“Wow, if I had your muscles no one would mess with me!”
I blurted out to my protein bar eating, bench pressing, no neck elevator mate.
“You’d be suprised” he quickly retorted “Deep down, I’m a total pussy”
The perfect exposition for my first gym experience.
No, I’m not trying to be the first Jewish American Gladiator just want to sweat out some of my anxiety before I hit the 10W to head home sweet home.
In an effort to get me to lay down some plastic, the gym offers a free personal training session. Let’s get ready to rumble.
“Hiya Jessie, I’m Keith..and for the next hour you are mine”
My very new trainer shares the same name as my very old ex boyfriend – this will come in handy when I’m using his chest as a punching bag.
Squats, Heart Conditioning, Stairmastering – as soon as I was about to look in the mirror to comment on how lame I looked, Keith’s sweaty brow and Mr. Clean Earring “got all up in my face” sweetly screaming “you got this, you got this girl!”
Soar Muscles? Fatigue? A general distaste Aerobics music? I’m not sure exactly what I got but it’s alot cooler than road rage.
