The Opposite of a Love Letter

Week 7, days 1 & 2

"Hatred is the coward's revenge for being intimidated."  - George Bernard Shaw
"A true man hates noone."- Napoleon Bonaparte

Dear Tony,

Here's the thing. Julie and I have clearly been off our schedule, but still doing all the workouts, sometimes out of order. I started Monday with Legs and Back (way out of order, leftover from week 6) and worked the hardest ever on my ocks de la butt; Julie concurs, as she did her LB over the weekend. We hurt. Then, Tuesday, we jumped right into week 7 with the first video of the series, gearin' to go for a week straight. I chimed, hey, we've always improved and dominated each week, this will be great; it's the third one, the series is almost over! As you very well know, the first video of this series is the dreaded CBT (chest back triceps), about which I wrote loud, angry poetry and talked about sandwiches the first week; Julie wrote hell the second week. Well, this week, I write murder. No poetry, just straight-up heinous despise. It wasn't "great," and I didn't kill it, not even close to the first time I did it! But I sure feel like I could kill the inventor of this funny little workout ( that would be you, Tcat). Don't worry, I got tons out of it, I pushed through the pain. This leads me back to my ongoing my theory, that I shared in an earlier entry, about how this plays into muscle confusion. Not only are we confused, we're also improving as we simply learn and as we get it down pat, work even harder, working harder = we improve and feel it more- should be a happy cycle, but it's getting vicious. We've added "tired" into that mix. Tony, I'm tired! And then you kick us while we're down, like a mean boyfriend who changes the channel and hides the remote, by making us do Plyometrics on day 2! I have much love for the jumps, I've already told you, but man alive it kicked my A tonight. Julie and I feel so hateful, so much hate! Hate hate hate hate, neener neener NEEEENERRR! And no, I'm not intimidated, George. I'm also not a man, so I can hate whomever I want to, Napoleon, BOO. So THERE! AHHH!

Tony, baby, don't hurt me. Don't hurt me no more.

Sincerely,
Your ex-fan.



EDIT::
For you readers: During clapping pushups, Tony launches his ENTIRE body off the floor. I mean, Tony, stop that. Wipe that face off your head. Quit being a show-off. We hate you right now (but we secretly want to make out with you after we watch you fly into the air like that). Lovehatelovehate.

Love,
The Rancorously Amorous Secretary