Fit and Fin
[Post Removed – 6/02/20XX]
[Post Removed – 6/03/20XX]
[Post Removed – 7/05/20XX]
[7/06/20XX]
Fuck it, this is a fitness blog now.
You’re probably wondering why I deleted those past posts. There is a multitude of reasons, but those all mold together into a singular reason of “I was drunk and sad.” I know most of you follow me because of my humbly hilarious reviews of films (in particular my scene by scene destruction of Dog Does Sports X: At Hell’s Gates), but starting now this is a fitness blog. And you will deal with it. Because I have to deal with this:
I’m overweight.
Well I deleted three posts of garbage molded by clumsy hand into prose, and as much as I’m sure you wish you could still see how around paragraph three of post two you can see the exact moment the unblinking eye of the void won its battle with me and I started to come undone, I frankly don’t think keeping that stuff up was doing me any favors. So, I went.
As in, I went to an actual gym with a real ass plan and actually went inside the building. First of all, this isn’t my first time inside this particular gym. They’re not some new scam facility where they taze you for burning calories too fast, or some scam factory where they douse you in snake oil and pocket your cash. No, this is a real honest to goodness gym where for the most part you get let loose with real gear, and I sure as hell have been here before.
I was there when I was 220 pounds and hideous. I burnt 30-ish pounds somehow, discovered a new ice cream place on my commute, and with my disposable income either being spent on art films about cult sex or figures of obscure cancelled cartoons I couldn’t really say I was above buying as much ice cream as I did. A few years of masturbatory self-hate later I was back in the gym again at a new 250 and tried even harder to burn it off. I didn’t learn my lesson from before and ended up really, really just not getting anywhere. I’ll spare you the details but this was a deeper harder low.
When I went in earlier today I was out to prove a point. Because if I just blew forty bucks again just so I can gain weight after a guilt trip, well that is money better spent rotting in front of Cult of The Five Eyed Dog. I had to make it worth it. So that’s why I sprung for the personal trainer. I have NO idea what I was expecting.
Alright, so you’re me. You’re not thirty, but the warning signs are already starting to spread. You’re fat, obviously, and honestly not horrible looking? You want to lose weight, so you hire a fitness instructor with no other intentions, none of that shit. What do you think your instructor is going to look like, not knowing anything, not having any ulterior motives?
Also, if you read the title or looked at the tags for this blog you already know.
She was a GOD DAMN shark woman.
Like a legitimate real ass shark woman. She’s taller than me, like a ton taller. She’s got short hair, wind swept half shaved dark purple hair with a short saw tooth muzzle best put to use ripping open whales, broad tough shoulders with gray blue oceanic skin with a white under belly. Oh, and you can see her fucking ripped belly. She wears a slim top that hugs tight around her cleavage so you can see her piercings because of course a shark with tits would get them fucking pierced, and below that is a rack of a god damn ABS. I’m talking cheese shredding, ship buckling, life ruining abs.
It is at this point my figuring that I was going to get a weird guy with ragged hair trying to sell me on veganism and soccer was entirely shattered. In fact, while we’re at it, my whole perception of how the real world worked was broken. I shit you not, I looked her dead in the eyes and just said “What.”
“What do you mean what?” She replies with like a normal human voice. No weird deepness to it or a gargle effect like she’s talking through water. She talks like a human woman, kind of sweet sounding actually but a bit gruff.
“Is that a costume?” Which was a brilliant line on my part, genre defying.
“Nope! It’s all me!” She laughed and pointed her thumb towards the center of her chest. “And you’re my new client, right?” I sat there just silent, my ear buds hanging from my neck like a fool’s feet dangling from the pier. Once it was clear I had to be the one to break the ice I spoke.
“I guess so. If you’re looking for a Sao.”
“Sao [mylastname], yup!” She grabbed my shoulder and I swore she crushed bricks in her hands for fun. She tugged me right through into the gym proper. It wasn’t a modern looking place. Exposed brick painted stark white like a coverup. I heard the place used to be an Italian restaurant and swapped over, but I’m not sure. The pastabilities are endless. Right away she throws me at a treadmill and gets me running. She turns the slope up just a bit.
