ABS Diary 1

I'll be dedicating a good part of my Ego's Blog to the documentation and tracking of the progress of my abdominal development.

I got this brilliant idea from COACH, a special release from Men's Health Philippines. One of their tips is to keep track of your progress, so I thought, what's a better way to do it than publicly.

By tracking the development of my abdominals publicly, I'll be motivated by this age's strongest influencer: Peer Pressure. By subjecting myself to ridicule, to the public's ever critical eye, I'll be motivating myself to prove everyone wrong. That's just how my ego works, bitches. You bring me down, I'll only rise up.

So, there. This is my ABS DIARY ENTRY Numero Uno.

Current State: Around the area where a washboard should appear in a few months, loosely hang a pouch-like bodily formation. I have earned this pouch, and I have earned it hard. Now, to lose it, I'll have to push myself even harder.

How bad is the situation: My abdominal muscles are evident... But your imagination is required. So is your belief that it's there, yes, by god, it's there all right. You have to look at this pouch-like formation for a good quarter of an hour without blinking.

What I'm currently doing about it: For the past few days, my friend Angela and I have been jogging around the UP Academic Oval. We are regularly joined by various friends. People from our offices, mostly.

Shirtless and Swollen

What am I aiming for: I want killer 6-packs, bitches. I want abs so mean, 17-yo college dudes would want to eat sushi off of it. I want your girlfriend wanting to rub her pussy on my abs, and by doing so, she'll be rewarded with the sensation akin to having the world's largest string of pearls running across her vadge. I want abs so kick ass, I can go to church shirtless and they'll all go, Oh, that's all right then, Jesus would approve. I want 6-packs so bad, Men's Health will have me on speed dial, and I'll be all, like, "Oh, this Thursday, you mean? Sorry, mate, I'm like busy with a pitch or a bitch or whatever's clever that day. I'm good on Tuesday for the cover shoot, but you have to pick me up from my office, and I don't want uglies on the set, I'm fuckin allergic to uglies, mate." And they'll be like, OH, all right, Mr. Malvar, our MH cover guy for July, we're giving in to your whims and all.  I want killer abs so fuckin killer they'll kill killers, and people will go like "If ABS can kill, Siege's is the Jason Ivler of ABS." I want my abs on the cover of my next book, and people will be generally seeing me as  piece of meat, thereby lowering their expectations, catching them off guard with my sudden bursts of brilliant eloquence and insight. 

THAT's what I fucking want.