I don’t go out on Friday nights often. For one, I’m a bit of a hermit. But mostly because my best friend and I pay to get our asses kicked every Friday at 6:00 by one of the fiercest women we know: our personal trainer.
It all started around the holidays last year. As I sat on my couch watching Bad Santa for the 30th time, eating pizza in my underwear, washing it down with eggnog (#killercombo), I thought to myself, “Hmmmmm. I’m pretty sure I used to be way hotter.”
Random Tangent: How the hell does Bad Santa only have a 7.1 on IMDB? I am boycotting. Bad Santa is a cinematic masterpiece. If you don’t get the humour in it, we can’t be friends.
I had met my trainer during a bootcamp class I took the year before, and knew that if there was anyone who could turn my fat into “phat,” it would be her. She is a goddess with a rock-solid body.
Over the last half year, she has taken two slightly whiny and out-of-shape girls and turned us into those people who actually enjoy working out! (Okay, well, we’re still pretty whiny.) Through workouts we actually enjoy doing, she has trimmed our body fat down (29%->21%) and kept us motivated to keep going.
But Friday nights have become much more than just working out, it is our one hour during the week where we vent, laugh until we cry, take ridiculous pictures, overshare (no such thing as TMI) and sweat. Somewhere along the line, we began calling her “Muscle Mama” and we became her “Muscle Babies.” Why? Because we’re all weirdos with the same sense of humour.
While on a recent mini vacation, my best friend and I stumbled onto one of those tourist shops that has a machine that presses custom writing onto clothing. We decided we had to get her some fine-ass booty shorts. And she loved them!
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some squats to do.
P.S. If you’re interested in becoming a Muscle Baby yourself, check out her awesome YouTube channel by clicking here.
Total Kindness Cost: $30