Okay, so picture it. It's Thursday morning and I'm working with my trainer and we just finished a workout. I'm exhausted and can't believe I made it through this experience alive. I long for the brief moments I can spend on the floor stretching and recovering because at least I'm not doing hideous dumbbell reps or push ups or sit ups with a medicine ball. Actually, one of the best things about the stretching part of my sessions is that my trainer helps me and I get a much better stretch than I could on my own. However, the benefits go right out the window when I come to a stunning realization while he lifts my leg up and pushes it forward for a hamstring stretch. My pant leg starts to drop and I realize that I haven't shaved my legs for a few days and as he moves forward, as if in slow motion, my leg grazes his cheek. I swear, I could have drawn blood with those sandpaper legs. So, I wanted to die a little bit because neither one of us said anything, but we both knew the horrible truth. You better believe that my next session will feature me with the smoothest legs you've ever seen! Now, in case any of you are jumping to any conclusions, there could be nothing even close to attraction between myself and this trainer. In fact, that idea would be more horrific than the scene I just described. The fact is that this would have been embarrassing no matter who was playing the role of my trainer. Just another day in the life of yours truly.