Dear P90X,
You didn't hurt me as much this week; thank you for that. I'm hoping I can easily walk more than fifty yards at a stretch tomorrow. That alone would make this week better than last week.

Dear sweat dripping from my face down to my big belly,
My belly is perfectly cool. In fact, it may even be cold. You can stop dripping down there now.

Dear Kenpo X back kicks,
You make my legs hurt. You make my standing knee feel like it's going to buckle. You make my flailing leg feel stupid and ineffectual. If I were actually trying to kick someone behind me, I'm sure they would laugh as my floppy foot bounced off their shin and I fell down. You also make my hips seem glued together. The hip is supposed to be a ball & socket joint; mine is like a ball & thing-clamped-to-ball joint.

Dear Kenpo X back kicks performed by Tony Horton,
You look like the cover to Karate Kid (the new one), and that makes me sad. Tony talks about how he's not really that flexible. He's a dirty liar.

Dear Pull-up bar,61ND1uNfnxL._SS400_
Go f*** yourself... You know why.

Dear Plyometrics (and everything else that makes me jump up),
My house is made of wood. This is a natural ingredient of some houses and it's not meant to withstand the constant punishment of a fully Americanized 21st century adult body bouncing up and down. P90X is giving me the opportunity to have the best, most ripped body of my entire life, but I will still need a place to stay after that. It's not like I can just walk up to a new house, take off my shirt, and have people invite me to stay with them. So when I'm jumping up and down, and the TV begins to shake, and then I notice pictures on the walls start to shift, I'm thinking you don't have my house's best interests at heart. Please don't make me break through the floor. Then I'd have to "Bring It" all the way from the cellar back up to the TV set, and that makes me sad.

Dear Chair dips,
The next time I'm at a fancy dinner party and someone drops a napkin, I'll probably bend at the waist to pick it up. I don't need to grip the seat with my hands and lower myself down to the floor. I know that's not the point, but I'm just sayin'.

Dear Pain in my side,
You normally only show up after spending all day at the lake swimming. Please go away until then.

Dear Week 3,
Heads up.

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