Rocking That Body

Dear readers,

As it may (or may not) have occurred to you, I'm not very fat, though I'm not exactly the fittest person. Just the other day I was wearing shorts and noticed...

Jiggly thighs. Like quivering slices of bacon, I hit them, and they went boing-boing-boing, vibrating with some weird frequency.

Heck, if I hadn't been so concerned about how flabby they were, I might've even had fun jiggling them.

Anyways, I was indeed concerned about them, so I decided to hop onto my mother's exercise bicycle. Mmm it came with a pseudo-leather seat so that I could feel better about it. Setting my time to 30 minutes of fierce biking, I mobilised my thighs.

Oh wow. At first it was easy. I breezed through 50 cycles in a few minutes. I was going so fast, I could've powered my mobile phone for a while. Then I noticed something.

The "difficulty" wheel was set at 1. 1 out of 8 levels. Dang it, I knew it was too good to be true. Sighing, I cranked it all the way to 6, just to make them muscles suffer. SUFFAH, I tell you.

Oh dear mothership, I felt the strain set in a while later. It built up gradually and ate into the flesh, pulling all those muslces into one massive crying entity. I felt the jelly in my thighs die.

After a while, I got used to it. However, sweat was starting to form now. All over too. The hands, the legs, the forehead. I started to glisten with sweat. Mmm. Shiny. That was probably the only thing that distracted me from my dying legs. Still, I cycled on, on the bicycle that didn't move. Faster! I urged myself. Faster! I pushed as hard as I could, trying my best not to tweak the dial back. I couldn't lose to a bicycle and my jiggly thighs. I just couldn't.

Finally, I stepped off the machine half and hour later. Amid the cocoon of sweat, I could feel the thighs shrink just the tiniest fraction of a centimetre. Still. Better then nothing.

I slapped the thighs, yelling "Who's da man? Huh? Huh?"

"You...are..." they jiggled back.