Abs Fitness Quotes

At this stage in The Total Money Makeover, you are the Mr. Universe of Money, with serious abs, pecs, and quads. You have all this financial muscle, so now you should do something intentional with it. It is not just to look at. We built this financial superbody for a reason. To have FUN, INVEST, and GIVE.

The great anxious focus on the minutiae of appetite—on calories and portion size and what's going into the body versus what's being expended, on shoes and hair and abs of steel—keeps the larger, more fearsome questions of desire blurred and out of focus. American women spend approximately $1 million every hour on cosmetics. This may or may not say something about female vanity, but it certainly says something about female energy, where it is and is not focused. Easier to worry about the body than the soul, easier to fit the self into the narrow slots of identity our culture offers to women than to create one...that allows for the expression of all passions, the satisfaction of all appetites. The great preoccupation with things like food and shopping and appearance, in turn, is less of a genuine focus on hunger—indulging it, understanding it, making decisions about it—than it is a monumental distraction from hunger.

75% Eats 25% Feats

As we’re bombarded daily with new ads for pills, diets and ab-doers, we have to protect our wallets and our time.

Behind every successful person is a relentless work ethic, the ability to block out distractions, and a well-defined six-pack of self-control. Find creative ways to work your self-control and keep making it stronger. Unlike your abs, this muscle needs to be fit even during the winter, so get to work.

If you’re a guy, the mystical secret to a sexy stomach is to get your body fat percentage under 12%. Yup, that’s it. When your body fat percentage approaches 10%, your abs become clearly visible whether you directly train them or not. If you’re a woman, getting your body fat percentage under 20% will get you a flat, lean, toned stomach. That’s all there is to it

Sirens blasted, breaking the silence and spinning me around. The shrill sound was all too familiar, and I snapped into action. Vicious excitement replaced the restlessness, and I knew just how screwed up that was, but right then? Oh yeah, I could use a fight. Yesterday in the quad had been child’s play. Grabbing the Glock loaded with titanium bullets, I hooked it into the holster and fit it around my thigh. I snatched the daggers off the dresser and headed out the door, not even bothering with grabbing a shirt. I came to a complete stop as Josie’s door swung open. What in the holy fuck were Alex and Josie doing together? For just a few seconds, the three of us were literally frozen, staring at each other as the sirens blared overhead. And then Alex broke the silence. “Really?” she said dryly, eyeing me with a smirk. “You’re going to fight with the awesomeness of your six-pack as a weapon?” I arched a brow. “Yeah, you know, I was going to test out the whole abs of steel theory thing. The gun attached to my thigh and the daggers in my hands are just props. Mainly for show. Don’t want to take away from the gloriousness that is my body, though.” Her smirk flipped into a grin. “Whatever.” She started forward. Up ahead, a tall figure stepped out in the hall, and light glinted off the titanium daggers in his hands. Aiden. Of course their room had to be close to mine. Of. Course.

He doesn’t have to face anything here. And I get it. Sometimes, we all need to hide. “When the world feels small, nothing can hurt you.” I caress his stomach, feeling his abs flex under my hand. “You want to stay there because you’re protected. For a while anyway.” I stare off, thinking about him and me and how I hid inside myself all those years because I didn’t want to be rejected anymore or hurt. “But then you realize you’re the only one who fits there in that small world, and being alone feels worse than not feeling safe.

I meant what I said about sex.” His hand slid all the way up her leg, pushing what little skirt was still covering her out of the way, holding it in a bunch at her belly button. Her nudity was fully exposed to his gaze and he looked his fill, breathing out hard. “Who said anything about sex?” He leaned in, his mouth dropping to the pale slice of skin between where his hand held her skirt and the thatch of hair between her legs. She wasn’t trimmed as was the fashion among the women he usually took to his bed but Troy was not a fussy guy and here, under the stars, his head filling with the musky scent of her arousal, au naturel seemed fitting. The ragged pant of her breathing stuttered into the air as he lazily stroked his tongue down. Down. Down. Down. She roused. Shifted. Raised herself up on her elbows, her abs tightening, her thighs tensing. “I think you’ll find that still counts,” she said, obviously throwing one last-ditch effort into denying herself the pleasure she so clearly craved. He chuckled low, his warm breath fanning her belly, satisfied to feel gooseflesh stippling the soft skin. “If you think this is sex, you need to read some more textbooks, doc.

