P90X arrived this week, in a white box marked up like a tabloid confessional: EXTREME FITNESS! BEST BODY! ALIEN BOOTY! (ok maybe not that one.) I got a sly upraised eyebrow from the sleek, trim woman who delivered the box to my desk. For some reason I would have been more comfortable if the box had been labeled WU-HOO, VIBRATORS AND LUBE!
that's because i am, like most skeptics, dismissive of the miriad weight loss and fitness regimes offered via every possible media outlet. call 'em FastBuck Fitness for Suckers, because anyone with a half-assed or big-assed idea can sell a weight loss program.
why did i plunk down the dough for P90X? this big-assed idea: muscle confusion. i am fit enough to have experienced fast physical development leveling off in a frustrating plateau. P90X is designed to mix it up, keeping the muscles as confused as Monty Python's cat, preventing the muscle-memory plateau.
sucker or savant? either way, i think this is gonna hurt.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Damn the box
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