And I just run there in silence while she checks her phone. I’m turning around the whole place trying to look for wherever the hell reality might be so I could get back to it. Everyone around didn’t notice a thing. Not the trendy mom blasting off on the bike, or the weirdly old guy with the jerky legs of steel, or even the person with huge round glasses staring at us. After a moment I realized her eyes were more on me and my overweight ass than the literal sex shark standing next to me. Fat people are weirder than anthro sharks.
It was at this point I entirely accepted I was high on PCP. I never took any drugs, not even to see if it made The Phallus of Infinity more entertaining, and trust me I would if offered. So, I just took the dissociative high in stride as much as one can, ideally not through a window and onto my death because PCP does that to people. I’m running on the treadmill, I’m playing some music on my earbuds, I’m getting sweaty which isn’t a great picture but is literally my goal. And out of nowhere she budges me to listen up.
She’s smiling like watching me run is just a part of her job she’s come to casually accept and even like. The kinda grin that tells you someone is good at their job, at least that’s how I felt in my desperate search for affirmation my family never gave me. And she asks “How much you weigh?”
I studied for this test. “260.” I say back.
“How tall are ya?”
Dammit, they always sneak in a trickier one. “Like six foot one, maybe two.”
She nods. “What did you eat before you came in today?”
Oddly tricky to conjure up, but I tripped my words over. “I had a breakfast burrito from Taco Blast and after that I grabbed a burger for lunch.”
“Burger with what?” She shoots back. “You get fries? A drink?”
“Large chocolate milkshake. Large fries.”
“Large man.” She bites. “No more milkshakes, got it? That stuff sneaks in the calories. You wanna lose weight the easiest method is calories in, calories out. You limit yourself to 1500 from now on, and you like had 1500 at lunch alone.” That stuff sunk. I knew me, and I’d been having milkshakes so often for so long that I couldn’t imagine life without them. I know this sounds silly, and I think it sounds dumb too now looking back, but dammit it was a low moment for me.
I note everything she says on my phone and then I finish my workout up. She goes easy on me and only corrects a few things. When she corrects you she gets really touchy; Grabs you, lingers for a bit, puts you in the right way, and then pats. It’s weird being patted by something most creatures don’t survive to tell of the patting, but here I am breaking the mold.
This is my life now. I’m counting calories, I’m going to give it a real shot. I can’t let the shark woman down.
You probably all hated this post, but I really don’t plan on stopping now. Film reviews will be back shortly, and we’ll be streaming our D&D campaign this Saturday as always.
Also please someone fucking tell me it is weird she’s a real shark woman. PLEASE.
[7/13/20XX]
Weekly update.
Alright, so far so steady. I’ve gotten into a decent routine with Valcina. That’s her name by the way, my trainer who is a shark. I tried asking and literally no one cares. The receptionist said “Of course she is a shark” like yeah duh, why aren’t you? If you were smart, you’d be a shark too or some shit. I mean god have you seen the alternative? So fine, I’ve accepted it, Val’s a shark woman.
I’ve cut fast food out entirely, I’m counting everything. Val brought up intermittent fasting but that sounds too hardcore for me. I hate feeling hungry, hated it my whole life. So, we’re just not touching that. But calorie counting is the real answer. I feel like I’ve known about it my whole life and its such common sense but somehow this is the first time I’ve ever taken this seriously.
We start with thirty minutes of cardio. Treadmill or bike based on mood with a few other machines and options around the gym. She said we should consider runs around town, but I’m not quite at the point I’m okay being seen in public with someone’s fursona let loose (or me). Legit nothing against her, I’m just hung up on this point. She’s really nice actually. I broke down twice on the bike and couldn’t match what she said I should be doing, but she was reassuring as hell. Told me to just take a break and keep going when I could. All that mattered was getting it done, no matter what the pace. Don’t stop, stay on, but don’t kill yourself on the damn thing.