I hope at 50 I'll be dancing like Gianluca Vacchi Party, whiskey, Bellini, Martini, Bloody Maries Bad & Boujee, Tutti Fruity booty, type that really moves me Kundalini rising, energy fill me completely I hope at 50 I'll be writing books like JK Rowling Pen and paper take me places, countries far and foreign Find a cafe up in Edinburgh, write in Scotland Let the stories in my head come out, bloom and blossom I hope at 50
I'll be wealthy like Carlos Slim Buying yachts and mansions and my mother shiny things Encrusted diamond dial on a new Patek Philippe Chill in Maldives but do charity in Ardabil I hope at 50
I'll be funny like Stephen Colbert Cracking witty jokes, making everyone laugh in tears Laughter it goes round and round like a carousel Chronic comic sonic sounds of haha everywhere I hope at 50
I'll be stoic like Robert De Niro Zeno school of thought put an end to my evil ego I hope at 50
I'll be fit as The Rock, Dwayne Johnson Hard rock abs to be paired with an even harder mindset I hope at 50,
I'll be wise like Denzel Washington
Wisdom, knowledge and the faith of God under my skin I hope at 50,
I'll find real love like George Clooney
Amal Alamuddin clone is the type that really moves me

Truth or dare,” I ask, my voice edgy with anticipation and yearning. I know he’ll answer dare – and it will be the last one I give him. “Dare.” “Fuck me,” I beg. He immediately rolls over, gently resting his body on top of mine. I spread my legs, positioning his trim waist and hips in between my thighs. The hard outline of his cock grazes the front of my panties, sending my eyes rolling into the back of my head. He slides his hands under the covers. His fingers sneak under the waistband of my panties. He sits up to slowly glide them down my legs, revealing body in the moonlight. He tosses them, dripping wet, by the side of the bed and the then slides off his tight briefs. His erect cock stands at attention once removed from its fabric confines, pulsing up and down in rhythm with Cole’s racing heartbeat. With the covers now cast to the side, Cole leans over me, devouring my lips. My lips open and I yield him my tongue, which he handles adroitly, flicking it with his own and sucking it with his lips. He leans over to the side of the bed and bends down, picking up his shorts. The movement of his body over mine sends the peaks of his deeply sculpted abs gliding across my soft skin, generating a shiver that trembles through my body. He pulls out his wallet from his shorts pocket and extracts a condom. He kneels on the bed and works the condom down the expansive length of his solid shaft. He imposes his body back over mine, covering me with his huge torso. The length of his cock rests against my warm pussy, throbbing against it. I wrap my legs around his waist and lock my ankles together, pulling him closer toward me. His rough, masculine scent fills my nostrils. He kisses my neck, the light stubble on the side of his check rubbing against my skin. I buck my hips toward him, pressing his cock against me. The bottom of his shaft rests on my warm opening, the tip extends up to my belly button. A delicious anxiousness overtakes me. Will I really be able to fit all of him inside me? “Fuck, Emma, you’re so sexy,” he moans while raking his lips and tongue up and down my neck. He nibbles lightly on my earlobe, his hot, staggered breath brushing against the side of my face. “I want you inside me,” I pant to him. He lifts his hips up and steadies his cock at the precipice of my slick center. He looks me in the eye, and I nod, imploring him to plunge inside me. He does. I shut my eyes as a brief wave of pain washes over me, the shock of accommodating his massive size inside. It soon subsides and my body comfortably accustomed itself to his presence. He slowly pumps in and out of me. I bite down on my bottom lip, waves of pleasure erupting from my center and traversing every inch of my body. My stomach is in knots and my breath is quick and sharp. Every time he lifts his hips to thrust out, my wet cavern craves for him to come back – and he immediately does, pushing himself back in, the length of his shaft rubbing against my insides, the friction driving me wild with ecstasy. I lose track of time as he continues to thrust in and out. I buck my hips against him, hungry for his full length. I tighten my grip with my legs around his waist, greedy for his body to press against mine. “Fuck, Emma, shit,” he moans. I can only respond with unarticulated moans of pleasure and gasps for breath. “Oh, fuck, Cole, I’m gonna come,” I announce. I shut my eyes tight and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him into me. He thrusts one more time, strongly, and my orgasm erupts. Pulses of pleasure shoot up and down my spine and turn my insides, my chest beats and my heartrate booms against my eardrums. The outside world disappears as I feel my body melting into Cole’s. Cole collapses next to me, a sheen of sweat glistening over his body in the moonlight, highlighting the twists and turns of his musculature. Slowly the world comes back into focus and a blissful

