My friend Anastacia Beaverhausen* always said exercise was dangerous. And now I know she’s right.
In an effort to detox** during the week and stop socially drinking so much, I agreed to the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Stupider than every man I’ve ever dated. Stupider than the time I ate the custard tarts. Stupider than the time I accidentally told my boss he was an idiot. EVEN stupider than the time I got on a train in Hong Kong without my friends, a map, or knowing where I was supposed to be going, all because I was impatient and could see a tiny space into which I could squeeze.
Yep, I’ve done some stupid things. None more so than Disco. Boxing.
In theory, it sounded good (just like communism and carb-free pasta). A Monday night devoted to exercise with friends, on a rooftop in the valley, to give…
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