On the eighth day, Satan put athletic trainers on this Earth to silently torment the obese with their perfect forms. Here are my predictions as to what goes through these chiseled-chested demons minds as they watch us suffer through the countless exercises they prescribe for us.
- “Oh my God, if he farts now I win the pool!”
- “Your fat rolls look like an accordion expanding and contracting.”
- “If this is how you look when you squat, how could you possibly look when you’re constipated?”
- “You know, this is how John Candy died.”
- “Is that sweat or just bacon grease left over from lunch?”
- “Maybe if I dangle a donut in front of him I can get off early?”
- “Is that a tear? That’s a tear. Ladies and gentlemen the Hoover dam has sprung a leak!”
- “This moment is just precious… based on the novel Push by Sapphire.”
- “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to take a hose to that beefy undercarriage of yours once and a while.”
- “Oh really that’s just your baby weight? YOUR CHILD IS 16!!!”
- “Honestly you could uproot a California redwood with one kick from those gargantuan kankles.”
More to come.
~I’ll be feeding you seconds in no time,