Rella and I are blogging about the same thing today.
In approximately five or so more weeks, Mr. Cutie P.T. is leaving me. He had to go and do something silly like find a better-paying, more supportive job at another fitness center. (I mean, the nerve! What’s up with that?!?)
Yes, I know you’re thinking, “well, why don’t you just follow him there?” And I would if I could, except the other place will cost probably twice as much — and as we all know, I just can’t bloody well afford that.
And I’m sure others of you out there are thinking, “what’s the big deal? It’s just a personal trainer. You can find another.” Sure. I suppose I could, but the question there is, do I really want to?
He’s not just a personal trainer. This man has helped me change my life around 180 degrees since April. Made me finally feel really good about myself again. Helped me gain back a lot of self-confidence and self-esteem that I thought was lost forever after the marriage from hell. Made me feel like I am worth it. Helped make me want to start really living life once more.
He helped make me like being me again.
And for that alone, there’s no fucking way he’s just a personal trainer.
(Besides, I couldn’t write a book about someone who’s just a p.t., now could I? )
You know what the worst part of it all is? I’m already a mess about this. How am I going to say goodbye when December rolls around?