Sent some photos, just to . . . who knows.
Wanted good ones–Fat no shows:
But alas, it all goes south.
From my hand into my mouth.
Gonna work out somehow soon,
Just be kind while bouncing round
The living room.
FX body blasters on
Sweating, stumbling, panting to song.
They say two weeks, I say more
Maybe even more like four.
But in the end, the end is tight
Huffing, puffing, with all my might.
The hand that feeds now grasps a cup
Of either water or bone broth muck.
One month of health to the start
Of body wealth.
It’s okay, baby you can do it!
Rockin, stompin, just get through it
And in the end is firmness
Butt and boobs and belly too
Perfect for the two of you.