishable offence in a court of law by the way, and paid for my ice cream twice with a “casual run” (try blood pumping, heart attack inducing sprint that would put Usain Bolt to shame).

My friend promised me that my backside would thank me today. Apparently, dead things can’t talk … or give pep talks, and because my body was bludgeoned to death yesterday, let’s just say, I’m still waiting for my thank you.

My spin instructor told me this morning that she’s after my soul!

If I had any lingering doubts before, they were finally eradicated. She’s definitely the Devil :/ But, it turned out that she was actually talking about my sole, so now I feel stupid. And paranoid -_-

I still think she’s the Devil though.