am a crappy, crappy a sad, pulls, as I said. It's something I mortified but I think I can not do anything about it. You can not go against genetics. I
people at the gym dressed in black leggings, brown shirts, red shirt and green fleece with pink collar. Looking at my picture in the mirrored wall I wonder why the hell I am colorblind full time: If I leave the house without realizing that look like a clown, what he would stay in the destitution other times. Not just that, just through the door of my home, magically recover the aesthetic criteria, just to see me is mortified at eachpejo in each window, in the eyes of my peers. My coach Slavic
sticks a bony finger in my belly and calls me "cierrra ribs, dentrro abdomen, navel contrra back, bending, bending, bending!". I bite my tongue not to say where the finger can get skinny and try to concentrate while repositions my position over and over again, pierce the pleats as the witch of Hansel and Gretel story. I wonder who can close and open his ribs at will and why is it that I've never seen anyone with the navel marcándosele kidneys. She gives me a breather while going to answer the phone. Observedresigned my image to the back of the room. The reflection clarito tells me: "give it up, baby, you can not go against nature, I have to gain"
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