‘Nurturing’ comes easily to personal trainers
I exercise at a local health club three to four times a week.
You wouldn’t know it to look at me, but SOME people think I’m a stud. Octogenarian librarians and other frisky matrons, for instance, know a REAL man when they see one …
“Ethel, put down that book and LOOK!: That man’s NAKED!”
“Quick! Give me the binoculars, Louise …”
But enough about me. Let’s discuss today’s topic: personal exercise trainers.
My particular club’s crawling with ’em.
It baffles me: Why in the world would you pay someone to hurt you?
Why not just smack yourself in the forehead with a ball-peen hammer? It’s easy, quick, just as painful and shows individual initiative.
But I won’t go there: Besides, I’m too busy washing the blood off my hammer.
Just for the sake of fantasy, though, let’s say I was in the recovery room after a frontal lobotomy and suddenly thought, “Hey, I know. I’ll hire a personal trainer.”
I have one in mind. I’ve observed him nurturing his clients.
I call him “Saw 5.”
Saw 5 says “please” to his exercisers. I like that.
He says “please” when, say, his nearly comatose, guilt-ridden clients complete 1,249 pushups and need a teensy bit more energy to reach HIS goal of 1,250.
Saw 5 gets nervous when his charges are SO close …
“PLEASE, GOD, OH PLEASE LET MY PERSON DO ONE MORE PUSHUP, OR I’LL BE A FAILURE AS A PERSONAL TRAINER!” he screams, wildly waving his partially eaten custard-filled donut.
With this subtle, but effective motivation, his clients usually perform admirably — up until they begin writhing, then die on the spot (which regrettably causes more work for the janitors).
But to be fair, Saw 5 doesn’t condone death, only excruciating pain.
And he smiles a lot …
But his is not the smile of a well-adjusted human being.
Remember the inbred, scruffy Georgia hillbilly in the movie “Deliverance” — he with the three-day beard, the rotten teeth and the eyes that didn’t match?
He smiled, too.
That’s how our buddy the personal trainer smiles.
“OK. Let’s do some sit-ups,” he tells another client, his jackal-smile beaming. “We’ll begin with number one, and when we get to eight-hundred and ninety-eight you’ll only have two more to go.
“What!? YOU DON’T FEEEEEEL LIKE IT!?,” Saw 5 snorts, spitting out mushy donut parts onto his client’s sweat-stained T-shirt.
“Oh, for the love of lard! Stop whining, ya whale, and get moving. Can’t you see I’m trying to eat?!”
Saw 5: He’s fun.
Just beware of his smile.
— Paul Dunn is editor of the Tahoe Daily Tribune. He can be reached at (530) 542-8047 and firstname.lastname@example.org.