Я, конечно, стараюсь не поддаваться массовой истерии по...

Of course, I try not to succumb to mass hysteria about flat bellies and tight pop - everything in me is fine and so, and the power of my unearthly charm distracts from possible minor flaws. However, spring is spring, after spring summer will come with swimsuits and other unpleasant bare bellies, therefore I gathered my ass in a fist, exhaled and made a strong-willed decision to sign up for. It is very good that for any level - I, of course, am an athlete, last year I did three days of squats in the morning, and I have dumbbells propping up the door to the room, but still I need to start with something simpler. And then as I go to the gym, as I cover myself with cubes, as I become one continuous ball of muscles! Nothing foreshadowed trouble - aunts of different sizes in
a spacious hall, step platforms like coffins for dwarfs, rhythmic music, there is no coach yet. Remembering that athletes warm up before training, I with a focused face
jumped, turned her head and in every possible way showed the present klugs that they were visited by a fitness fan who knows what and how! So, where is the coach already? What is vapsche, I do not understand? .. The trainer galloped up - a little pumped-up woman:
- Is this your first time? It will be hard - take a break. Go!
Five minutes, the flight is normal! It's great to jump to the music - why haven't I come here before? Must
go in for sports, give a healthy lifestyle!
Seven minutes, the flight is normal, but bewilderment is growing inside - is it that all 50 minutes will be at this pace? Ten minutes, flight is so-so. Around me twenty women with the faces of murderers waving their legs and hammering into the platform - what is there an elephant compared to a battalion of gloomy aunts who decided to bring
yourself in order!
Twelve minutes, confusion grows stronger. The coach-aunt didn't even turn pink:
- Even more active! Mach, step, overwhelm! Four more times, keep pace!
Fifteen minutes - I'm going to burst with splashes and dirty the hall for you. Or my leg will come off on the next swing. I understood why the rest of the women are so hammering into step platforms, I too
I hated: take it, you disgusting thing, here's to you, and again! Damn you, damn it!
Twenty minutes, we take the rugs, now there will be a complex for the press. Well, thank God, at least not to jump, otherwise the mug with our banner of the same color - sometimes blue, sometimes red, and a couple of white spots - made me sick.
Twenty-two minutes: Mom! Bring back the step platforms, I want to die in motion, not in the pose of an epileptic cancer! I cannot throw my legs behind my head with the strength of the abdominal muscles. I have no muscles there, I have breakfast and nerves there.
Twenty-five minutes: Exercises on the press are not in vain ... Belarusian partisans could torture captured Fritz by twisting - after the 15th time I am ready to tell all the secrets of the universe.
- Not free! Who wants to walk with a naked tummy in the summer? We are working! If I die now then naked
my tummy in the summer won't bother me much - I quietly slide to the floor and breathe into the aisle. The mirror reflects priests of all colors and sizes and faces of the same color - crimson, the expression on their faces is still the same gloomy - anti-cellulite jihad. Thirty minutes: the group is like a squad of zombies - staggering figures in a half-squat, disheveled hair and eyes burning with sacred thought. Forgive me, but I cannot curl up in this position, my legs grow in the opposite direction. And I can hardly do it in this life ... And I can’t do that either, in the end it’s just indecent! It is necessary to somehow unnoticeably pinch off
a piece from the trainer and take it for analysis - she is rubber, a normal person cannot tie into such knots. Thirty-five minutes: Of course, why not do a final push-up? My body pretends to be a trembling rag and refuses to accept any position other than a purely horizontal one.
- So, girls, we do push-ups on the platform, we touch it with our breasts - whoever touches, he has beautiful breasts! I touched the platform with my chest almost immediately and remained lying - does this count or not?
Forty minutes: I can't sit like that, my legs don't bend like that! To reach the pinky of your feet with your little finger in this position? This is a utopia. What are you doing?! Stop breaking my body! What a strong woman trainer, so small and so cruel! Fascist! I won't add up, I'm made from a single piece of wood, ahhh! Wait, don't go! Lay me back down immediately, I myself will not straighten, and I will not fit into the car with such a straightening! Forty-five minutes: I really want to hide behind the step platform. I will die in agony right on the final stretch - I will tear in half on the count. Forgive me everything for everything! Iii .... hrya! Fifty minutes: Someone kindly gathered me into a heap and rolled me to the wall. The lesson is over, we are expected in two days. Wait ... Ale, husband? Come and take my remains.
Lord, how bad! ..
Morning: yyyyy ..... Lord, yesterday I felt good, BAD for me today! It feels like I was sleeping in a working concrete mixer - I can only move my eyes. Bring my will, I will rewrite the subscription for my unloved second cousin! Husband, remember me young and beautiful - now I will get up to work and have