Day 1 - Orientation. Adonis just walked into my physical fitness room, with biceps and abs that wonít quit. Heís explaining in lovely detail what I can expect in the next 11 sessions. All I care about is how soon we can marry and raise our six kids.
Day 2- Heís slowly pulling my ankles to strengthen each muscle while I dream of our honeymoon in Aruba. He turns me over, puts gentle pressure on
my spine and sacroiliac, asking if this hurts. Piece of cake. He could yank out every bone in my body and alphabetically arrange them on the wall and I wouldnít feel a thing. This is one smooth guy!
Day 3 - Today heís a walking comfort machine, massaging every sore muscle while my pupils dilate and I imagine a field of lavender. Either he has surreptitiously replaced some back muscles to make me feel better or heís discovered some dormant ones and with the breath of kindness, blew new life in them Who cares? The effect is the same. Iím locking the door and setting up residence.
Day 4 - Adonis looks tired. Poor dear. I wonder if we should reverse roles today. (In my dreams). Heís cutting the session short because he
says Iím in too much pain. Well, duh, isnít that why Iím here? To get physically fit again? Oh, well, itís only $125.00 a session and money grows madly on magnolia trees. Iíd pay $450.00 for each of theseĒ to-die-forĒ massages. Itís worth every copper penny.
Day 5- Today heís pulling and stretching my neck so I can gaze up into his azure blue eyes and see my own reflection. Heís telling me about his four sons who play on a Little League team. Hold it! His WHAAAAT? I didnít even know he was married, let alone have enough kids to fill his own school bus. Whereís his stupid wedding ring, anyway?
Day 6- I drag myself in and fall down on the table. Who inserted a steel slab under this thin mattress to make it so hard? Adonis is working on
my neck and going on and on about his beautiful wife while I absentmindedly
count the holes in the ceiling tiles.
Day 7- He insists one of my legs is shorter than the other and tries to remedy it in one session. My argument is it took 40 years to get that way and we should allow 40 years for it to reverse itself. He wins and pulls my leg out of its socket, ignoring my screams by jamming a pillow over my head.
Day 8- Today Adonis Adolph Hitler marches in to a staccato trot, salutes and asks if Iíve been doing my home exercises faithfully. I cross my fingers, eyes and toes and tell him ďyes.Ē If I admit otherwise, heíll pull my other leg off.
Day 9 - He stands behind my pillowed head and forces my neck into a 45-degree angle then waits for my spine to snap in two. When it doesnít, he places his foot against the wall be-hind him and tries to remove my head from my body. Failing this, he forces his thumbs below my cranium to shut off all circulation to render me unconscious. Permanently.
Day 10 - Insisting that my spine is out of whack, he places his full weight across my pathetic, prone body and tries to break my back and reset it without anesthesia. When he asks if it hurts and receives no response
from me because Iím dead, he declares the session over and goes home.
Day 11 Ė Adolph Hitler bends and twists my knees Ďtil they swell like beach balls with dimples,then demands that I do deep-knee bends. I do half a bend and faint. He resuscitates me with a whack on the head and insists I touch my toes. I canít even touch my hips so he lectures me sternly on "Physical Fitness For Fat, Frail
Females Over Forty." I close my eyes and dream of him impaled on his golf club.
Day 12 - My last day! He gives me a
gentle massage, enters data on his computer stating I am 100 percent improved and fit as the proverbial fiddle. We part amicably, smile, shake hands, and I limp my way to the parking lot where I gleefully pour a
pound of carpet tacks behind each of his tires.
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