I know what the Victoria Secret is. The secret is that nobody older than 35 can fit decently into their stuff unless they are surgically enhanced. I have been ape about walking and eating better, but I haven't really made a commitment to working out, before or after a 12 hour work day.  I am just lucky to have a job these days. I am into working out; it’s just that my philosophy is no pain, no pain. The only real exercise I have been getting lately is jumping to conclusions. I have no excuse. I have a full gym at work and at my apartment. Don’t get me wrong, I'm in shape; round is a shape. It’s just really weird, you hang something in your closet for a while and it shrinks almost two sizes.

A lifetime of dieting, starving and bingeing may have something to do with it. I need some inspiration.  It seems the hardest years of motivation for me have been those between the ages 6 and 39. What I need is a whip-cracker, some wicked tough-love boot to my ass! I've gotten soft and pathetic like over-ripe fermented fruit and I need a hard-line guru to oversee my impending physical transformation.  I need someone who will show up at my house at dawn and turn the hose on me if I am too lazy to wind sprint my way all around the neighborhood. Then follow me in a Jeep while I jog, licking my heels with a whip and barking directives that strike a delicate balance between abuse and inspiration.

While I prefer to pay for the services of a Greek warrior-type already in fighting form, I am open to trading services with another beer bellied sloth provided you are not some easily distracted, fly-by-night maker of life changing decisions. I am looking for commitment here. If you've got the boot, I've got the ass...

 

 

...Email me here, I would love to hear from you.

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