You’re taking a mirror selfie in Equinox. Your biceps are bulging and your glutes are looking strong. Your abs are defined (you’ve taken your top off, natch), so much so you could bounce a penny off them. You look good; feel good. But there, in the corner of your eye, is a treadmill — mocking you, taunting you. You see it and a shudder runs up your spine. It’s a foreign object, untouched and feared.
If this sounds familiar, you may be Hot Girl Fit.
