The Net Dog Blog

Today I started working out with a personal trainer. Before you think I've gone all 'la dee da' on you, you should know that it was a Christmas gift from Blake. I think he feels that if I feel better about my body then maybe I'll feel better about life in general. Maybe he's right. However, right now I feel like I'm gonna die.
Lord, you never realize how out of shape you are or how ineffective your current workout is until you've had a muscley little Arab trainer pushing you. After the first exercise my legs were jiggling like Jell-O. Mmmm Jell-O. Anyway, I swear he was getting me back for Abu Ghraib or something. I feel like that wimpy guy in the Charles Atlas ad. However I think it's gonna take more than 7 days to whip me into shape.
I'm also supposed to keep a diary this week of everything I eat or drink. I think that might have something to do with the fact that since I saw him for my free initial session a month ago I've only lost one pound and 1 percent of body fat. I think he knows my secret shame. Shhhh ... lean close and I'll tell you... I'm an eater. That's right! I love to eat. Ok, I know that's not really a big secret. I'm one of those people you see on Oprah who "lives to eat instead of eats to live." Oh well. At least I'm not on crack. Mmmmm crack.
Anyway, so now I'm so sore I'm not sure if I'll be able to type anymore. Talk amongst yourselves.