Backstroke at 5:30am can produce some twisted visions… Monday I was doing a dolphin kick set that was giving my stomach fat a go “how’s your father.” All of a sudden I realized my physical make-up stores most of my extra lard in the mid-section. If I could every get my body to disperse it around my body a bit more evenly, then I might not look like an Idaho potato with #3 lead pencils for legs and pipe cleaner arms. Those freaking fat cells are cowards of Jarvis County (note the obscure Kenny Rogers inspiration you country fans)
My fat cells are nothing but thugs. Their always waiting until I go to sleep to gang up on my operation - then they retreat every morning all Lost Boys style. You slobs wouldn’t have a ribs chance in Memphis one on one with me… But no, they reek havoc on my inter city highway system; spray painting the arteries with stank plaque. Word is they are even planning a Thanksgiving offensive on my double chin; looking to recruit additional cells after the beat down I’ve put on their safe haven these past few months. Who are these fat cells… the freaking Taliban?!?!
You are reading this correct; I am currently picking a fight with the squaters in my belly. I ain’t got shame in my game!
…to be continued
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