Your Foot Up My A**
“I have a bone to pick with you, Henri,” I said to my husband, his smile turning to a weary grimace.
“What’d I do now?” he asked.
“No, the real question is, What did you say to my trainer?”
“Huh?”
“My trainer, Robin, who used to let me eat two Hershey kisses before running sprints? My nice trainer who said I could eat Quest potato chips when the Super Bowl was on so I wouldn’t feel left out? You sit next to him at the Arnold Amateur and suddenly now when I say, ‘I’m hungry,’ his response is, ‘Drink water or eat lettuce.’ That’s interesting, huh?”
Henri starts to laugh. “I just sort of mentioned your selective hearing problem.”
“My hearing problem?”
“That when he said you can have two Hershey kisses before sprints what you actually heard was, ‘Robin said I can eat as many Hershey kisses as I want.'”
“I want my chocolate. You messed that up for me. You’re going down.”
“You messed that up for yourself. You’re the one who wrote a book about your first hardass trainer. And you’re the one who gave it to Robin. Dummy!” he laughed. “He said that at first he couldn’t figure you out, but then after reading your book he had a better understanding of how to motivate you.”
Note to self: Anything you write in a memoir (or blog for that matter) can and will be used against you by your trainer at the gym.
“You said something more to him, I can tell.”
“I didn’t say anything! Well…just that you only respond well to tough coaches.” ”
“Do you know what he said to me when I came off stage? He said, ‘So you like someone with their foot up your ass. I get it now.'”
“You know how I’m supposed to weigh myself and send him the pic before each training session? Well, I’m done with my competition. It’s the off season, so I sent him a picture of my green beans and turkey instead. Guess what he texted? ‘Nice try, Slick. I have a scale here.'”
My arms are crossed and I’m boring holes into my husband with my stare. “You are not allowed to sit next to him at any other competitions. You can wave at him across the room.”
“What are you talking about? Robin’s my new drinking buddy. We’ll have a beer and you can drink spinach juice or something.”
“You better be nice to me, Henri, or I’ll blog about you.”
“You better be nice to me, Lisa, or I’ll text your trainer.”
Damn.
Lisa 
Lisa Traugott is a Mom’s Choice Award winning writer, fitness blogger, wife and mom of two.
If you’d like to know what it’s like to train for your first bodybuilding competition with a hardass trainer, check out my book, “She’s Losing It!” available at Amazon.com.
ShesLosingIt.com (c) 2015 Lisa Traugott. All rights reserved. No portion of this blog, including any text, photographs, video, and artwork, may be reproduced or copied without written permission.
You didn’t marry a stupid man! Lol
He’s very smart, as evidenced by the fact he married me, lol!
Hahaha! I’m totally using that line on my husband. Be nice or I’ll blog about you 😉
And he knows it’s true!
Lisa, If laughter is the best medicine, then I’ll NEVER get sick as long as i get a chance to read your blog! Having Robin as a trainer as well makes your experiences all the more real. I can identify with many of them. Robin’s the best – he helps us grow through kindness and encouragement as well as by being tough and holding us accountable. I know he’s truly helped you grow, and I’very VERY proud of your diligence!
Thanks, Viv. Training has really helped me keep my sanity. Sometimes I feel bad for Robin, lol
Please oh please let there be a 2nd book coming. I loved the first & am way sad that I finished it. 2nd trainer (foot & all) = 2nd book? Did I already say please oh please?
LOL! If you could just tell about a half million of your closest friends to buy my book, then sure!