The drama of the Rio butt

Anyone who diligently reads everything on Amayzine.com knows that I booked a ticket to Rio de Janeiro a month and a half ago to celebrate New Year's Eve there. There are few things that depress me more than Christmas and New Year's Eve, but I have a suspicion that those days will be just fine when you celebrate them in the Brazilian sun. So after booking came the searching, and after searching came the squatting. What? Yes, because with my Dutch butt, I really can't gain weight, so the idea was to grow bulletproof Rio butt.

Together with Jet, I have boxing lessons twice a week in the morning, so our trainer immediately got the task to make me squat and lunge until I cried and do whatever else. Between the moment of booking and the moment of departure, there were almost three months, so it had to work out perfectly. Full of enthusiasm, I installed all kinds of home workout apps on my iPhone, I intended to drastically change my diet, so in short, everything was focused on a Brazilian beach body.

Full of enthusiasm, I installed all kinds of home workout apps on my iPhone, I intended to drastically change my diet, so in short, everything was focused on a Brazilian beach body.

However, the first signs of weakness appeared quite quickly. A party on Wednesday meant that I canceled Thursday's training, a press trip a birthday, another party – there were many things that got in the way. But, I remained optimistic and crossed off each morning in my agenda because every night of sleep was one night closer to Rio and my corresponding butt.

But in the last few weeks, our trainer wasn't feeling well, we were sick a few times, things came up again, and everything resulted in my death sentence that came this morning: our trainer is quitting. Something about health and time, and all in all, I no longer have a trainer. No! Trainer! And thus, no butt. Guys, this is going completely wrong.

Something about health and time, and all in all, I no longer have a trainer. No! Trainer!
And thus, no butt.
Guys, this is going completely wrong.

Because I really don't have the discipline to squat for an hour next to my bed every morning at 07:00. And I really don't have the discipline to sweat for an hour in the gym after work when I can also flip through dumb television in my warm house on the couch. In short, I need a trainer and I'm considering setting up some kind of The Muscle of Holland to find my ideal trainer. Someone who doesn't listen to my whining and just forces me to do all those push-ups and burpees. Someone who knows the perfect recipe for Rio butt in three weeks and who can let me strut my stuff on the Brazilian beach all fit and well. My gratitude is, just like my butt later, immense.

In short, I need a trainer and I'm considering setting up some kind of The Muscle of Holland to find my ideal trainer. Someone who doesn't listen to my whining and just forces me to do all those push-ups and burpees.