People had warned her about the “Trainer’s Curse” – how many young, impressionable skaters ended up falling in love with their trainers. And she had come close. Spending every waking hour with him, relying on him to achieve the goal that defined her existence; she needed him, she wanted him. But she knew, deep down, that it was not love; it was an addiction.
Go said the trainer shoe the how to play the game we ca win this easily. Every man must keep at it I insist on all forms of concentration being open ~ We will knock spots off of the opposition an literally show them how to play. We are th champions
Kiss your life goodbye, right? It’s what you do when you’re this dedicated. Blue tape wraps around your back from the chiropractor. You wear it as a badge of pride – a symbol of your strength. Sweat glistens on your arms as you push up.
“One! Two! Twist!” the perky lady shouted into the mirror, watching us behind her like a hawk. It was intimidating how she’d catch our eye in the reflection. Awkward, uncomfortable. I was completely ready to finish the session.
Every time I call him, he comes
Running to my side, tail wagging in blissful ignorance
He doesn’t know why he get the treats
And I wonder who’s really being trained
I had to be the very best, like no one ever was.
The line from an old game that I used to play back when I was small struck me, the memory of pretending to be a pokemon trainer whilst hanging on to a gameboy.
However was oak said, GARY this is not the time nor place for that
i think i forget that television isn’t real too much for it to be healthy
it seems so easy
falling in love because you’re always surrounded by good looking people
yet there is always too much drama
too much moments where i’m left screaming
what are you doing that’s stupid
and the characters still go on doing stuff
because it’s not real
however much i want it to be
and this has nothing to do with trainers unless you can count tv as the trainers i pull on to run away from reality
Once there was a trainer. And it had very flashy shoelaces and nobody wanted to go near it because it had such flashy shoelaces. He got himself a pair of plain shoelaces and he was worn at last. The trainer was now happy.
trainers are the people who help you when you go to the gym to achieve your goals. there’s nobody just like a trainer. they help you with stuff you wouldn’t know of because they’ve studied all the cases surrounding your body. it’s a beautiful thing and I respect them greatly because they’ve got to put up with old fanny granny’s and young jail baits whilst maintaining focus on their work. respect.
Who will train the trainerÉ In this life if we are not learning and growing we are dying so I will step up to the plate and share some of my wisdom with my trainer because sometimes the student can teach the teacher.In fact it happens more often than we think!
The trainer left the room to quickly check his mobile. Girl trouble? they all wondered. But there was enough trouble brewing in the room and the trainer and his doomed love life did not hold their interest them for too long.
Everyday my father would drill me.
make me do laps of the house, make me run up and down the road. Exert me until I could hardly stand then he’d call it a day.
He was my own personal trainer.
He was also a douchebag.
He didn’t care about me, just about my progress. He wasn’t a father. He was a coach. A slave driver. He was so proud when I won but I got beating when I was second.
I hate my father.
I hate my trainer.
I always will.
A human trainer
Our parents
Our teachers
They whip us into submission
So we know
We damn well know
Who the real masters are
Deep down
We still can feel
That it is us
But how
How can that be in these chains
He was the first trainer I got.
Everyone called him Five. Apparently, he was the brother of a trainer that was here a year ago.
“Get in line,” he growled, and all of us scrambled against the wall. There were around 10 initiates this year, and I was the only one from Amity.
“Looks like you could use a trainer,” Vanessa commented to the man in the corner, struggling to lift a twenty-pound dumbbell.
“Screw off,” the man grumbled, his scrawny arm visibly shaking as he tried to lift the weight. Vanessa reached over and took it away from him.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed. I once didn’t have biceps, either.” She readjusted the sleeves of her gym shirt and beckoned him to a set of dumbbells. “C’mon. I’ll start you off easy.”
CRACK! Again, he could feel his knees go weak and his eyes blur with pain. This strike had landed square between his shoulderblades. “AGAIN!” The sensei yelled. With a sigh, he moved back into the right stance.
the trainer decided to take the long way to work. he was wearing his brand new trainers and on his way to train some gorillas. he worked as a trainer for the local zoo. the animals there were super dumb and he thought they could use some prefessional help. they were so problematic that the zoo had to hire out a trainer. that was him.
