My Steamy Story: An imagined ASMR PSA content from an ang...

My Story Time:

Okay, so I’m Lexi, and no cap, I’m about to spill the tea on my most iconic, high-key secret weapon for staying shredded. I’m perched on this public gym toilet, leggings scrunched down mid-thigh, back straight AF like I’m about to deadlift. My hands are folded on my bare thighs, and I’m just… HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. I’m whispering it, but the rage is real, bestie. This toilet isn’t a bathroom break; it’s my secondary gym for my intestines, period.

I’m staring into my camera, giving main character energy, and I’m like, “You think squats are hard? This is the real discipline.” I picture every plop and every fart as a gunshot taking out a target, a queen piece slaying the entire chessboard. It’s my beach volleyball spike, my power move. Then my phone buzzes. It’s my boyfriend, a total simp, texting “my queen.” Oof, the rage and love mix and I’m like, “Yasss, king, watch me win.” I channel all that spicy energy, every bit of anger from my spy missions and photoshoots, and I push. It’s the fiercest workout of the day, sheesh. This is how I clap back at my limits. This is how a queen truly reigns.