If any of you have actually read my profile (*hint: it's on the right side of this post, unless you're reading this on a feed than I can't really help you there) you will know that I have been exercising quite a bit recently. It all started early this year when I realized I had too much spare time on my hand and I looked down at my tummy and thought "Aren't you jutting out quite a bit all around?" After talking to my stomach about its increased physical volume, a sudden scenario flashed through my conscious of me in the near future and snooty relatives telling me I have let myself go while searching for a job. Once the thought passed, I apologized profusely to my stomach, for I knew it would soon have to endure much pain. However, I promised it that it could still digest whatever it wanted because I knew in the deepest recesses of my heart I could never give up any type of food let alone carbs.
Soon after, I contrived my own exercise routine that specifically targeted my abdominal area. I worked at it for a few months for 3-4 times a week about 20-30 minutes each day. Some of the moves looked something like this.
How I initially felt looked like this.
A few weeks into it, I felt more like this
Sadly, as things go the way they do, my love handles and muffin top stubbornly stayed mostly the same. I glared at it and gave it a good tongue lashing whenever I felt it made its presence known to the world by stretching a shirt and in doing so, emphasizing its rotund state. Despairing for a bit that I may have to indeed give up certain foods, I decided to embark on a journey to my sister's place and seek comfort (i.e. bitch-it-out). But lo and behold, guidance was found and a new regime tested to my utter pain but shockingly positive results.
To be continued tomorrow
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