In the meantime, until I completely forget all the hometraining that Elsa painstakingly instilled (with a very wide leather belt), I'm sticking with the 42% who don't need physical proof of our ability to turn it out. First and foremost because I genuinely believe memories are the best pictures (isn't it funny how you never remember the cellulite when reminiscing on good times?). But also because, as many of my friends know, I tend to be a bit of an overachiever. Which is fine when you're talking about work and team sports (who doesn't want to win?). But for something like this, not so much. Knowing myself, I'd wind up overanalyzing instead of appreciating the whole act. I can hear myself now: Do you think my back was arched enough? Does that color bra makes me look fat? Are my knees ashy?
Sigh, it's way too much pressure.