I have been frustrated by the refusal of my belly to go away no matter how hard I train or how much stuff is sucked out of me. After a year of weight training so intense that I often end a set crying, I've seen no reduction in my waistline. In fact, I seem to be adding inches to my waist, which just adds to the tears.
When I work out, I generally wear dykey a-line shirts. Since I'm not supposed to call them w___ b______ any longer, I've taken to calling them "T" shirts. (It's a tranny pun. don't worry if you don't get it.) But today I wore sports bra ... and that revealed my big fat belly. I've always felt uncomfortable letting anyone see it even though it's a family heirloom (both my parents had it.) The skin is so unaccustomed to being exposed to light that I'm sometimes called "Fishbelly" by some of my more nelly friends.
When I saw myself in the mirror in the locker room, I was surprised to discover that I had defined abdominal muscles. It wasn't a Spartan-style six-pack. Just soft, girly, non-steroid-baby abdominals. But it was enough to make me feel like a total Amazon.
I strutted out to the exercise room proudly displaying my bare waist and saying "look out, Boys. Fishbelly's back in town."
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