dear "personal trainer" i've run into three times in the past week,
when i first saw your business cards spread around our "state of the art fitness center" (weight machine, treadmill, elliptical, stationary bike and a bizarre device that appears to be some strange hybrid between one of those round discs used for sledding and something i'm pretty sure my doctor had me lay upon during my last gynecological exam) a couple of months ago, featuring a photo of you standing in said "fitness center", complete with the apartment complex's pool in the background, i thought to myself, "what nerve!"
now, i see your brilliance.
this afternoon, as i ran/walked/ellipticized* for 2 1/2 miles, I noticed for the second time in the past week that you were "training" not one, but two, "clients".
well at least i think they were both clients. i mean, the guy was working his tail off. he'd already broken a sweat by the time i walked in.
the girl who came in about halfway through my workout, however....wow.
i mean, given that most of the effort she expended during her five minutes on the elliptical machine seemed to be devoted to poking at her smartphone instead of, oh, i don't know- actually breaking a sweat......is she actually paying for the privilege of playing "helpless lump", whining when you tell her to do burpees*, and "ooh"ing and "aah"ing over your abs while declaring that she wants some "just like them"?
if so, then not only do i applaud your resourcefulness (why go to the trouble of working through a "real" gym to train people) and your ability to multitask (two clients at once!), but also your brilliance in figuring out a way to not only work the available dating pool, but to get paid while doing so.
sincerely,
the blonde (well, technically, it's a rapidly fading blend of "electric lava" and "strawberry fields" at the moment) trying to cut down on the junk in her trunk
*not that i'm a fan of burpees either, mind you, but i'm not paying someone to decide whether or not i'm going to suffer through them.
