Posted December 3 ’12

Dear Readers:

A lot of you have been complaining about your butts.  “Katie, it’s so flat.  What can I do?”  “Katie, it’s spreading.  Help!”  “It jiggles.”  “It sags.”  Calm down people.   And PLEASE stop sending me pictures of your rear-ends.  I know you have a problem and I do have a solution.  You need to relax.  The first step is to take an honest look at your current situation.

Load it in, pack it on, that’s been the story of your life for the past two weeks, right?  Your stomach is full but you’re not satisfied so you keep on eating.  Fill those saddlebags, strap on that spare tire; it’s chilly outside and you’ll deal with this after the first of the year.  At the moment your life revolves around salt and sugar and elasticized waistbands.  I know.  You wake up Monday morning and you’re hung-over, whether you drink or not.  Let’s review the highlights of some of your recent menu items:

Mashed potatoes
Christmas cookies
Warm nuts
Oreo truffles
Candy canes
Peppermint brownie pie
Mincemeat pie (why do you eat that?)
Hot apple cider
Red wine
Hot Toddy
White wine
Hot Peppermint Patty
Mulled Pomegranate Warmer (that’s a holiday drink?)
Hot buttered rum
Hot buttered whisky

Here’s the bad news: that pink grapefruit that you had for breakfast this morning is not going to cut through all this crap. Sorry.

“What about December 21 and the end of the world,” you ask?  Good point.   I’m all for living in the moment and you never know what’s going to happen tomorrow.   But if that’s your position, why are you wasting time reading this message.  Go have another piece of cobbler and enjoy your time on earth.  All I ask is that you stop sending me videos of yourself in your underwear with the question, “Do I look fat?”  Life is about consequences my friend, deal with it and enjoy.

For the rest of you, the first step to conquering this problem is to stop eating.  Completely.  That will put a halt to the expansive spreading of your soft parts and with time should bring you back within the boundaries of your favorite jeans.  Of course, if all you do is starve, your tush is going to end up a wiggly-waggly mess.  That’s where my secret weapon comes in: The Walking Lunge.

I first discovered the wonders of the walking lunge in the midst of writing Chemical Pink.  While working on that book, and all my subsequent endeavors, it wasn’t unusual for me to spend upwards of fourteen hours a day in the saddle, pounding my keyboard, digging deep into my characters, whipping my manuscript into shape.  Even if you’re sitting in an ergonomic, perfectly balanced, anti-bacterial, posture neutral chair, like I do, your caboose is going to take a beating with that kind of extended pressure.  It wasn’t long before I was diagnosed, by my close friend and mentor Charles Glass, as having a bad case of Writer’s Butt.  Writer’s Butt is defined as the flattening and spreading of the gluteus maximus muscle.  Without proper care attention, Writer’s Butt can become a chronic and irreversible condition.  For me, as an ex-bodybuilder, this was simply an unacceptable situation.  Charles prescribed a daily dose of the walking lunge and that did the trick.  It’s been over twelve years and I have not had a relapse.

Start slow, my people.  When you wake up in the morning I want you to lunge into the bathroom to brush your teeth, do your business, get dressed, then lunge into the kitchen where you will skip your breakfast and launch your day with a cup of black coffee.  Throughout your work week, don’t walk, lunge.  Lunge to the post office; lunge in the supermarket.  It’s a perfectly normal and healthy thing to do.  Your friends will probably join you once they notice the incredible changes in your body.  Lunge everywhere. By the time you’re ready to hit the hay each night, you should have the sorest set of buns this side of the equator.  And once you stop getting sore, add some weight.  Carry some dumbbells or a barbell in your car.  Lunge away.  Do this everyday and your problem will be solved.

Go ahead and buy that holiday thong you’ve been thinking about.  Men and women alike, I give you permission. In a couple of weeks you’re going to look great.  All I ask is that you put away the camera.  Seriously, I don’t want to see it any more.   No more butt shots.  I mean it.

Happy Holidays from your helpful friend,

Katie Arnoldi