Crazy Train(er)
This young firecracker pictured here is my trainer at Bally's, Kay Yasin. I'm not trying to turn my blog into a Maxim column here. Rather, I need you to have a visual of something . . . the kind of glamour photos she wants ME to get!
That's right! Halter top, stretchy pants, a come-hither pose. Me!!!
She says I should get professional pictures done to capture all of the hard work I've put in the last 6 months, something I can look back on in 10 years and be proud of. Why? Does she plan on not training me 10 years from now? Is she dumping me?
I hope not. I'll get like Marky Mark in "Fear." I'll show up outside her house at two in the morning with a jump rope and a Bosu ball!
Nah, she'd never be able break up with me. We have a training marriage made in nut-ball heaven. She's the only person I know in the world who's more neurotic about her workouts than me.
I wouldn't have it any other way. Six months ago, she got me down from 187 pounds, to my sophomore year of college weight of 165 (which we soon discovered what not an appropriate weight for Pat Tomasulo at his current age). SO, we bulked up to a comfortable fighting weight of 173, and now I am an ultimate fitness machine.
Anyway, I told her for me to even ENTERTAIN the idea of having pictures taken, she'd need to let me publish hers to my web masses (hence the pic).
Now while I've never had professional pictures taken, I have had snapshots of my progress taken.
