My trainer you’ve gotta be getting tired of hearing about her laughed at me today.
Not sure if it was because I couldn’t do the freakin’ plank, whatever that is, (and I know what the celebrated plank is, believe me) or some-other awful thing she wanted me to contort and do, and by the way, do 20 repetitions each side. No wonder I'm falling down on the stupid toilet. I swear it would be easier to wet my pants.
I told her, huffing and puffing and sweating like a hog running from a 55mph Polaris, “I’m going to get better, I promise.”
And she said, “I know.” In my head, I could hear a little sneer "bwahahaha, my pretty, I'm going to GET you!"
Me: “I’ve gotta quit whining and just rope the hell up.”
She: “Girl. You don’t whine at all. I have one client that tells me no for 30 minutes of her workout.”
Me: “No? It’s an option? Seriously?”
She: “I mean she tells me she’s not going to do the exercises I ask her to do...for about half of her hour.”
In my head: “Dang. I mean, what’s the freakin’ point of coming at all? That woman MUST be a bit** RICH.”
