Orientation. Adonis just walked into my physical fitness
room, with biceps and abs that won’t quit. He’s explaining
in lovely detail what I can expect in the next 11 sessions.
All I care about is how soon we can marry and raise our six kids.
Day 2-
He’s slowly pulling my ankles to strengthen each muscle while
I dream of our honeymoon in Aruba. He turns me over, puts
gentle pressure on my spine and sacroiliac, asking if this hurts.
Piece of cake. He could yank out every bone in my body and
alphabetically arrange them on the wall and I wouldn’t feel a thing.
This is one smooth Greek god.
Day 3 -
Today he’s a walking comfort machine, massaging every sore
muscle while my pupils dilate and I imagine a field of lavender.
Either he’s surreptitiously replaced some muscles in my back
to make me feel better or he’s discovered some dormant ones
and with the breath of kindness, blew new life in them Who cares?
The effect is the same. I’m locking the door and never leaving.
Day 4 -
Adonis looks tired. Poor thing. I wonder if we should reverse roles
today. (In my dreams). He’s cutting the session short because he
says I’m in too much pain. Well, duh, isn’t that why I’m here? To
get physically fit again? It’s only $125.00 a session and money
grows madly and multiplies on magnolia trees. I’d pay $450.00
for each of these” to-die-for” massages. It’s worth every shiny
Lincoln copper penny.
Day 5-
Today he’s pulling and stretching my neck so I can gaze up into
his blue eyes and see my own reflection. He’s telling me about
his four sons who play on a Little League team. Hold it!
His WHAAAAT? I didn’t even know he was married let alone
have enough kids to fill his own school bus. Where’s his stupid
wedding ring, anyway?
Day 6-
I drag myself in and fall down on the table. Who inserted a
steel slab under this thin mattress to make it so hard? Adonis
is working on my neck and going on and on about his beautiful
wife while I absentmindedly count the holes in the ceiling tiles.
Day 7-
He insists one of my legs is shorter than the other and tries to
remedy it in one session. My argument is it took 40 years to
get that way and we should allow 40 years for it to reverse itself.
He wins and pulls my leg out of its socket, ignoring my screams
by jamming a pillow over my head.
Day 8-
Today Adonis Adolph Hitler marches in to a staccato trot, salutes
and asks if I’ve been doing my home exercises faithfully. I cross
my fingers, eyes and toes and tell him “yes.” If I admit otherwise,
he’ll pull my other leg off.
Day 9 -
He stands behind my pillowed head and forces my neck into a
45-degree angle then waits for my spine to snap in two. When it
doesn’t, he places his foot against the wall behind him and tries
to remove my head from my body. Failing this, he forces his
thumbs below my cranium to shut off all circulation to render me
unconscious. Permanently.
Day 10 -
Insisting that my spine is out of whack, he places his full weight
across my pathetic, prone body and tries to break my back and
reset it without anesthesia. When he asks if it hurts and receives
no response from me because I’m dead, he declares the session
over and goes home.
Day 11 –
Adolph Hitler bends and twists my knees ‘til they swell like beach
balls with dimples, then demands that I do deep-knee bends. I
do half a bend and faint. He resuscitates me with a whack on the
head and insists I touch my toes. I can’t even touch my waist so
he lectures me sternly on "Physical Fitness For Fat, Frail Females
Over Forty." I close my eyes and dream of him impaled on his
golf club.
Day 12 -
My last day! He gives me a quick massage, enters data on his
computer stating that I show 100 percent improvement and I tell
him he's the best trainer since Gold invented a Gym. We part
amicably, smile, shake hands, and I limp my way to the parking lot
where I gleefully pour a box of carpet tacks behind each of his tires.
