In the midst of my recognition that I need a bit of transformation, the boythingy so conveniently pointed out my protruding belly. "What's this??" he teases as he nudges a finger into my poonch. I gasp in shame and suck it in replying "Nothing... I don't know what you're talking about!". Obviously shamed, I am immediately soothed with a hug and reassurance that I don't look like a wheel barrel, immediately followed by the encouragement to do crunches. Being that I respect his opinion, and also the knowledge that the poonch definitely needs to go, I have started the crunch regimen. Right before I go to sleep and immediately when I wake up, I am now struggling through 50 crunches. "When did it get so tough to do 50 crunches?" I asked myself after the first grueling set. Then I remembered that I had gained approximately 45 pounds and it had all become so suddenly clear when. So here I stand, completely aware and truthful with myself. I need to do crunches... A whole lotta crunches...
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