I’m a skeptic. I would’ve never done this if it weren’t for Chelsie. And, of course, to see it for myself. I still can’t believe it. I mean, I believe it ‘cause it happened and all, it’s just…
Let me start from the beginning.
My mom gave me her stomach pooch. I don’t blame her or nothing, it’s just that it’s pretty obvious it runs in the family. Which is fine and all, cause it never really bothered me. Until recently.
I turned 41 in August and figured I’d treat myself to a birthday present. Lord knows Frankie wasn’t ‘bout to run out and get me what I wanted. I love the guy, but he isn’t the mind reading type. I tell him, “Just don’t you worry. I got it.” His face. You should’ve seen the relief. He’s like, “Whatever you want Arlene.” God love him.
So I go to the mall and find these really cute pair of jeans. Perfect for going out on the weekends. Don’t tell Frankie, but I spent more than I normally would. Anyways, I get home and they don’t fit. I’m not talking snug don’t fit, like new jeans can be. You know how you have to wear ‘em a few times and break ‘em in. No. I’m telling you THEY…DON’T…FIT.
My pooch got bigger.
This really got to me. So I did the diet. You know the one, all protein, no carbs, and I drop a few pounds. And I’m feeling pretty good about myself…until I tried the jeans on again. I lost weight, but it wasn’t in the pooch. Those jeans weren’t budgin’.
I’m figuring at this point just take ‘em back. Why beat yourself up, Arlene. It wasn’t meant to be. This is where Chelsie comes in. She’s in accounting. I’m telling her ‘bout the whole deal, and she’s like, “You heard of Soco Shaping? They took care of my love handles.” She then proceeds to tell me all ‘bout her “bits above her hips” and how they froze them away.
I’m laughing, right? Because I think Chelsie’s joking with me. ‘Cept, she’s not joking. She’s serious. She’s an accountant. So I Google it, and read all these success stories. And, I don’t know. It’s just, Chelsie’s as honest as they come.
So I did it. What Frankie don’t know won’t hurt him. You know what I mean, ladies?
The next day I tell Chelsie that it ain’t gonna work. It was too easy. Took less than two hours. I was in and out. Now, Chelsie’s the one laughing at me. She says, “Don’t be such a skeptic. Just give it a couple months.”
I only needed one.
Thirty days later, my new jeans fit me. At sixty days, they were actually loose. Frankie even said to me that I was looking good. I told him to get over himself, but really, it was sweet of him.
So yeah, it worked. Soco Shaping shrunk my pooch.