+ excessive sitting
+ hours of deliberate inactivity
+ half a blind eye and questionable negligence
= inevitable sedimentation of fats, lipids and sugar
= skinny legs no more
= years of deploration
= a self-conscious cocoon of subtle shame
= why had I been so goddamn lazy?
= that’s it, no more wishy-washy workouts and unfinsihed diets during which I’ve been half day-dreaming
= I am done with this bullcrap
= if I can’t change the way I feel inside, then I’ll change the way I look outside
= BYE BYE FAT LEGS IMMA TAKING YOU DOWN.
I don’t know if you can call this poetry but I guess…it can be experimental? Haha. I’ve been working out for several years, but I’ve never really put my mind to it. I hate exercising. When I’m doing squats or leg lifts I’m always thinking about something else. Surprisingly, that really impacts on the calories you burn! Just recently I’ve discovered that I haven’t been working out…hard, at all. Despite I lament over the time that’s lost, it’s never too late to start. I’m through with standing in front of my wardrobe, trying to pick out something that will hide my lower body and make it look…not as unsatisfying. It’s mostly self-consciousness but I can’t help it. I can’t be like, oh I don’t care what other people think I’ll just wear whatever I want to wear. I just can’t. So I’m just going to lose it all, dammit. (ROAR)