Firstly, congratulations to Jillian Michaels. A forthcoming wedding is always a happy event.
But I regret to inform you, Ms, soon to be Mrs Michaels, that I have developed a deep-seated loathing for you. I liked you initially. Even though you punished my flabby little body mercilessly, I enjoyed your determination and brutal honesty. Then, around Day 5 of our relationship, I must confess, my warmth towards you cooled off a bit. Your little catchphrases throughout the workout ceased to be entertaining and instead, became terrible marker points for how far I was through the routine. As in ‘oh Christ, she’s only just done the “bathing suit shopping” comment, that means I’ve got another fifteen minutes to go’ etc. I do not like those little reminders, emphasising to me how difficult I still find it, even after all this time and effort. Your attempts at motivating me started to have the opposite effect, and make me want to sit on the sofa, watch you and the two ladies behind you panting and huffing away and neck down a snickers bar whilst churlishly sticking my two fingers up at the screen.
At Day 10, I was seriously hacked off. Your face was beginning to grate on me. I wasn’t sure why, as it was a perfectly presentable and some might say (especially your fiancee) an attractive one. But none the less, the little expressions started to really get on my goat. It was around this point that I started to say some quite foul language in response to many of your comments. Eg – ‘Dont you want abs like this?’ Response: ‘Yes, of course I do, you ****ing moron, I wouldn’t put myself through this misery every night otherwise, would I.
Or ‘Just a couple more crunches now ladies…’ Response: ‘I don’t ****ing believe you, you ****ing ********, you say that every time, when in fact, it’s ****ing eight more, you ****ing lying **** I ahold know, I’ve ****ing counted. Several times.’
Etc etc. You get the drift.
You can imagine my delight when, at Day 13, I had to stop for a week, due to illness. Oh what a shame, I thought to myself with exaggerated horror, actually secretly loving the fact that I could slob on the sofa in the evening instead of engaging in physical torture.
However, Ms Jillian Michaels, despite my loathing towards you, I cannot deny you get results. So I suppose, despite my growing dislike of you, I have to concede that actually, unlike many other fitness DVDs I’ve had the displeasure at wading my way through, yours at least does what it says on the tin. Be warned though, by 30 days, I may have to hunt you down and kill you. (that was a joke by the way. Ahem.)