Oh how I hate Jillian Michaels right now. And week 2 of her torture. I just had to give myself a pep talk to get off the floor. It hurts to hold my arms up high enough to type this. Parts of me hurt that I didn't even know I had. Sigh. That whole cool down thing? Psh. Screw that. I laid on my mat and sweated until the terrible music came back on. Oh how I long to have my high school metabolism. Not to mention that figure (insert whistle). Oh how sorry I am that I didn't treasure and flaunt that body more while I had it!!!!
In conclusion, if I can't wear my new [more than a little inappropriate] bathing suit by the end of this 30 days, I am going to be mad, mad, MAD. I might have to seek her out, though I would have to run her over with my car. For sure I won't be able to use this mangled body to do anything useful.
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