Barre is results-driven and appearance-based—it’s got the cultishness of CrossFit or a boot-camp class, but with looks, not strength, as its primary goal. It’s not a pastime, like going to a dance class or taking a lap swim, because the fun you are pursuing mostly comes after the class and not within it. In barre class, I often feel like my body is a race car that I’m servicing dispassionately in the pit—tuning up arms and then legs and then butt and then abs, and then there’s a quick stretch and I’m back on the track, zooming.

am 100% committed to following the Badass plan. ________ I will “show up” for myself for 21 days of this program and do exactly what the plan recommends. ________ I will get rid of tempting foods in my house, and I will replace them with nutritious ones. ________ I will prioritize my health and fitness from this day forward. ________ I will make body-honoring choices, day by day. ________ I agree that the plan is a lifestyle that I’m developing, not something I pick up and put down when I need it. ________ I understand that to take care of my body is to nurture the most valuable physical resource I have.

Thanks to many hours on the farm spent plowing and tilling, I am quite fit for a twenty-one-year-old boy with nice abs,

The sound of Alex revving his motorcycle brings my attention back to him. “Don’t be afraid of what they think.” I take in the sight of him, from his ripped jeans and leather jacket to the red and black bandana he just tied on top of his head. His gang colors. I should be terrified. Then I remember how he was with Shelley yesterday. To hell with it. I shift my book bag around to my back and straddle his motorcycle. “Hold on tight,” he says, pulling my hands around his waist. The simple feel of his strong hands resting on top of mine is intensely intimate. I wonder if he’s feeling these emotions, too, but dismiss the thought. Alex Fuentes is a hard guy. Experienced. The mere touch of hands isn’t going to make his stomach flutter. He deliberately brushes the tips of his fingers over mine before reaching for the handlebars. Oh. My. God. What am I getting myself into? As we speed away from the school parking lot, I grab Alex’s rock-hard abs tighter. The sped of the motorcycle scares me. I feel light-headed, like I’m riding a roller coaster with no lap bar. The motorcycle stops at a red light. I lean back. I hear him chuckle when he guns the engine once more as the light turns green. I clutch his waist and bury my face in his back. When he finally stops and puts the kickstand down, I survey my surroundings. I’ve never been on his street. The homes are so…small. Most are one level. A cat can’t fit in the space between them. As hard as I try to fight it, sorrow settles in the pit of my stomach. My house is at least seven, maybe even eight or nine times Alex’s home’s size. I know this side of town is poor, but… “This was a mistake,” Alex says. “I’ll take you home.” “Why?” “Among other things, the look of disgust on your face.” “I’m not disgusted. I guess I feel sorry--” “Don’t ever pity me,” he warns. “I’m poor, not homeless.” “Then are you going to invite me in? The guys across the street are gawking at the white girl.” “Actually, around here you’re a ‘snow girl.’” “I hate snow,” I say. His lips quirk up into a grin. “Not for the weather, querida. For your snow-white skin. Just follow me and don’t stare at the neighbors, even if they stare at you.

You don’t necessarily have to find your exact idea on Amazon.  It’s good to have something unique to offer the marketplace.  But it’s important to know if similar ideas sell well.   For instance, let’s say you’re in the fitness and nutrition tips for women market.  You’re not sure if this topic has a readership in the digital platform.  So you’ll hop over to Amazon.com to see what sells.   What you find is a variety of titles that sell (at least) 10+ copies each day: ** 1 Day Diet (#8,598) ** Running Sucks (#4,626) ** Flat Belly Diet (#10,823) ** The New Abs Diet for Women (#8,910) ** Six Weeks to Sleeveless and Sexy (#9,973) All these ideas are geared towards the fitness/nutrition for women market.  So this is good evidence that people are buying this kind of information.  Step #4: Find a Hook for Your Book Right now, you might have a single great idea or you might have a bunch of different topics.  What you need to do next is to take each idea and find an angle that will help it sell. It’s not enough to write about a benefit (i.e.: lose weight, get a girl, start a business).  Instead you want a compelling title that grabs people’s attention.  What you want is a “hook.” A hook is the desired outcome the reader receives when he or she applies what you teach.  Done correctly, the hook is an elevator pitch that explains your core concept in a punchy sentence.  Personally, I think it’s important to find your hook before you write your book.  That way you’ll have a rough idea of what information to include.  A hook can include a number of factors: ** An attention grabber (Running Sucks, Super Brain, Why Men Love Bitches) ** A benefit-driven title (Getting Things Done, How to Win Friends and Influence People, Love Yourself Like Your Life Depends on It) ** A time-specific result (4-Hour Work Week, The 17-Day Diet, 21 Days to a More Disciplined Life) ** A numbered list of content (21 Prayers of Gratitude, How to Make Him Beg to Be Your Boyfriend in 6 Simple Steps, 52 Small Changes) ** A keyword-specific title (Make Money Online, How to Lose Weight Fast, Get a Girlfriend) You can use more than one hook. Some people combine a few to come up with an interesting title. EXAMPLE: Last month I published an eBook titled: My Blog Traffic Sucks!  8 Simple Steps to Get 100,000 Visitors without Working 8 Days a Week. This was a unique hook because it had multiple factors in the title: ** An attention grabber (My Blog Traffic Sucks!)

