At Least My Pants Didn't Split

I get to the gym, and Tyrese is waiting for me.
Great.
I hurriedly skip by him and head into the locker room. When I'm done, he is still in the exact same location he was when I arrived. Leaning up against a machine, arms crossed and smiling.
I hate when he's smiling.
"It's a beautiful day outside. We're going outside"
I hate outside.
"But, but, but, we were just outside last week. Remember?" I whine and it makes me cringe, but I do it anyways.
"You can do with more sunshine, you look like you spend all your time in front of a computer."
There's something wrong with that? I roll my eye so far back into my head I'm afraid I'm going to lose a contact.

We walk outside into the blinding sunshine. (grrr....) Today is "legs" day, so this should be interesting. He starts stretching, and hopping around on his toes. I imitate him, so I'm hopping around too. (I feel and probably look like a tool.) He starts doing lunges. I stand there and stare.

We're standing in front of the gym. There are windows that go all across the front of the building. Plus, all the treadmills and bikes are pointed in our direction, to be able to see outside.
Great!
If he thinks I'm going to be doing this outside and be happy about it, he has another thing coming. He finishes lunging across the sidewalk, as far as he can go, before it turns into parking lot. I'm still standing there, grinding my teeth.
"Okay, go," he shouts at me from the parking lot.
I still stand there, with my arms crossed.
"GO!"
"Dammit," I mutter to myself, as I start to do lunges.
This is hard.
And it hurts.
And people are watching me.
I'm afraid that I'm going to fall, and my pants are going to split. (Yes, because that kind of stuff always happens to me.) I'm counting each lunge, because I think that it will be like every other exercises we have done, and will be in reps and sets. It takes me 23 lunges to get across to where he is. I get there, and I feel like I have to pee. I hop around, trying to get my mind off my bladder.
"Good! Now go back."
What?
I start to go back across, and halfway through, I start to tip over. I manage to get my balance, but startles me for a second. (I think I pee a little). I make it back to the beginning, and start hopping around like Rocky. (because....I mistakenly think that I'm done.)
"Okay, do four more round trips, and call me," and then he goes back inside to the air conditioned gym.
Now, as you can guess, the first thing I did was try to figure out my escape. I glanced over, and saw Tyrese staring at me from inside the gym. I calculate that by the time I made a run for my car, Tyrese would beat me to my car. (I imagine that he can run faster than I can, right?) So, I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and start lunging. (did I just make up a word??) I start doing the math. I can do double the amount of lunges, if my steps aren't as wide. But the narrower steps give me more balance, and seem easier. Or, I can do the wide lunges that I was doing earlier, with hardly any balance, and more strain, but I can cover more ground thus I do fewer.
The eternal conundrum.
I do one round of wide lunges, and my legs start to burn. I do the next round of lunges with the shorter stride, and notice that my core starts to burn. ( I pee a little more.)
I'm freaking screwed.
I glanced over, and see Tyrese watching me. I think he's drinking a smoothie too. (I'm not sure which of these two makes me more pissed.) He's just watching me. I curse at him. Then, I curse at myself some more. I can't believe I pay someone to do this to me, three times a week.

Later, I find out that he puts me outside whenever he can, because I "distract" everyone. I like to think of it as "entertain".
Right?

More celebrity workouts

Now, I really wish I could say that it was easy. I wish I could say that it was fun. Most of all, I wish I could say that I didn’t cry in the gym.
But, I would be lying.
The diet was difficult to maintain. Very difficult. I was eating like a cave man. No processed foods, no convenience foods at all. I actually had to cook my a few meals, and freeze them, because I couldn’t find the time to cook a meal from scratch. I ate chicken during the day and fish at night. (The first time I tried to reheat my fish in the microwave at work, the cloud of noxious fish smell hung in the air for most of the day. I had to hide in the stockroom to avoid getting caught eating it. I would have been lynched.) My greens were just that. Just greens. I couldn’t even call it a salad. I wasn’t allowed carrots, cucumbers, sprouts. I wasn’t allowed any dressing. (non-fat or low fat even). I ate so much spinach and lettuce, that I was sure that my skin would turn green. I’m not even going to remind you about the foul smell that I emitted due to my daily intake of asparagus. (FOUL!) The food was bland, and the proportions were small. Plus, it made me cranky.
The workouts were daily. Even though I only had my trainer three times a week, I was to walk on the treadmill every day. Now, it was a slow walk, but a long one. I was to walk on the treadmill for at least an hour. The biggest challenge was actually doing it. And fighting the boredom. I tried to watch tv, read, listen to audio tapes, and even brought my portable VCR to watch the latest movies. I was still always bored. Now, I would kill for an hour to myself!
The actual workouts were the same. I would start with 20 mins on the treadmill. Then, I would move through the nautilus machines with my trainer. Many reps, but with low weights. I would end with abs and then 20 min cool-down on the treadmill. (the cool-down was on my own time.) My ab workout the first day was 15 “bicycles”. (lying on a mat, on your back, knees bent, with your hands behind your head. You bring your right elbow to your left knee. Repeat.) I struggled through my 15. The next workout, he told me to do 75. I looked at him like he was some sort of mutant alien.
“Well, he has me confused with another client. I’ll just gently remind him that this is only my second day.”
Oh, he knew who I was. I was the asswipe that was going to be doing 75 bicycles on the mat. I did them. (well, I said I did them, I actually did 74 of them, but somehow that always made me feel good. “Ms. Passive Aggressive,” that’s me.) I continued to go to my workouts. Despite the stomach turning that would happen to me right before my session. I tried to ignore all the doubts and all the temptations.
Like I said before, I really wish I could say it was easy.

Next up: my trip to the ER! creative eating, and shame.