The Terminator is supposed to be some miracle working, personal trainer that everyone is raving about. I got his number from Bunnylicious newly buff hubby, who warned me that the guy was brutal. He apparently costs 50K a month…There goes my monthly ice cream budget( It’s not my fault I have expensive tastes in dairy products). Anyway I figure it would be worth giving up Hagen-Daz Tuesdays, Wednesday and Saturday’s for a new slinky body. So all fired up, I call the Terminator to book my first appointment.
Damn! It’s an answering machine.
“This is the Terminator. Having problems with your weight? Constant battles with food? Can’t motivate yourself to exercise?
Wow, this guy reading our mind Brain and he sounds sexy too. American drawl, not the razzo I was expecting.
Well calling me was the right thing to do because you’re obviously a LAZY, FAT BASTARD! …
Ah ah! Wetin happen? Na fight?
GET UP SLACKER! ITS TIME TO FEEL THE BURN! YOU WILL NOT BE A ROLLING TUB OF LARD IN LAS GIDI ON MY WATCH…
Mena hang up. I’m scared.
I’m scared too Brain. Why is he shouting at his potential customers?
… FAT IS YOUR ENEAMY AND WE MUST ANNIHILATE THE ENEAMY. GIVE YOURSELF OVER TO THE TERMINATOR AND I WILL MOULD YOU INTO A LEAN, MEAN, FAT KILLING MACHINE. Now leave your name and number and I’ll call you back. Till then, say it with me …FAT IS THE ENEMY! WE MUST ANNIHILATE THE ENEMY!
God forbid. I ain’t leaving my details with him.
That’s right Mena. Don’t do it. He sounds like Genghis Khan on skunk. We’ll go back on our groundnut diet and everything will be cool.
You’re right Brain.
Err.. sorry Terminator wrong number.
Phew that was a close one. Come on Brain lets go finish off the tub of ice-cream in the freezer to celebrate what could have been a disastrous venture.
5 minutes later I’m snuggled up in bed with my tub of milky love about to watch Top Chef and …
Darn it! Who’s calling me now?
“This the Terminator. You rang” says a deep, masculine voice
Darn caller id. Its OK. We can wiggle out of this.
“Really?! Sorry must have dialed the wrong number.” I say
“Don’t lie to me lady and put down the food.” he responds
Jesus! I said looking around to make sure he hadn’t magically appeared in bed with me.
“How did you know I was eating?” I asked
“I’m the Terminator. I know everything. Now give me your address and be ready and waiting for me at 6am tomorrow morning. Wear nothing but tight Lycra leggings, a sports bra and vest.”
Warrup joker? You put jazz for mouth?
“But I don’t want you to come to my house at 6am and more importantly, I don’t do Lycra.”
“You don’t know what you want Lady.”
“I don’t?” I ask puzzled.
“No you don’t. You want a strong man to mould you into the woman you were meant to be, don’t you.”
“Moulding? Hmmm…Would that involve the strong man touching the aforementioned woman?
Mena resist. He’s using some kind of mind mumbo jumbo on us.
Now, now Brain. Let’s not be hasty. Let’s hear what our friendly neighborhood personal trainer has to say first.
“Don’t worry its all one on one contact. This journey is going to be about developing a trusting and fulfilling relationship between me and you in order to reach our ultimate goal.” He says sexily down the phone.
Yepa! It’s kinda hot in here o; abi nah sessy American drawl dey do me? I don’t know about you Brain but this is probably the only one on one relationship I’m having with a man anytime soon, so sign me up to be Terminated. And before you can say "Arnold Schwarzenegger" I’m reeling off my address and agreeing to tight Lycra.
Now, where the hell am I supposed to find a tight Lycra gym bunny outfit at 10pm at night?
I’ll have to see if my mother has something lurking around in her winter holiday wardrobe.
“Muuuummmmmmy” I whine as I drag myself into her room and flop on the bed.
“What do you want?” she snaps.
Charming as ever.
“Do you have a pair of lycra leggings?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes” she says getting off of the bed and throwing open one of her wardrobes to reveal a shelf of multicolored Lycra heaven.
“Mummy why do you have so many pairs of leggings?!” I exclaim
“Your father likes us to have Disco Fever Night every once in a while.”
Ask a stupid question… Of course that’s what they’re for.
Crazy woman. If she thinks I’m going to give her the opportunity to traumatize me by asking what Disco Fever Night is; she’s got another thing coming. Not interested.
“I just need a black pair mum.”
“What for? You do know it will be tight for you don’t you?” She says giving me a ‘Respect yourself’ look.
“Yeah I know but my trainer says he wants tight.”
“Trainer? Really? That’s interesting. Been thinking about getting myself one “she says proceeding to do some star jumps.
Agbaya. Showing off to her own daughter.
“Maybe we should share?”
Share wetin? Nooooo! Everybody should go and look for their own trainer. Only agreeing to cough up 50K because of the ‘One on One’ moulding sessions. This woman now wants to come and spoil my show.
“I don’t think you could handle the pace mum. Its going to be pretty intense and no offence but you ain't no spring chicken.”
‘Owww!!! Mum you promised no violence in the New Year. You swore on the Bible now!”
“Me I can’t handle the pace en? You that you need oxygen every time you climb up the stairs are telling me; All star track champion 4 years in a row at Queen Amina of Zaria school for young ladies, Ilorin; that I cant handle the pace?”
Wo’eva. That was like 100 years ago woman. I beg lets hear word.
“We shall see!” she says dropping to the floor to do one arm push ups.
What the…! Darn this woman is freaky strong. No wonder her slaps hurt so much.
Definitely keeping her away from Terminator so she doesn’t upstage me.