Mondays are arms. Lifting, pushing, stretching, all that mattered is that you moved your arms in every damn direction you could.
Wednesdays are for legs. Crunches, stretches again, pushes again.
Thursday was my back. Please, guess what verbs I’ll use.
Friday we just do cardio and anything else I felt like.
I joked that since she was a shark, we might go swimming sometime. She laughed at that but didn’t quite turn me down. So, I might go swimming with a shark lady sometime. The jokes are so obvious that making them is a waste of time. All I’m saying is this is the exact opposite point that Jaws was probably trying to make about sharks.
[7/27/20XX]
Weekly update hahaha
I LOST A LOTTA WEIGHT ALREADY
She said it’s normal but I am not nearly as sure.
Remember when I thought burning 30 pounds was maybe something to be proud of. Yeah well, this new number blows that one out of the water. Oh hey, there’s a shark joke.
Anyways yeah, I lost 50 pounds.
In three weeks. If you count the first week. I was already noticing it before even stepping on the scale. Jeans were starting to sag and fall down, glimpses at the mirror were filled with much less self-loathing, and my phone didn’t recognize my face so I had to reset my password.
I weigh 210 now, pushing me right out of the obese weight class and right into OVERWEIGHT BABY! FUCK YEAH! Now I’m not even close to done, but I’m a little scared that I even lost weight this fast? But just like the shark, no one seems to think dropping this much weight this fast is anything to be concerned about. I asked Val how she thought I was doing.
“You’re doing really good.” She said. Not “you’ve defied what is expected of the human body” or “losing that much weight that fast means you are literally dying.” Just the praise you expect when you bring your mom a B-. So fine, screw it! At least the comments here get how crazy this seems. Thanks guys, I need you like hot hair balloons need sand bags.
And sorry I haven’t been able to show myself on D&D. Justin’s still sick and dealing with his illness, so things will be postponed until that gets better. I’m sure he’ll get better soon, at least in time to get things running again. Until then!
[7/30/20XX]
Film reviews are coming again soon. Just taking a little break.
[8/1/20XX]
Thanks for tuning in to D&D everyone! And thank you so much for the compliments. I really didn’t know my face looked that much better. Someguy meme’d the shit out of my old self compared to the new face, and yes, my chin was liberated. I didn’t even know I had one! But the one guy who’s saying I look girly can knock that right off lol. Trust me, I ain’t looking that good.
At least not yet, but we’ll see where it goes!
Some of you have been posting your fitness journeys and stuff, your trips to one-derland (getting your weight below 200) and a lot of you said it took you more than half a year to drop 50 pounds. So that is really worrying me that this stuff is going so quick. I am being really careful and checking into this stuff.
Biggest difference now is my smaller appetite. A lot of the food I used to like also just flat out tastes terrible now. Oddly enough I’m not even digging salads that much either, so it’s not targeted just at old habits. I’m not complaining. Hell, it’s nice how losing weight kind of feeds into itself like this. Lose weight, physically capable of eating less, lose more weight, carry on.
[8/10/20XX]
Things have slowed a little bit. What lost me 50 pounds before only lost me around like four this time? While things did plateau, I figure it must be in part because of the muscle development factor. I’m not sure how much my muscles would even be developed at this rate, but hey maybe that’s going extra quick too just like the weight loss. I’m under no illusion reality even applies to me anymore.
Val’s been keeping me going, really adding on the weight. We’ve stuck on extra time to my gym visits. If I had a job I might get upset, but hey I got nothing but time. I learned that she’s been training people for around four years now. She’s from the west. She likes going to concerts and playing hockey.
She always has these hyper intense expressions on her face. I don’t think her face ever really rests. Even when I’m lifting a heavy piece of metal for the 55th time (I counted) she’s still looking at me with this cocksure grin, hand at her hip, eyes bright like fires. Like “god damn he really did it” is always on her mind. It makes you feel big, like you’re doing something right.
