Naked truth

Eating better and working out is going OK, but I realized I have a new fitness goal: to look as good naked as I do dressed. I look adorable today… or at least I will until I go home and take off my pretty wrapping. Then the illusion is shattered when everything on me goes “flump.”

I don’t even know if my body is capable of being toned — I’ve been thinner, but still looked like I was covered in vanilla pudding when naked. My shoulders and clavicle are bony as fuck, yet I have a gut like Nacho Libre — where does that get logical? This is how I know I was not intelligently designed — only a system that gave us the duck-billed platypus could also provide this particular assemblage. The good Lord woulda had His shit together.

Maybe there’s a spa treatment that can just slough off all my skin so I can start over.

(I’ll have none of your logic about patience and perseverance and inner beauty. FEH! I want to look like Ashley Graham tomorrow. Make it so.)

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