Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Resolutions


Ah, but it is yet the time of the resolution yet again, my pretties. Without looking at a calendar, I can tell the season is upon us…what with this 197 ‘Paleo’ pins, unreal 30 minute workouts boasting to get you looking like a Victoria Secret model in mere days, and let us not forget the noble plan of waking up at 5am to run a marathon before heading to the office. I get it. You all want to drop a few pounds around the middle so you look like Miley when you do your obligatory twerk on Friday nights at da club.

I truly believe that I have found the only fail-proof plan to look like a stud in the coming year. It is so easy, that anyone can do it. It actually works. And is completely feasible.

Marry a trainer.

I know, I know-you already have a husband. Or, you don’t know any trainers. Or you don’t want to get married. You know what I hear? Excuses. Do you want to be skinny or do you want to be happy? Because Lord knows those two things don’t go hand in hand. You’re either hungry enough to chew off your own grandma’s hand, or your jeans are cutting tiny seam-shaped lacerations across you muffin top.

Well suck it up, buttercup, because your recent string of pins tells me that in 2014 you want to look emaciated. Victory is only a marriage license away.

Boy wrote a pre-wedding workout that has been dubbed LGN ‘Look Good Naked’, a rally cry I use when I’m on the precipice of vomiting on the shoes of the bro who decided his desire for a job reference to get a position at my company was more important than my last 5 minutes of cardio. Will I what? Recommend you to our CFO? No. But I will regurgitate stomach acid, some Vitamin Water and the remnants of my kale salad on your Nike’s. You. Are. Welcome.

Let’s talk about how much I hate resolutions, regardless of the fact that in the future they will pay for an estimated 23% of my yearly income (you all know my stats are always completely factual).  Okay-so I happened to mumble mid-bite of my 19th chocolate chip that I wanted to get healthy in 2014. But the real question, fiancé, is WHY WERE YOU ACTUALLY LISTENING TO ME?! We all know that what is said in the sugar coma that is the Christmas holidays is akin to the garbage that comes out of my mouth after a bottle of wine. Nonsense.

Accountability. A four letter word of the worst variety.

You recommend I start the cleanse I was talking about? You think we should add more fish to our diet? Listening to the new Beyonce album doesn’t actually make me look like her?!

These are all the wonderful conversations you, too, could have with your trainer if you sucked it up and actually lived under the same roof as him.

I get it, you already ‘go to the gym’. You are ‘wildly self-motivated’. Your current man loves you ‘just the way you are’.

Let’s see who comes out on top in 2014.



Writer’s Note: I’m totally kidding. My fiancé does love me the way that I am. But seriously, I consider punching each and every one of you in the back of your thigh as you bound endlessly on the elliptical. Please stop being color coordinated at the gym. You aren’t fooling anyone. I see that back sweat.