But it goes both ways. She’s quick to correct, and she’ll repeat corrections. “Not like that!” And she’ll snap the weight out of your hand and lift it like it’s nothing. She’ll tear my elbow forward and put the weight back in my hand and watch. I mess up again and the needle is brought back, record repeats. She never gets less or more annoyed. “Remember the reason you’re doing this is to do it right.”
Yeah, I wanna do it right. That’s why I hired a shark.
For all the comments asking for a pic… maybe? It feels weird to take a pic of my trainer like this. I’m sure she’d let me, but a part of me is tempted to keep this my own little mystery or some shit. And you smart asses would look and find a zipper or say something stupid like “She’s just from Wisconsin! We’re ALL sharks moron.”
[8/23/20XX]
Hi I have no clue what to type
Okay okay wow this weight loss shit is getting WEIRD.
When I started losing weight, even that dramatic bit it was so slow and gradual that I really didn’t notice any of it even though it was literally my fat just melting right the hell away. Like that story about the boat. Little pieces until it is not even the same boat. Well I just noticed today that objectively I am not really the same boat anymore.
I get out of the shower, and I know me. Overweight with just enough facial hair to shave but not enough to ever look good. On the sexy scale I’m about “two girlfriends and a wife at forty” hot. Well, I came out of the shower and looked at a glimpse through the mirror before the heat fogged it.
Through it I saw a fair face with flowing hair. She had full lips and a sharp shaped head. Her neck met at a toned chest; her breasts just barely pronounced with pretty pink nubs. Her waist was thin, her hips wide, but all of it was covered in little cobwebs of muscle, of showing fitness shining through.
My eyes went wide and so did hers. The fog consumed her when it spread over the mirror. I lunged forward at the mirror, the heat from my body only pacing up the for production. I mashed my fingers through the towel against the mirror and frantically fought off the fog like locust. She returned to my vision.
I watched how she followed my every motion. No, she mirrored it. I touched my lips. Where they always this sweet? I touched my nipples. They were tender. I ran my hand between the dip of my waist. God damn that was nearly an hour glass. I turned and looked at my ass, and even that was looking fucking womanly.
Alright, everyone joking in chat about me looking better, I see your point but what the actual hell is going on? This stuff seems a bit too far? Because I legit seem… off. Like this isn’t all. I see Val tomorrow, so we’ll see. I’ll ask her if all of this is okay or not. Maybe something went off in the program? Maybe the fucking PCP she’s been slipping me finally just resulted in a different high. Tomorrow I’ll probably be a god damn goat or something.
Sorry that this whole post seems like some wish fulfillment smut, we’ll back to our regularly broadcasted self-loathing and fitness later!
[8/24/20XX]
Well, this was a heated work out.
So, I get dressed up for the day. My shirts don’t really fit me the same way anymore, but it’s just a workout so I don’t need anything fancy, just something that I can sweat in. My shorts were already pretty tight in the past, but even they don’t quite hug my waist right now. Before I land in the gym, I drop by a place to grab a new set of work out clothes just out of pure discomfort.
I’ve been doing this whole workout thing for almost two months now, might as well grab a few things. Well the clerk working at the place calls me “miss” when asking if I need help. I go to shout at him, but my voice sounds pretty damn convincingly girly so I drop my argument. Again, weird. Like I can still sound like I always could, but at that moment when I was irritated I just couldn’t control myself and dipped right into that voice.
Little search later I find a short and pants stapled together with those plastic strings. I put it on and just kind of admire how it looks. I rustle my blonde hair a bit, look at how my stomach looks fit and thin especially in this outfit, how the shorts hug nicely and I just figure: Yeah, this is what I’m wearing today. I look good, even if I don’t look at all that masculine. Hey, this actually isn’t a bad development. I’m okay with looking girly, I just want to make sure nothing fucky is going on. Literally never heard of working out so hard you lose not just your weight but also your gender.
That would’ve made The Biggest Loser a VERY DIFFERENT SHOW.
