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Santa Maria Sun / Humor

The following article was posted on September 5th, 2018, in the Santa Maria Sun - Volume 19, Issue 27 [ Submit a Story ]
The following articles were printed from Santa Maria Sun [santamariasun.com] - Volume 19, Issue 27

Humor: Rebecca works it out

By Rebecca Rose

For many years now I've warned my enemies that I would get back in peak physical condition and come for them. Well that day has finally come as I, Queen of Couch Surfing, have taken on a personal trainer.

I legitimately felt bad for the man. Here is someone who has devoted his profession to the art of personal fitness forced to endure me, a person who thinks watching a marathon of One Tree Hill counts as cardiovascular activity. I have the physical strength of a sea slug suffering from a Victorian-era consumptive disease. 

It took some convincing at first to get my trainer to take me on as a client. Mostly because after describing my daily food and exercise routine, I had to convince him I wasn't secretly a mummy who comes to life when the museum is lifted from the enchanted curse. The sessions started out fine. I was asked to keep a food diary, which I mistakenly had thought a "food diary" was something a lonely tomato writes to opine about how a hot piece of lettuce hasn't asked them to the school dance yet. Apparently it's a list of the foods you consume every day. Who knew?!

The first few entries of my food diary were pretty much like, "Had two glasses of chardonnay at a wine tasting, three Mentos, six of these weird dumpling things some chef asked me to try, and a dry bagel someone left in the breakroom." We were off to a banging start. 

He asked me a lot of questions about my exercise habits and the amount of physical activity I get on a daily basis.

"Well, I do a lot of online shopping," I explained (it's true). 

"That's not ... exercise," he retorted.

"Well, it is draining," I replied. "I mean, have you ever tried combining a Sephora coupon with your daily membership reward points?" 

He stared at me for five minutes in utter silence. I then told him I was "exhausted" just thinking about my online shopping cart dilemmas and asked for some water and a quiet place to lie down for 20 minutes. That was our first day.

The next day, he asked me what my personal goals were.

"I want people to look at me and immediately hate me," I said. "I want them to absolutely fear me, but also smile in my face because they know I can destroy them."

"I ... I just meant, 'What are your goals' in terms of weight loss or fitness," he stammered. 

"I know," I said.

The day after that I had a miraculous breakthrough. I couldn't hold back my joy at what I had achieved.

"You've challenged me in a way I never thought possible," I told my trainer. "I never had any idea I was capable of pushing my body to this level. I hit my breaking point and went beyond the pain. It was outstanding."

"I literally just told you you can't wear heels when you're working out here," he replied. 

"Yes, yes you did," I said. "See, we did it together."

Things continued to be extremely challenging for me. At one point, I stopped moving altogether and collapsed on the floor. 

"This is too much," I whined. "I need to stop."

My trainer immediately rushed over.

"Don't worry, Rebecca," he assured me. "If the weights are too heavy we can–"

"No," I whimpered in my state of exhaustion. "My eyeliner is smudged from all the sweat. I need to go re-apply it."

"Please, Rebecca, please not this again," he muttered, through what I assumed were tears of pride at witnessing my exceptional stamina.

"I may need you to call 911," I gasped, desperately reaching for my makeup bag.

After that, my trainer asked for a weeklong break. It's probably because he is so blown away by all my progress. After all, he's probably never had a client quite as dedicated to fitness as me. 


Rebecca Rose is contemplating dessert. Contact her at rrose@santamariasun.com.




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