“I really don’t think I need buns of steel, I’d be happy with buns of cinnamon.”
Venice has a personal trainer, Miyagi, who has spent the last couple of months kicking her butt up and down a treadmill on her quest to lose some weight. However, after next to no results after the torture (and I’m not using the term facetiously, the girl can hardly walk after Miyagi puts her through her paces!), Venice called me after work one day a while back.
“It’s not working, C.”
“Well, have you tried talking to him about it?”
“We’ve tried everything! Both of us are frustrated, we’re not progressing at all and I just feel stuck. I think maybe it’s the birth control that’s making this so hard.”
This conversation sounded eerily familiar.
“Hold on a second,” I said, “are you…breaking up with him?”
She paused for a moment. “Yeah! I’m dumping him!”
“Er…can you dump a trainer?”
However, the other day Miyagi apparently had one last plan to salvage their floundering relationship. He’s completely reworked her nutrition plan and workout and she’s decided that she will try one more time (for the children). The menu actually seems pretty good and I’ve decided to join in with her for a while since I know I don’t get enough protein or eat as well as I could.
Of course, my work is trying to scupper my good intentions right off the bat. It’s Officer Lampost’s birthday and the tradition is to order out for someones birthday. And Sgt. Andes just filled all our candy jars to the brim. Very nice, but it doesn’t exactly inspire one to be sacrificing in the way of sugar! And breakups are hard, if Venice takes it badly we may both leap headfirst into the vat of Mars Bars togther!