I hate you. I hate you and your 30 Day Shred.
You make my legs hurt. No, wait, you don't just make my legs hurt, you make me WISH FOR DEATH as a way to alleviate the pain.
I would like very much to take my foot and shove it up your ass, but I don't think I can lift it that high.
I also love you. I love you very much for proving to me how out of shape I was. But mostly I love you for proving to The Huz how out of shape HE was.
He's sticking to the system. Granted, we're only on day 3, but he's making plans to start working out with some of the guys at work. This is nothing short of a miracle. He claims he used to work out on the boat, when they were out to sea. But then again, what the hell else is there to do on a submarine when you're not working? Sleep? Read a book? Watch another movie? He did all those too. And he does them at home. But he does not workout at home.
Thank you, Jillian Michaels. As much as I hate you for making my day a living hell every time I have to walk up and down my stairs, I thank you for helping to make me and Jeremy healthier people.
Though, if I ever meet you, don't be surprised if I first try to kick your ass before I hug you. I'm sure, for you and your job, that kind of gratitude is par for the course.
Yours in great pain and wishing for death,
Or a shot of morphine,
Slave to the Mommy Trade