Warning: at the end of this blog post, there will be a video of an EXTREME BOOTY WORKOUT. My husband will be doing it. I will be training him. Please watch it and send condolences – he’s gonna need it.
My husband Chris has a great booty. I won’t say it’s the only reason I married him, but hey, if the shoe fits… No, just kidding. I married him for his money. No, just kidding, he was broke when we met. He’s really smart and has really good teeth. It was more of a genetic “I want my children to be as low maintenance and braces free as possible” scenario. Turns out I got just the opposite LOL.
Anyway, he’s lucky he has such a booty because he doesn’t have to work very hard to keep it looking all round and fit the way it does. Sure, as a surgeon, he’s busy; he doesn’t have time to workout as much as he’d like; he sees up to seventy patients in one clinic, yada, yada, yada…
He says he has – and I quote – an “incredible derriere” because he played lots of sports and ran track when he was younger. I mean, there IS proof. He can jump a fence like a ninja – or relative ninja – even as he approaches the big 5-0. Something about muscle memory, and super elastic, soft, unwrinkled skin snapping expertly into place at even the “suggestion” of a workout. Not much of a medical description, but sure.
And no, I’m not bitter because I exercise EVERY day, taking my fitness and health super serious, eating only eggs, avocados, kale, and chicken (day in and day out, day in and day out) even when I’d rather be eating brownies. Because even if I look at treats sideways, within seconds, I inherit some of my aunt Judy’s fat deposits, but whatever.
Every once in a while, Chris will get all self-assured and say, “Hey, I’m going to start working out more regularly,” and then the days and weeks go by, and he hasn’t done anything more than “fast” (read: not eat) from breakfast to lunch on a Monday. It’s then that I have to take charge. Back me into a “you need be the boss” corner like that, and I won’t be held accountable for what I make him do.
Let me just say, after having worked in the fitness industry for almost twenty-five years, I know what is sensible and sustainable, and what is crazy talk. Workouts targeted at specific body parts, waist trainers, Brazilian butt lifts, thigh gaps, collarbone challenges, and “take this magical pill/shake/bar every day for two weeks and your fitness problems will be gone” – that’s all crazy talk. Fitness should be about function. It’s a way of living, NOT a two-month-plunge-into-bootcamp-and-starvation-hell-before-the-wedding-or-high-school-reunion type of deal. It takes time, effort, and dedication like anything else that’s worth doing in this world. Like the ocean polishing a pearl (if pearls are made that way), it takes a whole goddamn lifetime. There are no overnight fixes, no miracle machines, no nothing. Being active should be an integral part of your life, even beyond that sixty minutes in the gym – yeah, it’s living like a pioneer when you don’t have to because you have a car and internet. Healthy living is no easy feat in today’s society, I’ll give you that. And I understand my husband’s plight [tiny violin playing here].
Anyway, when he says he’s going to work out, and then he doesn’t, and he still looks good in a Speedo, I get mad, and bitter, and then my rational fitness brain turns into a monster fitness brain, and I go all “Jillian Michaels” on him. Note: the exercises in the following video are not bad per se. They are actually pretty good, when they are split up and combined with other non-booty exercises. Training just to get those “buns o’ steel” is a little (OK, a lot) shortsighted and airheadish if you ask me, but you likely won’t die from it. You probably just won’t be able to walk the next day. You can ask my husband how it was, because that’s what happened to him [sly smirk]…