![]() ![]() Hoof it all the way to the lab enough times at a dead sprint, and anyone could develop some stomach definition. ![]() Thank goodness for my early-morning late runs, which was me running because I was late for work, early in the morning. I removed the sleeves and shortened the hem, and when I put it back on, it was a lacy, cropped tank top. What I was, though, was logical and functional, and I couldn’t cut my pants off, so the shirt would have to do. I wasn’t even entirely sure what that phrase meant. I pulled, tore, hacked, decimating what had once been a beautiful creation, I supposed. I heaved it off, tried not to take a whiff of it, and I yanked on the sleeve. ![]() I couldn’t remember when I bought it, where I bought it, or if I’d ever worn it. I needed to muster up my inner Tim Gunn and work some magic, because I was going to sweat myself to death out there. ![]()
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