Round bowls covered in lycra

I admit it, under my sensible personal trainer persona lurks a dirty secret. The deepest darkest secret ever, but your are privileged, I'm gonna tell you. Whenever I am in a supermarket and I see a magazine that says "How to get Gwyneth's arms" I grab it, I need to find out (it's the professional in me), I will read the story before even getting to the till, it's sad yes. But this information is stuff I have to find out! I know how to make arms look tight and toned yet somehow this way must be better. Some fantastic new concept that will change arms everywhere forever. It's amazing, these celebrities, their bodies, their time? How do they do it? Obviously your answer will be "Because they have a chef, a nutritionist, a trainer a dog trainer". But I have seen it, I've seen women who have it all yet still manage to not hold back the donuts when they are out of the watchful eye. So how do they do it? I do not know, they come from ratbag to ravishing in 5 minutes, easy peasy! Willpower of steel! This obsession is not cheap (but it certainly is cheerful), Fitness magazines are about £4 a pop and I buy Zest, I buy Health and Fitness, Women's Fitness, Ultra Fit, Fitness hers, I even buy the monthly Holland and Barrat magazine and when I can I go to borders and read their magazines, you're allowed to do that are you not? I do try to be sensible though. . . . sometimes I see "Get Britney's Abs" or "Get Colleens bum" and I think, yuk no thanks, come on magazine people your standards have dropped. Britney's stomach is nothing to be desired and neither is Coleen's bum for that matter. What I'm looking for is thighs honed like rockets, arms as taught as a squirrel's, abs so toned they could be used to model bat girls shield. I must find this exercise! That does all that and more, I must. I will not stop until my bum cheeks are like little rounded bowls covered in Lycra.

Magda Infliction

I couldn't believe my eyes at the gym yesterday. Well I would have if they hadn't been nearly taken out by the braless bazookas bouncing buoyantly on the treadmill. This voluptuous beauty was oblivious to the spectacle she was making of herself, but I can assure you, most of the male populace of the gym was certainly aware, including myself (for research purposes only). This is one of my pet hates (yes I have a few) when it comes to the female of the species in the gym. Please please pretty please wear a bra, do I have to spell it out to you? W.E.A.R. A. B.R.A! Please. Please for the sake of mankind and your breasts two years down the line. I mean it when I say down, in the literal sense. The only thing that's getting a workout on this lady is her coopers tendon, the anti-sag tendon or coopers drooper as I like to call it. There is no repairing this tendon, no "I must, I must improve my bust". It can only ever be tightened with surgery, so unless you want a "Magda infliction" (see. There's something about Mary) just wear a blooming sports bra. Boys tell your other halves because I'm pretty certain you didn't watch something about Mary and scream "Look at those puppies" when Magda got her baps out. And they most definitley did not say "Iwish I had boobs like her".