The first few months in China have turned me into a chainsmoking, fat, lazy, sleep-deprived alcoholic (sort of)...
While some of the party animals out there might argue that there's nothing wrong with that, my dear flatmate got an entirely different opinion on this matter. He stepped up and put an end to all this by deciding that my body needed reshaping. Now.
So he volunteered to become my personal trainer. I wonder whether I should consider this a gift from heaven or a severe nightmare. Now six-pack-Paolo is breathing down my neck at least three times a week. "C'mon Matt, let's go to the gym!".
Maybe I should have done more careful analysis before picking him as my flatmate. How could I know, I'd end up living with a sports-maniac who works out daily in the gym.
Well, let's hope the pain is worth it and I'll return back home from China looking like Brad Pitt in his best years!
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