“I don’t need to go to the gym. I’m naturally thin.”
“Well good. I wouldn’t want some muscly trainer eyeing you up.”
“I… what?”
“You know, because people would totally stare at you. And that’s bad.”
“You do know that I’m a rail thin twenty year old man, right?”
“Don’t mean they won’t stare.”
the trainer found a fat woman outside the gym. he asked if she would like to lose some wieght. he was feeling nice that morning on account of his smoothie with extra kale in it that didnt make him throw up like usual. the woman said that she was really fine, but he insisted. she said she was conent with her wieight and he should be with his. he told her she couldnt say thinks like that. sh couldnt go spreading body positivity around like it was a disease. afterall his whole line of work depended on people hating themselves.
Her personal trainer kept yammering on about her calorie intake. So what if she wanted a whole cake everyone now and then? She was the one here with three kids under ten, she’d handle stress however she damn well pleased.
on screen is a lot of flesh and a bundle of it is behind a cage.
I take out my frustration on the phallic masculine economy on this thing. I admit to enjoying it when he squirms. No where else have I felt so big and tall.
From now on he will call me queen and i see two hands wave twice before the cameras shut off.
I’ve vaguely wondered what it’d be like to be a personal trainer. Helping people achieve their best both physically and, in some ways, mentally seems like it could be rewarding work. Still, it must be difficult, always being upbeat and motivational.
“And you, sir? What is your place here?” she asked, turning her attention to the elder gentleman. In her opinion, he seemed too old for a horse hand, but perhaps his years spoke of experience?
“I am the Royal Trainer; Timen Jeranous,”
“I have heard the name,” she said, inclining her head, “It is well known, even to my people,”
“You honor me, your highness,” he said with a short bow.
gains are made
through hard work and toil
grist of tarnished oil
sanded down to the bare work
worked into and polished
a guiding hand to lead
to the promise always there
it was like she was our teacher, our trainer. she taught us how to be and how to act and what to do, and everyone seems to forget that everyone seems to think it was amy. it was amy who took the lead, amy who took the reigns, amy who made all the plans – but it wasn’t amy it was temperance. it was always temperance
She trains; it’s what she does. Push yourself to the breaking point and then start over, right? Her muscles whine as she presses onward. Faster, further. Until you forget. Until the pain replaces everything else.
She pedaled down the road, Pokemon safely tucked away in their balls at her waist. She was a trainer- a Pokemon trainer. It was her life, her everything. She panicked if her Pokemon got seriously hurt. Probably a little too much, but no one every really commented. She simply… was.
She hadn’t been to the gym in years. Running by the lake on Caprica City had been her thing, free from the confines of gray gym walls and the stares of fellow gym goers who wanted to see the Secratary of Education sweat. So when Cottle suggested exercise as a way to recover, she was at a loss.
Until, unbidden, the image of Bill soaked with sweat, bouncing around the boxing ring came to mind. She smiled, picked up the phone, and asked to be connected to the Admiral.
He stares straight at the beast. He doesn’t waver. He cannot. He is not fearful or cocky. He stares unblinking as the creature rears it’s head and dances around him. It’s giant lizard head breathing fire.
I see a dog in front of me. He is not trained well. His name is Kermit. I have a trainer. His name is International. He would like to help me grow up. I need to see the dentist and all I can do is think about eating cookies.
i am the trainer of how to stop being an annoying dree. it doesn’t work very well because the actual dree is still being an annoying dree, but i suppose that makes sense because i mean it’s the original OG dree. oh my god is there any possible way to fix this thing i mean it’s so broken it’s like a teddy bear you got from one of your relatives that was already like a hand-me-down and you just never connected fully to it but ur like maybe if i fix it up???? idk too lazy.
People had warned her about the “Trainer’s Curse” – how many young, impressionable skaters ended up falling in love with their trainers. And she had come close. Spending every waking hour with him, relying on him to achieve the goal that defined her existence; she needed him, she wanted him. But she knew, deep down, that it was not love; it was an addiction.
“Don’tstop!” yelled my personal trainer to me. My arms and legs hurt from doing so many pushups and jumping jacks.
