The Blonde Duck Gets a Personal Trainer

I am an exercise junkie. A perky, blonde, aerobics loving, wiggling, dancing, kickbox frenzy, squrriell machine loving junkie. I love aerobics classes and the perky music. I love pushing myself on the squirrel machine and circling my legs midair like a hamster on a wheel. I love the sweat and the exhilaration you feel afterwards. And yes- my entire family, in-laws, husband and friends think I'm insane. I'm used to it.

So when I moved down here and joined the women's gym nearby, I was thrilled to discover they had free personal training! FREE! Not for one session, not for three, but for an enternity! I could have ten years of personal training and it would be free!

I can see you sneering at me and turning up your nose, Invisible Friend. "So," you say snottily. "You're paying out the wazoo and having to make blood donations to pay for your membership, you endorphin junkie." I laugh at you. I laugh hard and loud. Because the gym is only $20 a month! HA! Your silence and shame amuses me. You should know never to argue with the fitness crazed Blonde Duck.

Meanwhile, I was quite excited about this. I had done cardio and half of my toning regiment. I was sweaty and my underwear was sticking to my butt. I was in heaven. I went up to the desk and shoved my card in the manager's face.

"I'm here for my appointment with Megan," I said confidently, flapping my appointment card near his nose. He took my card and looked disappointed. I became alarmed.

"I'm sorry," he said, "Megan's not here. Did no one call you?"

I was distressed. "No," I said sadly. My toning issues would have to wait for another day.

He grinned. "I'm just kidding," he said, looking pleased with himself. "Go fill out this card and she'll be with you in a second." I filled out my card, and Megan came and introduced herself. She looked me over.

"Well you don't need to lose weight," she said. I beamed. "So I guess you just are here for weights and toning?"

"Yes, I want to keep my program from going stale and learn some new moves," I said enthusiastically. "I also want to work on some of my problem areas."

"No problem," she said. She gathered up my chart and took me to the free weight area, where I described my exercises. She started designing a new toning program for me, and I paid close attention. She also started showing me new techniques that I had never seen. I was in awe and trying to memorize everything.

She showed me a stand that you leaned on with your feet on a plate and moved your front up and down to work your lower back. It looked painful. I set myself up, leaned forward, and promptly almost hit my nose. The stand was also bolted to the ground.

"Are you ok?" Megan said, trying to prevent me from smashing my teeth in the ground.

"Fine," I grinned, as I did the exercises to show I could actually to them. The ones on my side to work my obliques were more difficult. I felt like a drunkard about to tip over as the ground rushed at me every few seconds. I thought I had strong obliques, but the more I did the technique, the more I felt like my side was going to give up and die.

Was my embarrassment done there? Do you even have to ask?

The next machine was one that you stepped on and it used your own weight to provide resistance as you pulled yourself with your arms to work your arms and back. I stepped on it so happily I propelled myself to the ceiling.

Whoosh! the hydraulic lift said as I shot up to the old ceiling, staring at the tiny white bumps that were an inch from my nose.

"Am I supposed to be this high?" I asked as I looked down at Megan. I felt like a giant.

Megan didn't even bother trying not to laugh. She was cackling as she shook her head. "Nope," she said. "Let's try this again." Eventually, I managed not to shoot myself to Mars and get the hang of it. It was a fun exercise, but hurt. I thought my arms were developed, but once again I was wrong.

Still, I wasn't done making a full of myself. After nearly falling on my butt with the squat machine, ripping my shorts with a hamstring exercise, and revealing my genetic tummy pooch by lifting up my shirt and asking what was wrong with me; I faced another challenge. There were these little sleeves hanging off a white metal weight system. You put your arms through the sleeves and lifted yourself off the ground to work your abs. However, you had to have a bench to get up there so in actuality you were swinging like a monkey at the jungle gym.

Well, I got on the bench, slid my arms through and picked my legs up. I promptly put them down.

"You're supposed to hold them," Megan said. So I tried holding them. Since the bench was so high, I felt like I spent most of my time trying not to tapdance on the bench.

"I don't think I've got the hang of this," I said, grinning at my own pun. Megan stepped up and showed me the real way to do it. "See, you do this way and it works your lower abs and this way works your obliques." I watched her fascinated. She was twisting and lifting and squirming around like a worm on a hook in midair. It was amazing and took strength I wasn't sure I could possess.

So, by the end of my session, I had in my possession three pieces of paper, a new work out plan and a spinning head as I tried to remember everything she'd told me. So in the next few months, the Blonde Duck will be toned, taut and all the more cuter! That's right. I'll have my personal trainer to thank for it.