I am not going to mention 22 yr.old in the clarity of this murky, almost-rainy day, with pollution hovering over my head, and pigeons flying dangerously close to that vicinity as well. I know I push nice people away. He had the choice to run or not. And I didn’t physically push him. I am not talking about it at all.
I decided this morning, as I did interval training on the treadmill, that if females are expected to look good–and we WANT to look good for our Boyfriends/P.B.s=Potential Boyfriends/W.T.(I.H.C.B.)Wishful Thinking(Insert Hottie Celeb Boyfriend/F.H.=Future Hubby/U.P.S. Guy, etc…THEY should take care of themselves as well. As I see it, it’s a maximum glute for a maximum glute. Feelin’me?
The same way our men want us to look really hot and take care of ourselves, they should do the same, and not drink beer like it’s going out of style, consider picking up the remote bicep curls, or carrying the groceries from the supermarket to car, an intense worket(comprised of 1.5 beads of sweat.)
All is not fear in love and its handles–or is it?
Talk To Me–