I've spent years perfecting my "Rock Hard Abs In 30 Freaking Days!" routine, and now I'm ready to share it with you!
My quest began nearly 35 years ago, when, as a self-conscious teenager, I was sickened by the unsightly fat clumped around my midsection. I was a fat loser! I couldn't even see the newly-formed pubes now adorning my overly-handled pee pee. Were it not for the full length mirror in my parent's squalid bathroom, I might have missed this formative event altogether!
As I lay in a pool of my own tears on the urine stained linoleum tile, I realized how worthless I was. I knew the world was pointing its finger at me and saying, "Hey, Mr. Fatty Pants, why don't you go back to the refrigerator and eat a few more ice cream bars dipped in mayonnaise!" The world was my judge and jury, and I was the executioner; readying the ax to chop off my own pumpkin-shaped head. I was guilty. Guilty, I tell you!
And then, as if touched inappropriately by some type of haunting apparition, I picked my trembling, naked body from the floor, looked in the mirror, and envisioned the body that I should have. It was beautiful!
My chiseled pectoral muscles glistened with crisp morning dew, my flexed biceps danced to the jungle rhythm of a thousand prancing natives, my groin beckoned to be explored by the gentle yet insistent hand of a High School Gym teacher. But it was the abdominals which captured my attention.
They rippled like a gentle wave, only to crash into the shore of my loins! Each contour was highlighted by the pale bathroom light; a magnificent moonscape of shadow, crater, and discovery! It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and I knew I had to have it.
Thus began my quest...
It was a solitary quest. My friends, at once jealous of my heavenly vision while disgusted by the reality of my girth, abandoned me to a lonely world of abdominal crunches and low-calorie wheat smoothies. The girls were unsure of whether to scorn me, or take me to their heaving bosom like a hopelessly petulant infant. My parents avoided me, even taking the extreme measures of boarding my windows and barricading my bedroom door. I was a stranger in the strange land of my own creation, and the world was only too happy to indulge the strangeness of my strange creation.
And still I worked...
And my abdominals grew stronger! Soon, I was able to crack the peanut shells that my parents had stuffed under the door for me, using only my third and fourth "ab ripple." When I could unscrew the cap from my favorite mayonnaise jar, I knew I was ready to share my secrets with an appreciative world.
The secrets contained in "Rock Hard Abs In 30 Freaking Days!" are more a philosophy than an exercise program. When I tell you to "Squeeze the sinewy fibers of your meat rack like a wet towel in the YMCA steam bath," I don't expect you to know what it means. I expect you to feel what it means! You will learn the hard lessons that I have learned, and your abs will reap the rewards of your punishments.
So embark with me now, dear friends, on this journey of discovery and sacrifice. Prepare to feel your abdominals burn in the sweat of newly forged muscle fibers, and your soul churn in the hot juices of a spiritual flogging. This is not a crazy dream... it is real!