Noodle

Met with a personal trainer for a first appointment today.

A very sweet young man.

Oh, gracious.

I just called a college student a sweet young man.

Nice.

Anyway, we went through how to use the equipment and how much experience I had had exercising. I thought briefly about lying through my teeth and telling him that I was in training for a triathlon or something.

Instead I told him about the two times I fell off the tread mill.

He showed me all the equipment and I tried each machine on it's lowest setting. Each time he asked,

"Izzat good? Can ya feel it?"

Why, yes. I could.

But I was very brave.

I feel a little like a noodle.

Except for my arms.

I can't feel them at all.

Next time I may just make the appointment with the janitor and a spatula.