New outfit in tow, I race to the gym and quickly get Val up to date. She nods along and just says something like “Good, that’s good. You’re right on the path!” Which sure, fuck it, that’s good enough for me. I do my session and from cardio to weights she’s just extra handy on me the whole time. Flat out touching my stomach while I’m doing my lifts and admiring it. I have no idea why either, but god damn it made me regret buying these new shorts. Use your imagination for why tighter shorts might not have been a great idea for an aroused person who still has a penis.
In the locker room she follows me. Says I’m doing really well and glad I’m asking questions. She asks to see my calorie log. I comply and she scrolls through it. Count is always low and good. “You’ve been eating a lot of fish!” She remarks with a laugh. It was that usual intense laugh, no middle ground. Me eating fish is so exciting and surprising to her that she says it like she just realized we were related.
I go “Well yeah, they’re low in calories.” And that’s an absolute fact. Salmon, broccoli, rice. That combo alone will make your diet the easiest shit. Especially since salmon is fucking delicious. Lately I’ve stopped with the broccoli part but whatever. She doesn’t make any more of a deal out of it and hands me back my phone, but during that transaction her hand lands on my leg and slides up to my thigh over the material of my black shorts.
Yes, this really happened.
She grips gently at the top and starts to tug a little. “And your legs have gotten so much stronger too.”
I don’t say anything. What’s happening isn’t something I was counting on or expecting or even something I disliked or wanted to stop. I freeze like the deer on the road and let the car decide if I get plowed or not. Her wheels keep turning. The shorts go down and my dick comes out. She grips it and I feel this intense heat.
Working out produces testosterone. This hormone is the “mmm dick feel good” juice that flows in you and usually makes you a big tough guy. Well my testosterone was special and wasn’t doing that in most places. It must’ve made up for that by focusing entirely on one location. She asks “how big was your dick when you started.” Now that was a leading sentence and I was already nervous as fuck. Was my dick bigger?! This whole time and I wasn’t bragging?
I reply something along the lines of “Seven inches” which was a flat out lie, I was probably four or some shit. It wasn’t like she had a ruler.
So, she pulls out a ruler. Lo and behold, my cock was fucking nine inches. One more inch and I’m the lazily balanced punchline an entire Aerosmith song orbits around. “You’re doing good here too. You’ve been working this out, right?”
Mind go blank. The fuck did she mean I’d been working that out?! I’ve been wanking sure, everyone does. I blow my load like four times a dayafgjdg oh god. I really have been jerking off more lately. I used to be like a one every other day. But lately? I DIDN’T SHARE THIS FOR OBVIOUS REASONS, BUT IT SEEMS PERTINENT NOW.
At the time I tell her “No, no, what do you mean?”
She answers by sucking me off.
I mean sucking me the fuck off proper. She blows me the way she approaches everything, with maximum fucking energy. Sucking me off in the changing room isn’t sucking me off in the changing room, it’s the impassioned worship of a sex hungry wife sobbing with love as she meets her war hero husband who just got done riding on the back of a nuke to blow it up in the atmosphere safely away all of humanity. She sucked my dick so hard I forgot my entire elementary school education.
What is getting your dick sucked by a shark like? Really, really fucking good. The whole time she’s praising me. Running her hands up and down my body, saying shit like “You’ve been doing so well~” or “Keep it up hot stuff~” All the while her tongue is just doing wild sacred arts bullshit. If her tongue slipped, she could hit a chakra point and remove my ability to enter heaven or some shit.
And when I cum she swallows it like it was a shot of ambrosia. If you told me swallowing a guy’s cum would add years to my life, I still wouldn’t be able to match her enthusiasm. Hell, I’d be pissed if I had to get through a guy’s dick to get a billion dollars. She sucked me off for free! Technically she wasn’t even on the clock!
She licks the excess seed off her snout, smiling up at me. My legs are spread, I’m sat on the bench. I forgot who I am or where I’m at. But what she said stuck with me so damn hard. “I’m proud of you. You’re almost done. Just stick with me. Just keep going just like this~ You’re becoming someone so perfect. I am so proud of you.”
