My body is empirically the same as it was before; yet, through the distorting lens of my perspective it looks rock-hard and unstoppably fuckable (as opposed to doughey and unstoppably unlovable). I have no idea why - it may be that I am anticipating my future marble-statue physique. I actually believe in the potential of my body to not look shitty anymore. I have been pouring over possible scenarios in the spring where I can take my shirt off. Most of what I decide to do in late-April and May will be based on the likelihood of being able to take my shirt off. I am going full-McConaughey. Costume parties, cottages, brawls: I am down. Weddings, BarMitvahs, Baby Showers, establishments with shirt policies: total waste of my time. If you are my friend, plan things accordingly.
I went solo again today. And I fuckin' killed it. Maybe this specific routine is fairly laid back or I am getting better, but I got through every exercise like I was in a 'Rocky' montage. I am buying a grey tracksuit tomorrow.
Highlights: Did not take a single unalotted water-break. I also did not remember that a blender works better with the top on.
State of Mind: I feel great - there was no hesitation today and I breezed through it. (However, I have to write the LSAT in a week and working out for an hour everyday has cut into my time; whatever, last time I checked you don't need a law degree to become a physical fitness instructor).
Rating: P90X!
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