Purse your lips like you’re trying to blow out a candle and when you exhale, pull your belly button in toward your spine by contracting your abs. Use your hand to feel this motion. This will force all of the used air out of the bottom of your lungs.

Curves, Clothes, Character (The Sonnet) Your abs won't last, your racks won't last, Eventually everything ends up in wrinkle. Polish the outside all you want but, All curves are crookery if the heart is wrinkled. Slimness is not the same as fitness, Skinship is not the same as kinship. Etiquettes don't elevate the world, Apparels don't bring liberty and leadership. Waste not the life on measuring your waist, All waist is waste if the backbone is malnourished. Fitness is fiction when shallowness runs rampant, All curves are filth if the being remains prejudiced. Curves and clothes have no bearing on character whatsoever. Better a character out of shape, than a shape without character.

Your abs won't last, your racks won't last, Eventually everything ends up in wrinkle. Polish the outside all you want but, All curves are crookery if the heart is wrinkled.

Underleft-Overleft Strike with an underleft to the opponent's lead knee. On impact, suddenly redirect the strike into an overleft. Like swinging a sledgehammer, slide your left hand up to help relaunch the weapon. The big stick is heavy enough that you don't want to try to redirect it upward with just your wrists. Overleft-Left Knee Begin with the weapon in left high guard. Throw an overleft strike. Upon contact, draw the stick back to re-chamber it in left high guard. Be aware though, that when you recover from a strike and attempt to re-chamber or reload, you are vulnerable to a counterattack. Keep in mind that a common short stick strategy is to get you to commit to a strike, then charge into close range after you've swung. Perhaps an attacker intends to tackle you—his strategy may be to draw your high strike, such as an overleft, then burst in low to take you down. As the stick comes back to the left shoulder, use this momentum as a counterbalance to throw the left knee. Do not throw an upward knee, which is weak. Instead, throw the Thai knee, in which the knee travels forward, moving parallel to the ground. An important tip is to throw the hip forward, tilting your torso back as you throw the left knee. This has the added benefit of developing your abs and core when you train. The knee is among the most devastating of weapons against the tackler because he tends to run into the knee face-first.

So, my program develops the entire spectrum of physical skills: Muscular Strength, Muscular Endurance, Cardiovascular Endurance, Power, Speed, Coordination, Balance, and Flexibility. The degree to which you possess these eight physical qualities defines your level of fitness. It is only by focusing on these seven skills, rather than appearance, that you will make your best gains, in ability, well-being, and in appearance. The washboard stomachs, big chests, round shoulders, and shirt-sleeve-stretching biceps of my men are testament to that, as are the toned legs, tight triceps and abs of the women I’ve trained.

hello -------------------------------------------- signature United People Money >>> To Buy Farm 1 Donum >>> Refugee Camp انا الجامع 25,000 $ X 200 people = 5 million ------------------------------------ Vision Board = 1- my mentor is : David DeAngelo = Eben Pagan 2- ENCYCLOPEDIA OF TAEKWON-DO 15 VOLUME 3- ANIME jap [ MODEL ] 4- 6 ABS + TOTAL FITNESS ---------------------------------- CURRENCY = 1-MONEY 2-WORK 3-TIME ( TIME = SLEEP TIME ) PERSUADE people to get to there RESULT = 1-FAST 2- EASY 3- LOW COST 4- LOW RISK ################################################ unitedfarm@protonmail.com Syria Damascus

The rise of the 9.9 percent, I argue, accounts for the paradox of a nation where well-toned abs are an obsession even while pre-existing conditions multiply at pandemic levels, where billionaires look like fitness trainers while the average life expectancy declines. It is the fundamental reason why the nation with the most expensive health care system in the known universe is among the least able to protect its public health. Inequality disrupts progress by distorting our ideas about the only kind of well-being that actually matters, or about actual human prosperity.