It is at this point all the smart people have left. They called me out, this is clearly fiction. Good on them! They figured out this is a weird sex fantasy story and fucked right off. I hope those smart people do something good with their lives, like design corrective plumbing in Autodesk. Alright, rest of you guys who are huffing paint like me, please, stick with me. I feel like the depravity has only started, and us gasoline drinkers gotta stick together.
Please, tell me, am I going crazy? Is this a coma? Combination of all the other presented options?
I’ll try and post more soon but I got a killer headache. So next time.
[8/27/20XX]
I’m looking even girlier now. Yeah, tits growing. They’re legit boobs now. I don’t even know what else to say.
[8/30/20XX]
Bigger boobs
[8/31/20XX]
Still getting bigger. They’re fucking like idk
What are cup sizes again?
[9/05/20XX]
My dick is splitting in half.
As in I have two dicks now. They’re both long and red in color and oh god oh so sensitive. How sensitive? I’ve been trying to type about them for almost a week now, and every time I start up, I just lose my mind and have to erase everything I typed. The only time I’m not jerking off is at the gym, and Val is just flat out having sex with me every time I finish a workout.
She drags my pants off, compliments whatever is new, and goes to town.
I complain about the tits, she says “Oh your chest is looking so strong!”
My butt looks too girly? She says “That’s an athletic rear. You’re doing so well!”
Stripper hips? She squeezes them and just moans. A purring happy shark.
And now I have two snakes in my shorts and all she can say is “More fun~”
Yeah, more fun.
I’m going to a hospital or something before this gets too weird. Like, I should, right? And even weirder is what I noticed when I take shower? That shit just slides right off me. Water feels so damn weird now. Kinda nice…
[9/21/20XX]
Wow, I really left you guys on read with the dick splitting post didn’t I?
Alright, alright, here I’ll put the dots together one last time.
The past few weeks everything has just kind of blended together. I hadn’t stepped foot on a scale in forever, but when I did, I was at a really, really nice weight. I can’t remember what it was but it sure as hell made me happy.
Val invited me to go swimming with her. Said it would be a good way to shake up the cardio. Well, I went into the gym’s pool room with her and felt this strange calling to the water. I just froze up and felt like the light reflecting off the pool was extra bright, like everything about that cool flowing water was perfect and magnificent and the most immaculate assembly of water ever.
I can’t explain it because it is a feeling beyond recognition. Even if I could figure out what feeling that was and how to fight it, there was just no chance of me defeating it. Not something that strong, that vital. Val is right there next to me. She strips off everything and for the first time I realized my gym teacher is packing heat. She’s got twin cocks too and gently pushes them against my side. She strips me with the only witness being the blue waves that danced in the light and my twin reflection in the relaxed waves of the indoor pool.
At the edge I stand bare and presented. The water judged but said nothing. She ran her hands over my rippled abs, she squeezed my fat breasts and teased my nipple piercings. I don’t remember when I got those, but I just know they’re important. Val is smiling with her teeth showing, with her eyes bright but half lidded.
Her words made me feel like a piece of art. I don’t remember them very well because they were the kind of words that make your brain dip down, go real low and stupid. She could’ve handed me a gun and pointed at the nearest bank and fuck I would’ve done it right there and then, recruitment succeeded, I am now a member of your weird bank robbing cult. It would’ve made more sense if she was some person sent by a sex cult to remove that pesky film blogger who had been gathering together all the funny shlocky cult movies into one place. But instead, it was just a physical trainer doing her job. And she was damn good at her job. She made me feel like her star student.
“You’ve done perfectly. All of this is because you put in the work, you stayed focus, and you listened. Now it’s time.” That’s all I remember her saying.
