I went to go work out one time about four years ago. I put on a medium sized Under Armor shirt (it was a little tight around the belly), drank four whole Rockstar Energy Drinks (I need my good carbs and energy, yo) and went out to kick ass and take names. I got on the treadmill for about four minutes and threw up. I gave up and did a few reps of the bench press before dropping the weights on my chest and breaking my booby bones. My pathetic cries for help went unanswered for the three hours that I emitted them and I was finally able to escape by rolling the bar off my body. When I left, I was five times as sweaty as these pictures of Julianne Hough are, but for some reason when she does it, it's really kind of hot and sexy. When I walk around sweaty and in my Under Armor everyone freaks out and runs the other way. Double standards, man.
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