True to any modern fitness craze, the only way to achieve personal benefit is to spray your fad all over the toilet seat of humanity like an old mate in a pub toilet.
Accordingly, Marie has decided to embark on the F45 8-week challenge and to make sure she wins the Nobel Peace Prize for Inspology she cranks up her daily insta-vals to 4-5 posts a day.
She loves her 4:30am sessions. While you're sleeping she is transforming into a Stunna Combo meal that a slob, like you, doesn’t have a voucher for. She poses outside the oversized F45 logo with a protein shake:
“Every day we make choices, to be strong or to be weak. In 8 weeks I will have achieved my goals with my new F45 family. Anything is possible, Don’t just take over YOUR world, take over THE world #f45 #8weekchallenge#mealplan #fitspo #strength #hollywood #roman #shesfit”
Astoundingly, after just one day, Marie already sounds like Charlie Manson preaching to the cult of high-intensity interval training.
Fuck, she didn’t expect the first session to be quite so hard. She looks in the mirror and has to concede she looks less like Jennifer Hawkins and more like a sweaty tomato with a chronic case of asthma. She skips the post-workout selfie.
Instead, she uploads the combination of bird food and yoghurt she has brought with her for the #mealplan shot. See, the F45 challenge isn’t just about gloating that you are up at 4:30am, it’s also about spending $200 a week on the kind of food Paleo Pete Evans' masturbates to:
“Health isn’t just about working up a sweat, it’s about putting the right fuel into your body, you are what you eat remember guys ;)”
Jesus Christ, leave some cliches for the rest of us woman, and with a shit-eating post like that, you should probably be careful throwing around that “you are what you eat” mantra.
After a few weeks, Marie is ready for her first #TransformationTuesday. The act of posting a before and after shot of yourself in your undies and putting an unbearable amount of passive aggressive pressure on your friends to post positive vibes about your half-naked rig.
High on forced compliments, she lives her life one 4:30am session at a time. By the sixth week, she takes her fuckery to a whole new level and cancels on her best friend's engagement party, she posts on the event’s wall, “sorry babes, have to be up at 4:30am for an F45 sesh, have fun!”
You certainly don’t win friends by tossing them a cunt-salad like that.
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