I’m in trouble.

I told my trainer last week that I had that monthly curse thing going on because what I really had was Thai food [that would be chicken with basil, extra spicy] from the night before bubbling in my stomach and performing hyperextensions with twenty two pound weights was an accident waiting to happen. I felt we needed to wrap up the last set asap instead of executing to failure. He was standing behind me and holding my legs and there was just no way I was going to allow myself to unleash a toxic fog of epic proportions in his direction. The horror! If I had told him the truth he would have said, “It’s ok, let’s continue,” but it is NOT ok, DIScontinue and let’s move on to the next episode! S’il vous plait, monsieur!

Now I’m achy and horny and hungry and bitchy and bloated and suicidal but too lazy to off myself and I just polished off half a loaf of Panera’s cinnamon raisin swirl bread and am contemplating my vibrator on the floor. But I’m too lazy for that, too. Damn you Old Man. Why aren’t you at my beck and call?

Tomorrow is the brutal squat and leg press day. You know, where I wear long black pants in case I piss myself which I do on occasion when I do these two movements. Let’s face it, pushing against 260 pounds of weight may look impressive to those standing from afar but up close it and personal it is ugly. Quite ugly. Especially when you feel your panties getting soaked with urine [at first I thought I had some sort of orgasm from all the pain] and you are thinking, Damn, can anyone else see that? which completely throws you off track and can make the difference between a good workout and a great one.

I’ve taken five days off from the gym. I thought I was under the weather but I realized on day three (ok, maybe it was day two) that I wasn’t as bad I was initially suspected. I can’t even use being sick as an excuse which leads me to my dilemma. There are only two ways to resolve this.

Either tell the truth or go in and take it like a man. Well, maybe three – I could say I got hit by a car and made a miraculous recovery the next time I roll in.

I will know at four a.m. That is when it prefers to rear its ugly head. I have never been able to figure out why it likes to disrupt my sleep, maybe my body has not been informed that I don’t LIVE IN EUROPE ANYMORE.

I suppose it’s always best to tell the truth, no matter how seemingly innocent the lie.