She had less than a day to pack for their six sunbrella days and sexed up nights. Her man was whisking her off to Hawaii. There was no time for spray tan, to shop, or to diet. So, she took out her vacuum.
“Wanna vacuum with me?”
“Really? You’re that anal before a vacation?” And the carpet looked fine to me. But when she didn’t go digging in the closet, I realized she wasn’t talking about keeping house.
She was mid-pose, leaning forward, bent over a dining room chair. This wasn’t the type of vacuuming they listed in the Weight Watchers activity guide. And yes, they list vacuuming as an activity, but I’m sure they mean The Hoover, not The Maneuver.
“Stephanie, you have to try. They [doing vacuums] do something to your abs. You can’t get this from sit-ups,” she said before a hard exhale, followed by a quick deep suck. It was very ribs, cadaver, loose skin. It wasn’t pretty. “But it works!”
After some practice, you should be able to isolate the muscles, work up to the point where you can “roll” your rolls from side to side (working more muscles than you do with the vertical motion of crunches).
“Who knew all those years of sucking it in were actually good for me?”
“You suck it in, as hard as you can, then hold it, at least until the count of ten.”
We are still talking about exercise, right?
“It’s all about the isolation, woman.”
There was a time in my isolated youth where I took a vacuum cleaner to my stomach thinking, this’ll so break up the fat. Instead, my abdomen resembled a baboon ass gone bad. I tried again, putting the mouth of the vacuum pipe on my neck, hoping for a hickey I could wear to school. I’d say the vacuum was easily on my top-10 appliance list. I was willing to give this new version a go.
Behold The Vacuum:
Later in the evening, as we all slogged our way out of Bouchon, someone threatened to do a vacuum. I realized even the faintest of attempts at sucking anything else in would ultimately require a mop.