Last night I was watching The Biggest Loser on tv, when they dropped the bombshell of all bombshells. The show is coming to do a local version in Australia. As if that weren't exciting enough, the two trainers from the original US show will be here to scream, cajole and get all intense on the contestants' asses.
So I need to put on like hundreds of pounds fast. I need to get up close and sweaty with trainer Bob, the sexy Nashville accented, lean and lanky, tattoo'd streak of hotness that he is. I need Bob to take me in hand, show me some discipline and make me work for it. After weeks of wimpering and whining, of hollering and hooting, and enduring the embarassment of shirtless weigh-ins on a scale big enough for an elephant (and yet oddly slow to calculate my weight after swinging up and down until after the commercial break) I will then reward him with an ugly duckling to swan like transformation. Bob will love me.
I'm off to programme my speed dial for Domino's.