They say a waist is a terrible thing to mind. Mind you, my mind minds my waist is no longer shredded like a washboard with quarters bouncing off of it. Frankly, if when I approach hippies and the Amish shirtless -which totally happens all the time obviously- they aren't trying to half submerge me beside their drying rollers and do their worst, and three cheese blend in a bag isn't jealous because I've reached a shrededness they cannot even dream of, I'm not satisfied.
So I'm going to get back to the ol' fitness and stop eating like a bodybuilder on a stacking cycle, who then never works out.
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