I’ve been in a pseudo barbaric relationship with my personal trainer for a year now. I’ve weighed pro against con and have arrived at the same conclusion each time – John has to go. Other than the humiliation heaped upon me and the excruciating pain he joyfully inflicts for one hour every week, he’s a tolerable guy. But the fairy tale must end sometime. Our Beauty and the Beast role-play is not really working for me. A girl can only be the Beast for so long. So, to my masochistic Beauty, I must say ‘fare thee well.’ I’ve enclosed this letter so that it may serve to guide you in future liasons and save some other Joe Schmoe from the agony of reaching for horizons that are clearly unattainable. Continue reading “WORKOUT WEDNESDAY DEAR JOHN TO MY PERSONAL TRAINER”