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She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not: Tish vs. The Push-Up

Just like we did last year, each FBG is sharing what she loves and doesn’t love so much in this special “She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not” series as part of Love Yo’Self Week. Feel the love!


Dear Push-Up,

I’ve messed with your butt for a long, damn time. And after all this time, I’ve learned one thing about you: you’re forgetful as all get out. I swear I go a week or two without playing with you and BAM! It’s like we’ve never met before. You force me to start back at day one. I have to go back to a modified position. You make my arms jello-like again. You bring me pain and remind me how frickin’ needy you are. Therefore, I shall attempt to do another round of She Love Me, She Loves Me Not—but I have a feeling you’re going to end up with more negatives than positives. But that’s just because, as I type, my arms hurt because of you. (I apparently have an excellent memory.)

She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not: Push-ups

She loves me: I love how cut I look when in push-up position. Anything that helps the guns…

She loves me not: I hate it that after a week or so off, you’ve forgotten all the dang work I’ve put in. Back to modified? Damn you!

She loves me: I love when I get back into a groove, and I can actually do my four rounds of 10 without breaking a sweat.

She loves me not: I hate when my butt and hips start to dip down, and I’ve wasted the good you’re supposed to do.

She loves me: I love when I graduate from modified to regular push-ups.

She loves me not: I hate that at that unmodified point, I can only do a couple of push-ups whereas I can pump those bad girls out on my knees.

She loves me: I love how you motivate me to keep going. You’re one of those workout moves that symbolize strength and badass-ness. Every time Gwen gets on stage and starts pounding push-ups out, out I drool. You’re the ultimate test.

Okay, so it’s a love/hate relationship. There’s no turning my back on you; constant TLC is needed, but if you give me those arms I’ve always wanted, then I’ll follow you, dearest push-up, into the sunset for as long as I can push up and come down!



Where are you on the push-up scale? Are you a modifier like me? Have you graduated to regular? How many can you pump out? —Tish

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