*This post is sponsored by Dietbet* and approved by, um... me.
(Because "Being Fit" is one of my #39things.)
Roo and I stood knee deep in a swimming pool deciding which parts of our bodies we would put together to build the perfect female form. This is a thing women do. Trust me. (I have two sisters and we've been verbally dissecting each other in order to Frankenstein a single spectacular body using the best of our combined parts for as long as I can remember.) These conversations are always good humored; less a declaration of self-loathing and more an acknowledgment of our
jealousy deep admiration for the things God did with another
women's DNA. So as we stood there in our bikinis, Roo and I
imagineered ourselves into a long, lean, sculpted woman, with a nice
tan, perky lady business, and no body hair. Oh, and visible collar
bones, because that's very important.
Roo and I have spent almost two entire weeks together in the last year – I'm pretty sure I've spent more consecutive hours with her than I have with even my closest friends. Together, we've shared dozens of meals and nearly as many public restrooms. We've danced at a rave, danced at a club, danced on the street, danced in a mall, and also danced in, on, or around more than a few hotel lobbies, beaches, sidewalks, taxis, shopping malls, coffee shops, trains, elevators, passenger vans, and creepy Red Light Districts. I've seen Roo laugh and cry and twerk and barf on the side of the road... thankfully, not all on the same day. ...Actually, not all in the same country. ...Weirdly, never even in the U.S.
Yeah. I've never hung out with Roo in America.
Isn't that weird? We first met in Guatemala and then in SE Asia, but never here in the good ol' U.S. of A. (I don't even know what to say about that, except maybe, “Welcome to my life. It's always like this.”)
We live on opposite coasts, so our friendship spans the width of this great country …which we've never met in.
Ok. Anyway. What was I saying?...
...Oh, yeah, I was saying: We're not fat, but neither of us is super pleased with our bodies. (…Omg. Just go with it, ok? Writing is hard.)
But, when we were at the pool eating cheesy bacon fries, we talked about how it's possible we indulge in things like, say, cheesy bacon fries a little too often. It's possible that we sit on our butts
clicking in circles on the internet working on
our computers for too many hours a day, so now our muscles are made
out of gravy and pizza. And, it's possible that we both need a little
extra motivation to get our asses in gear, tighten everything up,
exchange fat for firm, so that next time we meet in a foreign
country, our imaginary Frankenbabe will be unbeatable.
That's when Roo said, “Hey! Let's host a Dietbet!”
And I was all, “I don't believe in diets.”, but she couldn't understand me because my mouth was full of cheese fries.
Then she went on to explain what a Dietbet is, and I was totally on board, because I am highly motived by two things in life; vanity and money.
Just kidding. Sort of. But not really.
I mean, I am motivated by those things, but I'm also motivated by community, camaraderie, and just a smidge of competition.
So here's the Dietbet deal:
The more men and women we can tell, invite, convince, coerce, beg, trick, demand to join us, the bigger the pot. HOW COOL IS THAT?! I can get on board with exchanging my small belly for a big payout.
So we're doing it.
We're combining my Very Worst Missionary army with Roo's SemiProper fleet to host
I'm dead serious.
I honestly think this is gonna be awesome and I'm fully committed to taking an entire month of cheese fries with bacon to prove it!
Our bet begins on Monday, September 15th! Here's the link to join. (Use the hashtag #theveryworstdietbet on all your sweaty pics, hangry tweets, and FB diet lamentations, so we can find you and encourage you to keep going!)
*This post is sponsored by Dietbet* and approved by, um,... me.