Next thing I knew I was in the water. I was swimming with her and gliding through the waves. My gills opened like yawning mouths, taking in water and making the stay below far too easy. I never had to come back up. My tail grew in shortly after, emerging like a thick tired worm and quickly getting to work. Val helped me beneath the water, teaching me how to use it just like she did everything else. When I emerged from the water she pulled me into a kiss.
My muzzle must’ve grown in while we were kissing because I barely noticed.
[9/23/20XX]
She taught me more about how to use my new tail. We swam the whole day, five hours of just moving together, doing whatever we wanted. When we weren’t swimming, we were fucking. I rode her or she rode me. Nothing mattered anymore except each other in those playful moments. And again YES. THIS IS WEIRD. THIS SUPER STRANGE. But we’re past doubt. Remember, we are just the crazy people now.
Except. If this is a hallucination, I kind of don’t want it to stop.
[9/25/20XX]
We spent our first day outside the gym together.
Like, as a couple.
Which by the way I think we are? I know how fucking hokey that sounds. “Sao, you naïve fuck. She turned you into a shark hermaphrodite and plowed you, yes she wants to be a thing.” First of all, it’s Saia now, thank you, sorry for not telling you sooner. Second, yeah, I know! But you don’t get told the hallucination rules from the fucking start. I don’t swallow the mushrooms and then get handed the pamphlet explaining how things are going to roll. “Oh, and as a reminder,” The hallucination butler would say as I’m thumbing through the pamphlet to figure out the rules for floating thumbs and seeing The Night Mother, grand queen of the great return to the womb, “If a girl has sexual intercourse with you and spends most of her time with you, even if she turns you into a shark, she wants to date you.”
Oh, thank you, I appreciate it!
So, we go out on the town and just do whatever we want. Her eagerness kills me. I say we should go see a movie, and all of a sudden, this movie is her favorite thing in the world. We sit down and watch it, and the whole time she’s engaged. This movie was a sequel, but she was paying close attention, picking up details and hints and even seeing stuff my dumb ass would never notice. “They actually taught that extra to fight.” Or “The way they filmed this; I think the emphasis on squares in the fountain was about how the guy feels trapped.” Why does my sex shark girl friend know film theory?!
After the film I ran into some friends. And get this. They think I’ve always been a shark. Yeah, they see me and just think I’ve always been this way. So I don’t know what to think, but I have all your comments screenshotted and archived, so I’ll always have proof that no, fuck that, this is weird.
But I like this weird.
[Closing Words]
Yeah, fitness blog mode is officially over. So this little thing will be closing up, and that alt I set up will be my main place from now on. I’m glad you guys are digging the pics I post, and if you want to sign up for Val’s fitness program please message her instead of me.
I want to say something encouraging to all of you guys trying to lose weight, but my advice is a little horse shit. Sure I “put the work in” and “dedicated myself to change”, but I got overly rewarded for what was just a respectable effort. I showed up to the game only dribbling the ball and somehow won it all. I lost a year’s worth of weight in two months; I turned into a weird sex shark and got my dick sucked by my trainer and didn’t even pay extra; The hallucination favored me every step of the way.
This won’t happen to you.
You’ll count calories and eat a little less. You’ll go to the gym and probably only burn a few hundred calories by the time you leave. That’s the same amount you gain whenever you drink a soda. One soda can wipe all the progress you made away.
My advice that I can give that will somehow apply to people who won’t turn into sex sharks? Put the effort in. Go out of your comfort zone. If you want different out, put different in. That’s all it takes. Be willing to change, and sure as fuck don’t be scared of change. That worked for me, and that part will work for you too.
If you’re not happy with something about yourself, change it. As much as you can, as much as you can manage every day. You can lose a few pounds a month, and fuck it, that’s more than enough. Because that’s effort going forward, that’s proof you care.
And that’s what really counts.
Anyways.
D&D is still going on. Val really, really likes it so we’re going to try a one shot with her. I got no clue what she wants to play.
Film reviews will be back in order soon. I won’t be spending as much time on them since I am looking for a different job. I’m hoping to get something on my terms but we’ll see.
Till then hallucination buddies.
Later.
