I don’t know if you’ve been following my articles on the P90X workout – maybe you have, maybe not. To recap quickly in case you missed them: my girl told me in no uncertain terms a few months back that it was high time I got off my padded butt and did something about the spare tire round my midriff and the love handles on my hips. Of course, I told her it wasn’t my fault I was getting flabby an’ wobbly in all the wrong places. Secondly, I told her it was really none of her business either.

Well, if you’re a guy, and you’ve got a girl, then you’ll know straight off that I was skating on dangerously thin ice with both those statements. It was my fault, she yelled – too much junk food, beer, an’ lying around watching TV! Secondly, (and this one hurt) it was her business cause she was my girl! But lately she’d been thinking that maybe it shouldn’t be her business anymore and she could make that happen at any time by just walking right out the door and never looking back! The choice was mine, she said.

Ouch! That hurt.

And then, the final thrust of the sword to my heart: “Look at your best friend! He’s been doing this P90X workout thingy and just look at how sexy he’s become. Why can’t you be like him?”

That was the worst cut of all. Let me tell you a little secret right here and now: It’s not only us guys who like the look of a sexy gal. No, sir. These days girls’ heads are just as easily turned by the look of a sexy guy. And in their book what’s more sexy that a guy with ripped muscles and a well defined six pack? I mean, if you were a girl, and you had the choice between 2 guys to go out with, who would you choose: Mr Out-of-breath Beer-Belly-Flab with burger sauce on his chin, or Mr Sexy Six-Pack with the big smile who’s bouncing around and can’t sit still for more than 5 minutes because he’s just got too much energy? It’s a no-brainer, right?

So I took the challenge and signed up for the P90X workout. Why? Because my best buddy was prancing around like Mr Universe after just 60 days of following their workout and nutrition plan. Okay, I’ll grant you my buddy wasn’t quite as badly in shape as I was when he started out but, underneath all my doughy flab, I knew I actually had a better physique than my buddy. It was just kinda buried under all that blurry fat.

That’s when I made a secret pact with myself: I was going to sign up for the P90X plan, and I was going to work my butt off. And after 90 days I was gonna have a body that would knock the socks off my prancing big shot buddy. And, oh yeah, the best part? I was going to win back the respect of my girl.

Sure, it was a tall order. And yeah, it was hard work. But you know what? – the P90X workout does work! And I’ve got the body to prove it. Did I end up having a better physique than my buddy after following the workout and nutrition plan for 3 consecutive months? You bet your cotton socks I did! And did I get my girl’s respect back? Too dang right! These days she looks at me in a whole new light – like she’s seeing me for the first time, know what I mean?

Oh yeah, I almost forgot – the superhero thing. I was so chuffed with my new body that on Day 90 of my workout, I celebrated by going out to one of those rent-a-costume places and rented me a body-hugging Spiderman suit. That night when my girl came round, I was reclining on the bed all casual like, lounging in my tight fitting red and blue superhero spandex outfit – which left absolutely nothing to the imagination, if you catch my drift. She took one look at me and let out a little gasp of shock. Suddenly her eyes narrowed, her cheeks flushed, and her lips parted. “I prefer you in your birthday suit,” she said, voice all quivery and husky and breathless.

“Shall I turn off the lights?” I said, knowing exactly where this was going. She shook her head and bit her lip. “Ooh no, I want the lights on. Definitely on!”

You know what, I’ve just been thinking…. I don’t want to make any crazy claims or give unrealistic guarantees. For example, I can’t guarantee that you’ll end up wearing a superhero spandex suit and that your girl – or your wife – will end up practically ripping the clothes from your bod