This is Stacey. She’s my new personal trainer at Snap Fitness in Bend. She is nothing like the Malibu Stacey Lisa Simpson sparred with a few years back, but I like to think I am as cool as the Lisa Lionheart doll that Lisa created to be a smart, intelligent option for young girls to look up to. Of course, Malibu Stacey was a hit, and only one little girl bought Lisa Lionheart.

But that’s not the point. At least I don’t think so, but I’m not sure what my point is here.

So anyway, it turns out that in addition to being cute, my Stacey is smart and funny and in terrifically good shape. She has two little kids and knows about real life, and will help me get in shape for the long haul.

Plus she did not make me get on a scale, so I think we’ll be friends.

Also, she said I could still drink one shot of vodka a night, fine with her, no problem, as long as it was just one. And that if I was going to a party and wanted two drinks, I just couldn’t drink one the next night. And when I asked her if I could save all seven drinks for one night, she said sure, that was fine. I might die, but theoretically, it was fine

We might become best friends.

Also, she laughed at my lame jokes, the ones I told to try to distract her from forcing me to do horrible things like lunges:

I was hoping there’d be no lunges. Resistance was futile.

She also made me balance on this squishy ball thingy

which is much harder than it looks. Stacey’s quick as a wink with a steady hand, because she snapped this picture right before I fell off, and was nice enough not to take another shot of me crumpled up on the ground stifling bad words.

But since I was down there she made me do sit ups.

This is me sporting my new, totally fake smile, can you tell?

But the main reason I like Stacey is I know she worked hard to take the most flattering pictures of me possible, which is not easy, and I have some really bad ones to prove it, and she did not roll her eyes at me for being a tricky combination of chubby and vain.

She did not once say: “Maybe if you work out more, you’ll have a good reason to be vain, and maybe this song could be about you,” because she would not say such a mean thing. I don’t think she is vain, but she should be. If I were her, I would be.

If my Stacey had a string on her back like Malibu Stacey, she would probably say things like:

“Ten more seconds! Yes. I am looking at a real clock. Yes. It has a real second hand.”

She is a good sport, this Stacey person. And I spent most of yesterday forcing myself not to say “Bad Stacey!” every time I sat down. Or stood up. Or, you know, moved.

Plus, she friended me on Facebook, which means I can’t complain about her online. See, told you she was smart.