It’s a celebrity before and after with a crucial difference – and it’s kind of an obvious one.
I almost did something really shitty this morning.
I almost sent this photo to my partner:
You see, I got carried away on a tide of enthusiasm for the ridiculous hotness of LARRY. Yes, friends, Larry Emdur. A man who, until several months ago, had the bumbling, unthreatening appeal of a, well, a game-show host, but has suddenly emerged from some kind of gym-weights-skinless-chicken-filled crysalis to be, you know, HOT.
Woah, I thought, my man has a big birthday coming up. Maybe he’d like to be inspired by what you can still achieve if you commit yourself. Maybe he’d like to know it’s never too late to shake off the bad habits, to return to your youthful glory, to be the best you can be…
And as my finger hovered over my phone, I suddenly remembered myself.
Because what AM I? A monster?
Imagine, for a moment, what would happen if my partner had sent me this picture, for, you know, my own inspiration.