Well, I'd anticipated having 7 long months of amusing and painful stories to share with you about me and my trainer, Wendy the Wicked. I'd paid for the sessions, so by darn, I'd get blog fodder out of them if nothing else. (I'd hoped for getting thinner and more toned, too, but I knew making a fool of myself at one point was a given.)
Then I went out of town on business for the week. Just one week. Missed one session. When I came back to the gym the following week, I was supposed to get with her and get back on the schedule. No sign of her. The next week, no sign of her. I figured she'd get on my case and start calling me, but she didn't. I started to get suspicious, especially when some dude was sitting at her desk.
So I finally broke down and asked the Twits at the front desk if Wendy was on vacation. They immediately perked up. "Are you one of hers?" I suppose I was. They proceeded to tell me she was still here, but in two weeks, Wendy would be gone. Apparently, her boyfriend had proposed while I was away and she was transitioning off to somewhere else.
Er... ok. So now what? I had a 7 month prepaid contract with her. They said her appointments were being taken on by Dude. I'd eyeballed Dude earlier while I was on the elliptical. I was not really interested in working out with him, much less having him weigh me or take my measurements. Honestly. He's about 22, buff and looks about as bright as the barbells along the wall. He's always chewing gum. I call him 'Dude' for a reason. The Twits said everyone just loved him, but I just don't think I can do it. I know I'm judging the book by the cover, but I don't care. I wasn't comfortable with being forced on Dude. I don't like change I don't initiate.
So I said to them - "And what if I don't like that?"
No joke - the Twits just stood there, stunned. Their eyes got big as saucers as they fought for words that were apparently beyond their vocabulary. I had to elaborate that I'd signed up to work with Wendy and I wasn't certain I wanted to continue with someone I didn't know. Finally, one of the Twits wrote down the number for the corporate office and asked me to call them. I'm currently waiting to see if I can get my money back or not. If not, I'm going to double up my appointments, let Dude torture me for 3 months and be done with it.
If I am stuck with Dude, I'm sure I'll have equally interesting tales to tell. Seriously, I really need to stop traveling. Not only did Wendy leave, but my favorite morning DJ disappeared, too. He moved to a station in Birmingham. When I went to the mountains, they laid off people at work. When I went to Disney, they laid off people at work. A couple years ago when I went to NYC, my grandpa died. Not sure what it is about me traveling... FYI, I'm going to California for the 4th of July, so hold tight until I get back. :)
I'm not good with change. How about you? Am I being silly or would you start working out with Dude?
PS. And I would also like to address the rumors that I somehow murdered Wendy and buried her in my backyard. That's is soooo untrue. It's too hard to dig in my backyard. :)