Personal Trainers are Strict

My friend and neighbor is a personal trainer. She and I agreed to trade services: I design and re-work her closet and wardrobe and she kicks my butt into shape before my ten year high school reunion.

From the beginning I made her aware that I might prove to be one of her more "challenging" clients. I hate to work out. Sweat gives me acne, there is nothing I would rather wear less than a rubber-soled shoe, and the only time I feel it necessary to run is if I am being chased by an intruder with a deadly weapon of some sort. She would have to force me to exercise and I encouraged her to do so.

So today I started thinking about what a strict trainer she is. And by strict I mean great, excellent, the very best.

As hard as I try to tap dance around our workout and attempt to bribe her with wine she doesn't give up. It's not her reunion that is fast approaching. These aren't her flabby arms that must look svelte in the unforgiving, cap-sleeve dress I purchased for the event. Yet her persistence and energy endures. I'm pretty positive if I were in her sneakers and had to put up with me I would have walked a long time ago.

So thank you Liz for sticking with and not giving up on me. I praise you for your patience and dedication to the cause. I promise to get serious about our workout schedule and not fake illness or debilitating injury...starting Monday.