Blood, sweat, and treadmills.

Tonight I met the male reincarnation of Jillian Michaels. As a result, I am bleeding, bruised, and very well may vomit.

Shawna and I took the plunge, you see, and started on a trial membership at a gym for a month to see if we like it before joining. When you join this particular gym they make you do an assessment whereupon you have a free session with a trainer and they tell you how much you suck. I had my assessment today at 9 p.m. It turns out no one works out at 9 p.m. on a Thursday, which is one thing I had going for me tonight.

The trainer first began asking me about my fitness goals and game plan, etc. My first mistake was wearing my marathon pink-skull t-shirt (Shawna told me to, cause it makes me look hard core). My second mistake was telling him I've lost over 70 pounds and just ran a marathon. Clearly, he had the wrong impression of me after those statements. Hardcore, maybe, but athletic and coordinated? Hardly.

He asked if I was warmed up, and I said no--off to the treadmill we went. He told me to stand on the sides and set the treadmill to a 7.0 mph speed. That's an 8:34 mile. I do not run a mile in 8:34. It went something like this:

Trainer: Okay, jump on.
Me: Um. I'm really slow, just so you know, and not used to treadmills.
Trainer: Oh, you'll be fine, just go for it.
Me: THUMP.

Yes, I face planted. Hard. On I jumped, and back went my feet. I caught myself with my knees and my elbows, which are now bruised and bloody. Of course, that wasn't enough, as then the trainer decided to save me by grabbing the back of my pants and sports bra and lifting me into mid-air. There I was, flying through the air by my clothing, as my pants slid down and I was left thinking, "Oh lord, they're going to see my vagina."

Trainer Man apologized profusely. In my attempts to seem hardcore, I said, "Oh, no worries, but I might bleed on your treadmill."

It didn't end there--I went through his whole, hardcore workout. Think lots of lifting, sweating, grunting, and bleeding through my open treadmill wounds. And he made me jump on one of those little platform things. I see people doing it on The Biggest Loser all the time, and think it looks easy--those bitches are less than easy! Finally, I finished, and he told me he was impressed because I'm hardcore. I ran home and told Shawna all about it, and she claims that she is going to refuse to go on Monday to her assessment. Then we ran to the neighbor's house to tell her about it.

Did I mention I face planted?

Dolly Parton is on Leno right now, and I have to ice my legs. Good night.