I opted for a higher cut, tighter than usual tee-shirt and it appeared to be better. The twins were better concealed and you could still see the outline of my pleasantly plump body, but who am I trying to impress? A? He's seen it all and more and I'm fairly certain he's not thinking about me in any other way than getting me fit. So at this point, I just don't care how I look.
We started on the tread for 5. Moved over to leg presses and did my normal 90lb, 15 together, 15 separate, 12 separate, 10 separate. Leg extensions, 15 together, 15 separate, 12 separate, 10 separate. Yada, yada...
My touchstone J is also going to A. She and I compare notes on all that he makes us do and decide what we like. We also conspire to figure out strategies to make him take it easier on us. So far the best we've come up with is bribing him with my cooking. We haven't tried it yet, as we're saving it for something really bad. We might've found it.
Friday morning, AFTER her workout with him she phoned me.
"Do you know what he made me do?", she hissed.
Uh- Oh, I'm afraid - tell me.
"He made me do the stair master - 2 stairs at a time. I told him he was insane, but he forced me. I almost died, but do you think he cared? NO!".
I began to panic, then I thought about it. He can't possible think that I can do that! J is a twig and if she had troubles, he'd never make me do it. I relaxed. A likes me, he doesn't want me to keel over and die. He'll take it easy on me.
Back to Saturday morning, tread, leg presses, extensions blah, blah. Then A says lets go over to the stair master.
"NO WAY! A - J told me about this. You can't be serious, I can't do this. No way, no how. A, I refuse, I'm going to die. I'm going to have a heart attack. You don't want to kill me do you? Please, no. Please?A? Please?".
He didn't even blink.
"OK, K - we're going to do one minute as a warm up and then one minute taking 2 stairs at a time. Let's go. By the way, do you want me to grab your inhaler?"
Oh jeepers, what a sweetheart! He'll get me my inhaler, so that when my lungs explode, he'll be able to say, "Well I had the medicine in my pocket". Let's face it, A is A and he only cares about making me fit. Pleas and protests do nothing. He has a job to do and he does it.
I climbed on. 1 minute warm up - ok. Then 2 stairs for 1 minute.
OK so it wasn't so bad. I did it. I didn't die and I didn't need my inhaler. But I'm not doing 2 minutes. EVER.
Then onto our ball for our normal routine which was fine. Then he brings some disc out and a 15 lb weight. He tells me he's going to place on disk on my belly, with the weight on top of the disc and I'm to do my hip and butt thrusts. 3 sets.
I'm adjusting my love and devotion to him. It's apparent he wants to see me burst into tears and die a sweaty, grueling, no makeup death with my boobs tied & taped down to my chest. No medical examiner should have to see that.
I did them. I have to. It wasn't even that hard.
We finished up with my stretches and that was the end.
A is now my God. I pledge allegiance to him. I will not fear anything he tells me to do. I will become his perfect student. I will not protest when he says to do something that only a fit weenie gym bunny would do. I will not cry and beg to have him take it easy on me.
However, I still have my trump card. I can cook and he loves to eat.
I'll let you know when I plan on using it.
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