Rule of a Flat Stomach

Since the first Diet Coke passed my lips, I knew I would not rest until I achieved my coveted flat stomach. Technology makes us all candidates for smooth abs. Never again will our collective flab spill over the waistband of society, causing global embarrassment on a local scale.We all want to be like everyone else except those who are not like us. Those who are not like us will never like us until we sport flat stomachs on a regular basis.

I was born with a cute round belly adored by all who held me, but these days my self-worth calibrates solely relative to a distinct lack of subcutaneous fat cells about my midsection. No doubt you, dear tubby reader, long for a sense of value linked to how your shirt meets your shorts. Is there a broad arc, or does the top join the bottom in a glorious straight line indicative of Olympic dieting?

You trim your hair, nose hair, shrubbery, lawn, budget, and enthusiasm. Don't stop there: deploy a McDavid Waist Trimmer along your rocky road to smooth stomach contours. This handy device is pretty much guaranteed to prevent excessive abdominal adipose adherence. Simply strap it into place and kick back to binge on The Walking Dead. Enjoy bowls of lightly salted popcorn drenched in liquid cheese and seasoned with ghost peppers: despite your best efforts to gain weight, this device magically strips away your lard.

Nothing you do today will benefit your quest for flatness more than a McDavid Waist Trimmer. An elliptical trainer, a walk in the park, or a 100-mile bike ride will seem like time-wasters. Only the erstwhile humans who build McDavid Waist Trimmer understand what you endure. Those trimly toned hardbodies gracing TV ads for home exercise equipment are not real people. When the lights go off and the director stops yelling, everyone of those 'actors' reaches for a McDavid Waist Trimmer and a jelly doughnut, usually at the same time with both hands.

You have the right to a flat stomach. No one can take that away from you, except you, and you certainly don't want to do that to yourself, do you? Decades of struggle have landed us at this point in history, wherein we can obtain diet Fritos and cold Fresca at any filling station. Instead of self-serving your automobile at the gasoline pump and racing back to the rat race, tarry a moment in the luscious aisles of food-based products. Glance longingly at diet foods chemically contrived to contain almost no fat, which would almost certainly end up gracing your stomach anyway.

What you need is, like, beef jerky and low-calorie energy drinks. This stuff tastes almost palatable while offering no challenge to your quest for flatness. Your fat melts away as your metabolic processes and heart rate soar. Your friends and co-workers will deeply respect how you chuckle in the face of educated dietitians. None of us really believes believes diabetes will happen to us.

Should you find yourself flat on your back, I hope you got there while looking up at the ceiling for cracks in the drywall. Resist any urge to bend your knees, interweave your fingers behind your head, clench your abdominal muscles, and lift your shoulder bones toward your knees. Plebeians refer to such capricious activity as a "sit-up."

If you arrive home one day to find your significant other performing such abhorrent duties, trundle back to the diet doughnut store and forget what you saw. You don't need to be subjected to such an experience. We want each other to succeed but not at the expense of muscle contractions and the possibility of sweating.

All good things must come to an end, as does the composition you currently read. I want you to succeed in your quest for reduced belt sizes. Fire up your waist trimmer, pound an energy drink, and don't sit-up. Do not sit-up even one time because sit-ups are like potato chips. If you perform one sit-up you will want to throw up your potato chips. Don't ask me how I know.