And so my time as a serious fitness-minded individual came to an end when my block of personal training sessions ran out. Happily, I thanked my trainer for all of his encouragement and hard work, and went off to pursue physical perfection alone, armed with the knowledge he had given me and my own grit and determination.
I’m kidding! When my sessions ran out I bought so many more that the gym added six months to my membership for free, and went out and got me a 43-inch plasma TV and delivered it to my door as a thank you.
Yes, I could have gone out on my own and applied what I’ve learned from my sessions to solitary workouts. But what no one really took into consideration in terms of my personal training (least of all me) is that I have a predilection for monomania and a personality that errs on the side of addiction. In a year that has seen me mostly quit drinking, give up my beloved Pepsi, stop sleeping with the white noise of a fan, and struggle with smoking more seriously than at any other point since I started at age 15, I needed a new project.
Besides, my personal trainer and I are finally at the point where he talks to me about self-pleasure (did you know that “masturbate” was also called “mastuprate”? Try saying that!). I have the feeling we’ve only peeled away one layer to the onion of this guy’s personality. And I can’t wait to keep peeling.