Personal trainer fantasies… a gay can dream, can’t he?
i never had a trainer it must be because im to good!!!!!!!!
Go said the trainer shoe the how to play the game we ca win this easily. Every man must keep at it I insist on all forms of concentration being open ~ We will knock spots off of the opposition an literally show them how to play. We are th champions
Kiss your life goodbye, right? It’s what you do when you’re this dedicated. Blue tape wraps around your back from the chiropractor. You wear it as a badge of pride – a symbol of your strength. Sweat glistens on your arms as you push up.
i hate trainers.why do this.
“One! Two! Twist!” the perky lady shouted into the mirror, watching us behind her like a hawk. It was intimidating how she’d catch our eye in the reflection. Awkward, uncomfortable. I was completely ready to finish the session.
Every time I call him, he comes
Running to my side, tail wagging in blissful ignorance
He doesn’t know why he get the treats
And I wonder who’s really being trained
I had to be the very best, like no one ever was.
The line from an old game that I used to play back when I was small struck me, the memory of pretending to be a pokemon trainer whilst hanging on to a gameboy.
However was oak said, GARY this is not the time nor place for that
i think i forget that television isn’t real too much for it to be healthy
it seems so easy
falling in love because you’re always surrounded by good looking people
yet there is always too much drama
too much moments where i’m left screaming
what are you doing that’s stupid
and the characters still go on doing stuff
because it’s not real
however much i want it to be
and this has nothing to do with trainers unless you can count tv as the trainers i pull on to run away from reality
Once there was a trainer. And it had very flashy shoelaces and nobody wanted to go near it because it had such flashy shoelaces. He got himself a pair of plain shoelaces and he was worn at last. The trainer was now happy.
trainers are the people who help you when you go to the gym to achieve your goals. there’s nobody just like a trainer. they help you with stuff you wouldn’t know of because they’ve studied all the cases surrounding your body. it’s a beautiful thing and I respect them greatly because they’ve got to put up with old fanny granny’s and young jail baits whilst maintaining focus on their work. respect.
Who will train the trainerÉ In this life if we are not learning and growing we are dying so I will step up to the plate and share some of my wisdom with my trainer because sometimes the student can teach the teacher.In fact it happens more often than we think!
The trainer left the room to quickly check his mobile. Girl trouble? they all wondered. But there was enough trouble brewing in the room and the trainer and his doomed love life did not hold their interest them for too long.
Everyday my father would drill me.
make me do laps of the house, make me run up and down the road. Exert me until I could hardly stand then he’d call it a day.
He was my own personal trainer.
He was also a douchebag.
He didn’t care about me, just about my progress. He wasn’t a father. He was a coach. A slave driver. He was so proud when I won but I got beating when I was second.
I hate my father.
I hate my trainer.
I always will.
A human trainer
Our parents
Our teachers
They whip us into submission
So we know
We damn well know
Who the real masters are
Deep down
We still can feel
That it is us
But how
How can that be in these chains
Honestly, nothing inspirational comes to my mind from the word ‘trainer’.
He was the first trainer I got.
Everyone called him Five. Apparently, he was the brother of a trainer that was here a year ago.
“Get in line,” he growled, and all of us scrambled against the wall. There were around 10 initiates this year, and I was the only one from Amity.
“Looks like you could use a trainer,” Vanessa commented to the man in the corner, struggling to lift a twenty-pound dumbbell.
“Screw off,” the man grumbled, his scrawny arm visibly shaking as he tried to lift the weight. Vanessa reached over and took it away from him.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed. I once didn’t have biceps, either.” She readjusted the sleeves of her gym shirt and beckoned him to a set of dumbbells. “C’mon. I’ll start you off easy.”
CRACK! Again, he could feel his knees go weak and his eyes blur with pain. This strike had landed square between his shoulderblades. “AGAIN!” The sensei yelled. With a sigh, he moved back into the right stance.
the trainer decided to take the long way to work. he was wearing his brand new trainers and on his way to train some gorillas. he worked as a trainer for the local zoo. the animals there were super dumb and he thought they could use some prefessional help. they were so problematic that the zoo had to hire out a trainer. that was him.
