I utterly detest exercising. In fact, two years ago I made a pact with myself never to exercise again. No jogging, no Austrian hiking movements on the elliptical - NOTHING. I gained eight pounds in eight months. You see, fat is a La-Z-Boy rocker. It's comfortable. It's cushy. It warms you on a cold winter's night. It swishes around inside of you and makes you want to kick off your shoes and take a nap. It makes you LAZY. After a while, you don't want to move; just lie there in your fatty pants and watch your boobs become the size of beach balls. When you try to move, your fat calls for reinforcements to quash that rebellion. Headaches, tummy aches, dizziness. All intended to get you back on your ass in La-Z Boy hell.
Well, I'm happy to say, my fat army will be defeated. I see those little fighters shake and shiver every time I work out. Soon, they will surrender and I'll trade in my rocker for a sleek Lucite chair. May not be cushy, but it'll look hot.
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