It's Crunch time!

I've been going to the gym more than the average person, you know free weights and cardio, yet my indulgent eating habit and my lethargic metabolism just formulates to bulge. Damn you french triple cream cheese! I curse you rice, pasta and potato! I beseech you, butter and all your alliances!

On Monday, I begin my strict workout and diet. My consumption plan will consist of strictly protein, fruits and vegetables. Plus to maintain my regularity, loads of water, aloe vera juice and multi-vitamins. Therefore, the unsightly existence of sugar, pasta, bread and rice and all associated evils will be condemned from my kitchen.

To assist in my insanity, besides the usual (criscross crunch, reverse combo crunch, limbo leg double crunch twist), I will combine hardcore cardio. Cardio is the savior that will resurrect these abs of steel. I know it's somewhere underneath all this jiggle and shake. It just needs a little excavating, that's all.

Sadly, it's taken a particular day to motivate me. I've gone many days careless of what others' think of my body. I've succumb to the fact that I'll never be able to wear midriffs again. I've also embraced that gravity is now my new arch nemesis. And I'm cool with it. Until, that meddling day. My wedding day. This wedding has transformed me into this insecure monstrosity of an individual. Me, the person that has accepted my love handles as special compartment features. Shellie, the person that accepted the fluctuation of her belly like the change of the ocean tides.

What happens after the wedding? Do I resume to stuffing my face with a heart bypass sandwich? Do I continue eating like a rabbit? Is there a medium? Can I maintain? These manic thoughts meander in my thunderdome of a mind.

Once, a stranger in a smoky bar butted into my conversation, and attempted to convince me that when pigs fly, is the day I quit smoking cigarettes. This nosy stranger was convinced that nicotine would conquer. Guess what? I quit smoking. Furthermore, with all the genetically toxic engineered food, I forecast that pigs will have wings in five years.

Lesson for today? It's okay to forecast the future, but you can never predict it and in the meantime bathe in the sunshine of the present, you loathy louse. This is Shellie from the equator of her zenith, I bid you namaste. Place the hands together at the heart chakra, close the eyes, and bow the head.