You know how you can tell when someone is coming to talk to you, even if you don't know her and she has no reason to talk to you? That happened to me tonight. I'm on the shoulder press machine at the gym, listening to my iPod, kind of zoning out. And one of the trainers starts weaving through the machines toward me.
Fuck. What the hell does she want?
"Have you had your free personal training session yet?"
Why the fuck didn't I say yes? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? Why can't I lie when it will get me out of an awkward situation? WHY? Maybe it's because I've been a member of that damn gym since 1996 and haven't gotten a damn free thing from them. But I don't want a free personal training session, so that doesn't exactly make sense.
Dammit. I tried to make it difficult to schedule me for a session. Dude, I'm here at 7:30, why do you think I might be able to get here by 4:00 p.m. or why do you think I'm going to yoga in the morning? Eh. She got me scheduled for next Wednesday. We're going to go over free weights! And active resting (is that like, Kegels and leg jimmies? 'Cause I've got that down)! I've used free weights. Part of the reason I avoid them at this gym is because I'm worried I might "accidentally" drop a weight on the toe of some douchebag who is slamming his heavy weights to the floor and disturbing me during yoga. Oops!
But then, yay me! I remembered I'd just agreed to go to my goddaughter's birthday dinner on Wednesday. Besides, I can't afford personal training sessions, which is what this is all about. So, I stopped in to tell Amy (who might not even be in marginally better shape than me ... seriously, I can't even get one of the hot trainers? Honestly) that I couldn't make it. Her schedule was super busy, so she was going to pass me off ...
To the trainer who looks like a Monchichi. FUCK. I cannot stand this overly-fake-tanned girl. At least she's not wearing the ridiculous weaves any more. Girl, you're not fooling anyone when you're here one day with hair that can barely be pulled back into a tiny ponytail and then the next day, you've got hair spilling out all over the place. The headbands are a dead giveaway, too.
Oh God. What have I gotten myself into? I can't call in sick, because I don't want to skip a workout. Dammit all to hell. Maybe it'll be good to change things up a bit ...