Yesterday, I joined a posh gym. They have scented shampoo in the showers and Q-Tips on the bathroom counters. Also, TVs on most of the cardio machines and small towels near the weight machines. One of the perks that comes with the joining of this posh gym is two personal training sessions, the first of which establishes your "fitness profile." I met my trainer yesterday, and he declared that he could make me stronger than any of the other girls (his word) training for the marathon.
I fear, however, that he is going to make me change my diet. Last night, for dinner, boyfriend cooked (heated up a frozen pizza and made a salad). Not just any frozen pizza, mind you, but one from Trader Joe's, their margherita pizza. They are delicious, I think, but not exactly diet food. So what will I have to do for lazy dinners? Make plain chicken breasts? Blech. We shall see. I am meeting with the Minister of Doom after work tonight.
In response to the possible diet change, I stopped at a favorite lunch place after the gym. Oasis Grill makes delicious gyros, falafel sandwiches, and something called the Mediterranean Melt. This involves chicken and mushrooms and gooey cheese wrapped up in a lavosh with vegetables. All these sandwiches are best spicy, which the guys behind the counter know. After you order, they ask, "Spicy?" Say yes, if you know what's best for you.
Please, buff trainer man, don't take away my Mediterranean Melt.