There's this thing about exercising daily or nightly. Even if you can't see the weight melting off or the inches dropping, it makes you feel good. It gives you a sense of power and might usually reserved for invisible deities.
If you don't feel good about yourself, physically at least, you tend to wear clothes that reflect that. Baggy sweatshirts, baggy pants, the whole sloppy look. You may walk with your head down or stand with your arms crossed in front of you, reflecting the fact that you don't like the way you are looking at the moment.
But when you work those abs, all that changes. After a week on the abslide and doing various attempts at weight lifting and knee-damaging exercise, I looked in the mirror and realized...I have tits. Not only do I have tits, but I have cleavage.
Now, keep in mind that I wasn't fat before I started exercising. I just felt out of shape, not toned right. Ok, I could stand to lose a few pounds, especially noted when someone mistook me for J.Lo from behind. But I was always wearing loose shirts and baggy jeans because I wasn't comfortable in anything else.
Armed with my new found glory, I dug through my closet for the clothes I used to wear when I was a sexy bitch. Well, when I pretended I was a sexy bitch. I found a nice low cut black knit shirt. My black pants that are made out of some material that clings to my skin yet flows at the same time. A nice dainty black sweater to top it off.
I went to work in this outfit yesterday. I didn't walk with my head down or my arms in front of me. I stood tall (as tall as a short person can stand) and walked, even sauntered down the hallways of my office building. I may have even pulled a Shakira and started shaking my ass at some point. And I showed off my tits. Yep, I did. And it paid off.
Fuck the feminists. Every once in a while, it sure feels good to be objectified. Stroke my ego, baby.