Ms #fitness

Fi is the unappointed queen of unsolicited fitness and lifestyle advice. Her self-prophesied quest is to #inspire the flabby, soft-bodied peasants that inhabit her impressive social media following. Indoctrinated by the confidence of a “2,000 like” titty-selfie, Fi is ready to give a blow by blow guide to gym technique, diet and superficial life philosophies that apply only to those who consider her endless memes to be holy gospel in the church of fit-bishery.

Fi sits on her bed, racking her mind as to how she can inspire her flock today. She knows a Sunday evening selfie needs to be extra inspiring as most lesser mortals would have indulged in greasy food and booze all weekend. Fi, on the other hand, has enjoyed a solid diet of pre-photographed rabbit food and lines of cocaine off the hairy erections of Perth’s C-list. She decides to upload a selfie of her wearing tight pink leggings and a glorified yellow bra with “SHRED” written across the bust, ”clean living doesn’t take the weekend off #health #fitness #fit #fitnessaddict #fitspo #workout #gym #train #training #healthy #instahealth #healthychoices #active #strong #motivation #determination #lifestyle #getfit #fitgirl.

Of course, Fi mistakes her emitted inspiration with greasy likes from work-toilet masturbaters and friend-zoned gym junkies that yearn for her to provide some additional inspiration in their pants. Her washboard abs netted her an impressive 543 likes, and she is now feeling especially full of her own shit. She decides she should back her selfie up with a random fitness meme with some sage words of advice, “I feel so blessed that my #hardwork and #cleanliving inspire you all to improve yourselves, I am as self-conscious as the rest of you, and posting my #progress can be scary. Always #believe in yourself and maybe one day you can inspire others too”. Fi and her raging ego need to get a fucking room because her unabashed arrogance is putting the rest of us off our chicken nuggets.

The following day, her highness awakens and slides into a skin-tight Lorna Jane outfit that is so colourful it looks like a homosexual kaleidoscope choked on a peacock’s dick and yaked up all over her. She heads down to the gym for her #training session and wrangles a pimply backed meat-axe into filming her on the squat rack. She instructs the walking amino acid to limit his mouth-breathing while she demonstrates her flawless squat technique. Normally, people would pay hundreds of dollars to an experienced personal trainer for such elite knowledge; however, she is giving it all up for free! We, the bottom feeders, are truly #blessed ay.

She uploads her squat video to Instagram and releases the usual #diarrheatic spray of hashtags to help spread her message far and wide. A local personal trainer snaps and decides to take a swing at the queen, “bad technique and personally, I think you aren’t pushing yourself weight-wise”. Fi is enraged that a peasant is criticising her and reacts with all the reasonableness of Tony Abbott at an onion farm, “I uploaded this video to inspire, not to hear people’s mean opinions ok! Get a life you creep!”

Ah, irrational defensiveness, the sign of a true champion Fi.

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