“I don’t need to go to the gym. I’m naturally thin.”
“Well good. I wouldn’t want some muscly trainer eyeing you up.”
“I… what?”
“You know, because people would totally stare at you. And that’s bad.”
“You do know that I’m a rail thin twenty year old man, right?”
“Don’t mean they won’t stare.”
the trainer found a fat woman outside the gym. he asked if she would like to lose some wieght. he was feeling nice that morning on account of his smoothie with extra kale in it that didnt make him throw up like usual. the woman said that she was really fine, but he insisted. she said she was conent with her wieight and he should be with his. he told her she couldnt say thinks like that. sh couldnt go spreading body positivity around like it was a disease. afterall his whole line of work depended on people hating themselves.
Her personal trainer kept yammering on about her calorie intake. So what if she wanted a whole cake everyone now and then? She was the one here with three kids under ten, she’d handle stress however she damn well pleased.
the phone rings and i press green.
on screen is a lot of flesh and a bundle of it is behind a cage.
I take out my frustration on the phallic masculine economy on this thing. I admit to enjoying it when he squirms. No where else have I felt so big and tall.
From now on he will call me queen and i see two hands wave twice before the cameras shut off.
I’ve vaguely wondered what it’d be like to be a personal trainer. Helping people achieve their best both physically and, in some ways, mentally seems like it could be rewarding work. Still, it must be difficult, always being upbeat and motivational.
I wish so badly to be a Londoner. I’d prance around in my fit trainers and be classy, drinking champagne and tea. Pip Pip! Cheerio Ol’ Chap!
i’m using this site to train me to write flash fiction. i don’t think this piece will count. it must be hard to be stein.
“And you, sir? What is your place here?” she asked, turning her attention to the elder gentleman. In her opinion, he seemed too old for a horse hand, but perhaps his years spoke of experience?
“I am the Royal Trainer; Timen Jeranous,”
“I have heard the name,” she said, inclining her head, “It is well known, even to my people,”
“You honor me, your highness,” he said with a short bow.
gains are made
through hard work and toil
grist of tarnished oil
sanded down to the bare work
worked into and polished
a guiding hand to lead
to the promise always there
it was like she was our teacher, our trainer. she taught us how to be and how to act and what to do, and everyone seems to forget that everyone seems to think it was amy. it was amy who took the lead, amy who took the reigns, amy who made all the plans – but it wasn’t amy it was temperance. it was always temperance
She trains; it’s what she does. Push yourself to the breaking point and then start over, right? Her muscles whine as she presses onward. Faster, further. Until you forget. Until the pain replaces everything else.
“Sit and wait,”
and she will.
Exercise teach learn work accomplishments worthwhile committed
She pedaled down the road, Pokemon safely tucked away in their balls at her waist. She was a trainer- a Pokemon trainer. It was her life, her everything. She panicked if her Pokemon got seriously hurt. Probably a little too much, but no one every really commented. She simply… was.
She hadn’t been to the gym in years. Running by the lake on Caprica City had been her thing, free from the confines of gray gym walls and the stares of fellow gym goers who wanted to see the Secratary of Education sweat. So when Cottle suggested exercise as a way to recover, she was at a loss.
Until, unbidden, the image of Bill soaked with sweat, bouncing around the boxing ring came to mind. She smiled, picked up the phone, and asked to be connected to the Admiral.
He stares straight at the beast. He doesn’t waver. He cannot. He is not fearful or cocky. He stares unblinking as the creature rears it’s head and dances around him. It’s giant lizard head breathing fire.
I see a dog in front of me. He is not trained well. His name is Kermit. I have a trainer. His name is International. He would like to help me grow up. I need to see the dentist and all I can do is think about eating cookies.
i am the trainer of how to stop being an annoying dree. it doesn’t work very well because the actual dree is still being an annoying dree, but i suppose that makes sense because i mean it’s the original OG dree. oh my god is there any possible way to fix this thing i mean it’s so broken it’s like a teddy bear you got from one of your relatives that was already like a hand-me-down and you just never connected fully to it but ur like maybe if i fix it up???? idk too lazy.