Mr. July
My trainer for the Lose A Ton show is Reno, a name which lends itself to the obvious nickname of Reno 911. He’s a 23 year old hottie. I can say that because I’m a married cougar. Wait. Cougar would mean I’m on the prowl for fresh young meat. I’m not. I prefer the aged beef of my husband.
I would claim this is coming out so wrong but I like it that way.
I can joke with my trainer about his hot-ness because it’s all in fun and it embarasses the heck out of him. He is a bit reserved and hates the spotlight. Which means I have to take every opportunity to shine it on him.
I like to joke that my trainer is featured in the trainers of my gym calendar. He’s Mr. July, wearing a fireman’s uniform (but shirtless) and carrying a big hose. The caption reads, “Ma’am, I’m here to put out your fire.” I call him Mr. July and now so does the other trainers. The calendar doesn’t exist. But it should. You’d agree if you saw the trainers at my gym. And you were into fit dudes.
Today we began our session with him asking me for Kim Kardashian’s phone number. Because I’m SO hooked up in Hollywood. I say that sarcastically with rolled eyeballs. My trainer loooooooooves Kim Kardashian. When I came back from Hollywood without her number, he asked for the number of Britney Spears.
Of course he asked as I was lifting a 45lb weight bar over my head. I almost gave myself a concussion, I was laughing so hard. “Britney Spears,” I gasped. “Why do you want to get hooked up with that wacka-doodle?”
“Cuz she’s hot.”
He’s 23. Need I say more?
“Look,” I told him as I set the weight bar on the ground. “Maybe she isn’t as wacky as the press makes her out to be. She might be a perfectly wonderful woman. But you think I’m an insecure neurotic mess? I’m not even a star. Can you imagine how high maitenence an actual multi millionaire super star would be? Do you really want to spend your entire relationship going, “But you ARE beautiful, honey. You ARE talented, honey. You ARE famous, honey.”
“Heck yeah, she’s hot!”
I got down on the floor to do push ups. “So you’re telling me you like Ta-DOW girls?”
My trainer started laughing. “WHAT girls?”
“Ta-DOW! Girls who walk into a room and you go, “Ta-DOW! She’s hot! Girls who walk into a room coming AND going, they’re so stacked in all the right places.”
My trainer kept laughing, “Ta Dow girls. I have never heard that one before. Well, yeah. I guess that’s my type! Sure!”
I promised him IF I ever do make it in Hollywood, I will be sure to send a Ta-DOW girl his way. Now all I need is a TV show. Sure, how hard could THAT be? I have to get a TV show so my trainer can get laid. If he was here, he’d say, “I do just fine on my own, thank you. But uh.. if you DO meet Kim Kardashian….”
<P>
I forgot to tell Reno that I had told my trainers of my gym calendar joke to my mother, who later asked, “Do you have a copy of that calendar? Cuz I’d love to see it!”




I had expressed my love of Patrick on this blog before, which started a dialog between myself and Patrick, with me assuring him I’m not an insane stalker. Unless we’re talking about Chuck Lorre and perhaps I can get a bit unbalanced. I emailed Patrick and asked if I could work out with him while in town. He said yes! He’s fit AND he’s a risk taker! HAH!