Barbara Streisand and me at the gym

Last night I eventually succumbed to going to a personal trainer. The overeager sales rep who was bursting to get my John Hancock on the dotted line recommended this guy. I enquired whether there were any women trainers as I feel more comfortable with them. Apparently there are no women trainers. Hmm this made me feel slightly suspicious. I looked around the place and it is predominantly dominated by big, buff over-muscled men who are probably on steriods and have tiny dicks. Maybe they harassed all the women till they left.

Anyway all of the trainers have those cheesy pics up on the wall, you know the ones, with their arms crossed and their biceps bulging. I chose the oldest guy with grey hair, less chance of him being a dodgy perve. He eventually phones me about 5 days later, talk about great service, and we arrange a time to meet up. So I meet up with him last night and he frogmarches me to the treadmill. 'What do you want to work on?' he asks abruptly. 'Um I thought that's what you were supposed to tell me?' I enquire. Great start, he is clearly lacking in professionalism and service. I tell him the obvious: 'I want to focus on overall weight loss and toning of arms etc.' He then minces to the floor mat where he says 'I work very quickly, you know' and then proceeds to make me do pelvic thrusts on a pilates ball in front of about 10 men. I almost died. I used to train out at Virgin in London, at least they have a women only section. Pity Planet Fitness sucks.

So while I am panting and pelvic thrusting, he is checking out the breakdancers spinning on their heads next to me. (I kid you not). He then makes me do so many exercises with dumbbells I almost expire. We then move onto the weight machines which he says aren't effective but he makes me do them anyway. I'm struggling to lift the weights, (please bear in mind that I haven't exercised in 3 months) and he exclaims: 'Are you serious? You can't lift this? You are like soo weak..' I retort 'Um that is quite rude' meanwhile I'm raging inside....'Shut the fuck up you mothertrucker, I am your client, just zip it and nip it.' Ok so now he is seriously hacking me off. Oh and he is also speaking in a fake french accent and keeps on saying 'D'accord?' in his high pitched voice and when I try to respond in french, he looks at me blankly. GRRR. Last but not least, he asks me whether anyone has ever told me I look like Barbara Streisand? At this I snapped 'No because that's the biggest insult I have ever heard.' Ok that is apart from when a random dude told me I looked like Fred Durst from Limp Biskit. But I think this was his inadvertent, reverse pyschology way of getting into my pants.

So horrible trainer was like 'But I think Barbara's beautiful.' Seriously I have never been so enraged. So now I'm paranoid that I need a nose job but oh god, I've just had a boob job. If I'm not careful I might end up looking like Heidi Montag that has-been from 'The Hills.'

Needless to say, I refuse to go back to him, the bitch.

I mean, Barbara and I may both be performers - but that's where the similarity ends.