Lacy

My workouts with Lacy have been fun from the beginning. Maybe not so much fun for her, but fun for me. She has called me names, given me dirty looks, and even threatened to make a voo doo doll in my likeness. Here is a sample of our conversations the first week-

Lacy – “I hate you. You and your skinny ass. It feels wonderful to be able to tell you that, since I would have to be nice to a trainer I paid. You, I can tell you I hate you for free. Doesn’t that make you feel better?”

Me – “No, not really. No.”

In the coming weeks she adjusted to the workouts (but supposedly whimpered in her sleep), and her body was ready for the next level. Our conversations were more like this-

Lacy – “I’m not wanting to look like Jean Claude Van Damme in two weeks here! Let’s ease into it!”

Me – “It’s just some push ups”

Lacy – “I think you are trying to kill me.”

Every weekend we go for a two hour walk. We pick different neighborhoods, and discuss all of the different houses. We are usually very nice. We do periodically make the comment that the owners of certain houses need to make a run to the shit store to pick up more shit since they obviously don’t have enough shit in their yards. We are masters are sarcasm when we get together.

Our topic of conversation this weekend was a new show on HGTV called Houseboat Hunters. For a good 30 minutes we discussed that fact that one of the houseboats had an incinerator toilet in that bathroom which the real estate agent said “might” create an odor. Really? We decided that there was a damn good possibility that BURNING SHIT would cause an odor. We are not rocket scientists, but we do know a thing or two.

If you ever see two women walking/running while flailing their arms and stopping occasionally to almost curl up in a ball, its ok. We are not in pain, but we are laughing hysterically.

Speaking of scents and smells, one morning I sprayed on a little perfume before heading out the door at 5:00am. I have worn the same rose scented perfume since age 12 and will continue to do so until the day I die. I’m not one for sudden change. This is the conversation that followed---

Lacy – “You smell like my Grandmother.”

Me – “Was your grandmother a dirty whore? I sincerely hope not.”


Thank you for reading, and I hope you feel a little better about yourself.