Listen, it's not that I hate my abs. I actually respect them immensely and that's why I keep them cushioned under several layers of padding.
But with T-shirt weather just around the corner, it's time to take my stomach out of hibernation. Using the latest technological advancements, I have six weeks to turn back to the clock to the time when I had a waist like Calista Flockhart.
I pay a visit to Dr. Marina Vashkevich at Toronto's Med V Spa who uses the latest "Reaction" technology to start the process of cellular death in my abdominal fat cells. It involves a handpiece that uses suction and radiofrequency waves to chase away excess fat. To expedite, I request we tune into a frequency playing Justin Bieber.
Dr. Vashkevich works through the lower stomach in order to cause shrinkage. When one pass goes a bit low, I pray we're not in for an episode of "Honey I shrunk the penis".
Encouragingly, I've graduated to a new level on the machine. Afterwards, I am left with minor red circles resembling prom night hickeys. What previously felt like a first date with an overzealous Dirt Devil now feels like I'm being worked over by an oversexed octopus.
To speed up the process of looking like one of the Olsen twins, Dr. Vashkevich introduces the latest in needle-free Mesotherapy, a process by which amino acids, vitamins and minerals are released into subcutaneous fat using electrical currents. I am informed this is the latest in Nobel Prize-winning technology. As another fat cell dies, my hope for the future of the human race joins suit.
I have successfully lost a total of seven pounds. I haven't seen this sort of rapid weight loss since I ordered from Taco Bell and expelled several of the organs in my lower gastrointestinal tract. I've grown so comfortable with the fat-shrinking process that I begin to educate Dr. Vashkevich on what I ate that afternoon and hope she can zap it while it's still moving into my throat.
After six treatments my blood circulation has improved to the point where the radiofrequency technology can penetrate the lowest dermal layer. This is great news for Dr. Vashkevich, vampires, or any salesperson who approaches me. Most importantly, my stomach is the firmest it has been in years exposing upper abs which might qualify me as an understudy for a geriatric version of Chippendales.
In the absence of a crack cocaine-only breakfast, my usual weight loss formula is simply to watch what the contestants are doing before joining The Biggest Loser -- and do the opposite of that.
After six weeks of treatment, I am steps closer to my goal, but if I want to look as sinewy as my fitness inspiration I'm going to have to look beyond romantic sessions with a vacuum hose.