Hilary Swank Is Better Than You. And Me. And Well, Everyone.

@hilaryswank

I am killing it at the gym.  KILLING IT.  I have gone full OCD freakshow with my commitment to physique.  I am chugging down plant protein shakes. Mark, my personal trainer, is beating the ever loving crap out of me.  I cardio. I yoga. I lift. I look good. However, this was not the case a year ago.  Oh honey, no.  Let’s flashback to the day I got Swanked.

My psycho workout routine fell off hard over the last two years.  I traveled, replaced Mark with tacos, and stopped wearing belts. During the first session he kept saying, “We’ll get it back,” which I simply translated into “My god woman, what have you done?!”  

He raked my doughy butt over the coals until I thought I would hurl.  I was taking a break from swimming in my very own sweat pool when I saw her.  Hilary Swank.  The Million Dollar Baby was working out next to me and she was in billion dollar form.  

Shit.

Hilary

Tossing balls and being awesome!

Cat

Praying for death or doughnuts...whichever comes first.

Picture it…Los Angeles…Equinox…January 2017.  Hilary looked as though she was genuinely thrilled for the opportunity to bang out a thousand burpees while I was hoping that the lycra in my Lulus would hold.  I was cry-sweating from my eyeballs as she tossed around giant man weights. To make matters worse we were wearing the exact same outfit.  Even our ponytail height was on par.  Someone should have slapped me with a sticker that read, “BEFORE.”

Let me break it down for you.

I caught her looking at me with abject pity.  Please do not underestimate the motivation that comes from being publicly pitied by a movie star boxing champion and her rock hard bod.  Welcome to achievement through mortification.

Cut to 12 months later.  

Today, Mark, the raging mental patient that he is, rigged up some kind of crude sled and had me drag it around the gym until my ovaries ached. I’ve seen Hil drag this sled.  She could win the Iditarod.  Solo.  I’m not winning any prizes but I did drag the sled to Mark’s satisfaction.  So let me say thank you to the goddess of Swank, her tight tight hiney, and the tsunami of humiliation she sent my way.  Hilary, you are my fitness spirit animal!

Follow the Swankiness @hilaryswank on Instagram.  And follow me @theretireddebutante to see if I survive.

PS I miss tacos.