We hear all the time about how important it is to be physically fit. Our society has become ultra-focused on fitness and health. Our Facebook feeds are filled with seven-minute workouts. There are YouTube videos galore on seven days to rock-hard abs. The radio plays ads to lose ten pounds in ten days, but only if you call in the next ten minutes. Even the president told us to be physically fit. Remember the Presidential Physical Fitness Test in elementary school? A quick shuttle run, the dreaded flexed arm hang. It tested strength, endurance, flexibility, and agility. All different ways to prove we were physically fit. Or not. As a matter of fact, Americans now spend more on fitness than on college tuition.1 Over a lifetime, the average American spends more than $100,000 on things like gym memberships, supplements, exercise equipment, and personal training.2 Seems shocking, right? But where are the training programs for the thoughts in your head? Those thoughts that tell you that you have no choices when bad things happen. Those thoughts that try to convince you everything is out of your control in difficult situations. Where do you go if you want to be Thoughtfully Fit? Right here in this book.

Get a light dumbbell, say ten pounds for an average lady and two to three times as much for a gentleman, and do one arm snatches two to three times a week followed by ab work and back and hamstring stretches. Do as much as you can stand; the sets, reps, and rest periods are up to you. Just make sure to have your heart checked beforehand and slowly ease into the program. And do not forget to synchronize your breathing with your movement, otherwise you will wilt in no time flat.

WORKOUT #1 1. Double arm swing to warm up. –x20 2. Military press (strict). –x10 3. Clean and push press. –x10 4. Cleans. –x10 5. One arm side press. –x5 (each side) 6. Overhead one arm squats. –x10 7. Lunges. –x20 8. Sumo deadlifts. –x20-50 9. Wrestler’s bridge press. –x10 10. Turkish get ups. –x5 (each side) 11. Janda or Ab Pavelizer situps. 12. Chin up ladders. –alternate with a partner. The circuit is done with no rest between exercises for one set of the above repetitions with kettlebells that weight about 23.6 kilograms or 52 pounds each. The workout is under 15.00 and I attempt to lessen the time every workout. Zack and Steve Maxwell are ready to take on their kettlebells.

Whatever you like. Mikki has us on a pretty strict diet, but Mikki isn’t here right now.” “What’s the diet for?” she asked absently, picking up the room phone. “The muscles you’re always drooling over

THINKING THAT ALL PT'S SHOULD HAVE ABS IS LIKE THINKING ALL MILLIONAIRES SHOULD DRIVE FERRARI'S

He wasn't wearing a shirt. Alert, alert! August Hodges was not wearing a shirt. Her greedy eyes inhaled the wall of delicious flesh that defined his magnificent back. Muscles rippled in perfect synchronized motions as he lifted his arm. Scrumptious, delicious brown skin her lips and tongue longed to taste. Dampness instantly settled between her legs. She must have made a whimper full of intense hunger, or maybe he just sensed he was no longer alone--- and she was going to go with the second, less embarrassing option--- because he turned. Holy fuck! The front was better than the back. He was a professional athlete who took his fitness seriously (even though he owned a cupcake shop franchise), so she shouldn't be shocked by how fucking good he looked. But it was one thing to be intellectually aware of something and another to be confronted with it up close and personal. A quick perusal registered an eight-pack. A trail of hair bisected his abs and led to... She jerked her eyes upward. His eyebrows lifted. "Sloane?" His tone was amused. No doubt her tongue was hanging out her mouth like a dog eagerly tracking the bowl of water its parent carried. Dignity. She needed to find it, and soon. She lifted a hand as he reached for the teal Sugar Blitz polo on his desk. Let a mocking, flirty smile spread across her lips. "Please stop on my behalf." He shot her a look. "I do so appreciate being treated like a piece of meat." The finest, rarest cut of beef. Filet mignon.

Grae was right. There were so many people in the shadows that stretched out over the horizon, people like me who wanted to claim their life, their destinies with two hands, just as Vellia had once told me to do. I couldn’t shrink myself down like I had in Taigos anymore. I needed to live bigger, louder, until my people believed they could, too. I knew being merem might never get easier, but I would get stronger until every single person in my court never felt the shame of trying to control themselves into ab box that never fit. I would make this court better than the one I inherited even if I had to die all over again trying.