I have no idea what I'm doing...


For the last 6 years,
I’ve been having,
A sitting profession.

I work 5 hours a day,
And I sit all the time,
Helping customers,
Filling in paperwork,
Making calls,
All is done,
From a chair behind a desk.

It’s starting to show,
On my belly,
And hips.

My trousers used to be too loose,
I had to pull them up all the time,
Now I have to pull,
Just to get them over my hips.

This would be a perfect excuse,
To update my wardrobe,
Throwing out the old,
And bringing in some new.

But I decided,
That I finally want to try,
To get a sixpack.

It looks cool,
A belly that shows some muscles,
Under a crop-top.

There is just one downside,
The exercises,
You have to do,
To get that six thingy,
Seem to be invented by the devil.

No kidding,
How anyone makes it look easy,
Is beyond me.

You know,
Those superfit girls,
In cool leggings,
Who are super positive,
“Let’s do this for 30 seconds”,
And I’m crying in pain,
After barely five seconds.

It’s all good,
To make me feel like a total loser.

Sport is supposed to make you feel,
More positive,
Happy hormons.

It seems like,
I need them way more,
Then the sixpack.

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