If You Want To Be Sexy, You Have To Sweat A Little (Not To Mention Grunt, Groan, and Cry Once In A While)

I have a new physical trainer at my new gym, Gold’s Gym Alabang. His name is Froiland.

He looks something like this, only not as pleasant.

He’s brutal, ripped, and unusually cruel – he makes me do painful, unusual things on machines with such strange names as a “treadmill” and a “stationary bike.”

He’s also brutally frank, and took my vital statistics to prove a point. I’m obviously not in the best of shape, as I’m shaped more like a Coke can than a Coke bottle. (In the meantime, let’s not debate on why a rugged, manly dude such as myself would want to shape like a Coke bottle, to begin with…)

I’m extremely lopsided, based on these numbers. My right side outmeasures my left side by half an inch for most bodyparts.. no wonder my clothes fit funny.

Froiland has his heart set on turning me into the second coming of Ravishing Rick Rude. He says it’s for my health, but I think he just likes the thought of “accidentally” teabagging me as he spots me on my bench press…

My workout is divided into three days. Here’s how Day One (Shoulders & Legs) looks.

He expects me to finish all of these in an hour-and-a-half. Right.

Day Two (Back & Biceps) is slightly easier, but is still a pain to get through. I’ve always had a strong back and biceps though, so I expect I’ll be able to just breeze through this day.

Day 3 is for Chest & Triceps, and looks like the most fun.

The one thing I don’t like from this program (apart from all the cardio, which I really do, but hate every step of the way!) is the little addendum he tacked on at the end. He says I have to do this too, on top of the 3-day split:

I swear to God, it’s a joke asking MDJ Superstar to do such undignified, un-cool things as freaking abdominal crunches. I don’t think I’ve done those in years. But alas, I must obey, despite the unglamorous side effects of doing crunches, such as grunting, groaning, sobbing a little bit inside, and just overall sounding like “a cow with intestinal gas” (based on feedback heard from innocent bystanders).

I no longer want to argue with people that I am in shape – the caveat being that round certainly counts as a shape.

I no longer want to insist that I am just “big-boned” – with the caveat this time being that my stomach simply has a big tummy bone.

I want to be fit, I want to be ripped, and most importantly I want to be loved and wanted for my body more than for my mind.

Because at the end of the day, that’s what being a Superstar is really all about.