Good evening and welcome to the late evening edition of Everything In Paradise, brought to you by the Bagpipes currently featured on ABC Jazz and the fact that V could not hear my desperate pleas for help from the bedroom and the remote control was too far away.
I am sore. Sore due to the fact that the Personal Trainer who has made it possible for their to be every so slightly less of Jeanie in Paradise than there was several months ago is soon to be leaving, and the last opportunity to be tortured at her hands was this evening.
Now, when I say less of me, that is not to say that there is a darned sight more of me than is the vogue in her troupe of sweaty ladies, but I feel I serve a particular purpose in the group. Sure, I may be the bar below which they do not dare fall - but I am also that member against whom they can all favourably compare.
I am also sore because there was a split nanosecond when a fragment caught within a bathroom mirror evoked a glimpse of hotness that has been unconscionably quashed by Facebooked photographic evidence of oozing rolls of hotness wrapped around the Jeanie-core.
Still - with the art of photoshop* I could just have it prove my theory
* and too tight - it is really a Paint job.