So, you guys know for the last couple of weeks I’ve been my own version of “Clark Kent”…lawyer and legal analyst by day, until the clock strikes six or so, when I duck into a “phone booth” (aka, my office bathroom usually), spin my dress off, and emerge magically wearing spandex and a sports bra. Hands on hips, ponytail trailing behind me, i “fly” (aka drive my Audi) to “Gotham” (also known as Northstar Sports Training) where i fight crime (fat cells) as “Super Treadmill Girl”! …able to suck wind at a really big incline and really fast speed, ten-seconds at a time.
To chronicle my progress, I’ve taken a Day 1 photo, and a mid-way point photo of my abs, because this is a “transformation” process and I don’t wanna miss it, being I’m so close to the action and all. I compared my photos side by side and, well, the “transformation” wasn’t exactly jumping off the page. So I did what any “Super Treadmill Girl” would do, and I sheepishly forced my office manager to look at the pics and tell me what I wanted to hear (under an unspoken but very real threat that her continued employment depended on it). My office manager is the most honest and stand-up person I know, so imagine my SURPRISE when she said, “Um, I do see…is that a shadow or a birthmark? Oh, oh, wait! I do think I see something! Yes, yes, you DEFINITELY have a two-pack! Two-pack abs!”
WHAT? A TWO-pack? Unacceptable.
So I ripped the photos out of her hands and went to a MAN for an HONEST answer (proof that all the blood had obviously rushed from my head). He said he took my pictures and showed them to a cop when he got pulled over AND STILL GOT A TICKET!!! Needless to say, I am mortified, beside myself, mad, upset, whining and let’s not forget, EFFING STARVING! Harrumph. But I still have 8 sessions to go, so never say die, right?
Time to spin my dress off and emerge in spandex and a sports bra…no fat cell is safe tonight, people!!! (Insert stupid Batman fight sounds here)…