Because the invisible hand of American capitalism always seems to be playing with America's invisible balls, Instagram butt selfie queen Jen Selter's byline now sits atop a New York Post fitness column. Unrelated: burn your MFA.
Selter's inaugural column, which unfortunately is called "I gave my mom a six pack for Mothers Day" instead of "Busting Ass," is all about how her mother now has better abs than she does, simply by following a few simple steps that anyone can repeat from fitness magazines they bought at an airport Hudson News.
Step one: Stop eating junk food literally all the time.
According to Selter, the reason her mother wasn't in perfect butt selfie shape was because she was eating junk food literally all the time.
For lunch, she used to pick at things. Chips, pasta, salads. Whatever. It wasn't a full-on fat-girl diet, but it wasn't super healthy or clean. [...]
Dinner has gone from cheeseburgers at 10 p.m. to salads or chicken burgers we take out from Whole Foods. It's important not to eat too late, so we try to have our last meal at 7 p.m.
My mom used to snack on Oreos all day long or have a big sundae for dessert.
Oh. Was Jen's mom... confused about why her body wasn't a musclebound temple to the gods of athleticism? Did Jen waltz in there and say, MOM! I'VE DISCOVERED YOUR PROBLEM! and Jen's mom, mouth full of Oreos and cheeseburgers, shouts WHAT IS IT?! DEAR GOD PLEASE TELL ME YOU'VE BEEN ABLE TO FIGURE IT OUT! and Jen says, EAT HEALTHY FOOD! and then her mother, so relieved to finally have answers but also so dumbfounded that the end of her quest lie in the Instagram-sharpened mind of her own daughter, breaks down into grateful tears? I sure hope so.
Step two: Move around sometimes.
Jen then made her mom start going to the gym a few times a week and do some cool lifty twisty exercises. Their cardio is walking.
We supplement our gym sessions with walking. And lots of it. We average about 2.5 miles a day and use a fitness app to track our steps. The other day, I told my mom I wanted to get a cab, and she said, "No, we're walking!" It's cool that she's so into it.
Step three: Focus on your mom's ass.
Jen and her mom haven't gotten around to focusing on Jen's mom's ass yet, but it's in the pipeline. So to speak.
And we haven't even gotten to her butt yet. That's our next project. We're going to have fun. I'm going to take a before photo, which I wish I did more of with my whole fitness makeover. It's going to be fun to see it plump up and show the results to everyone on Instagram (@mamaselter).
Nothing creepy about making your mother's butt your project. Nothing creepy about that at all.
According to Selter, her physique has nothing to do with genetics. Conveniently, this quote is placed very close to an image of Jen Selter standing next to her mother, who looks a lot like an older Jen Selter because that's how genetics work — your parents hand you a set of traits that can manifest in different ways depending on an extent to personal choices and environment, and you kind of have to play the hand you're dealt. Nothing. To. Do. With. Genetics.
Look: I'm all for working out and bully for Jen Selter, Jen Selter's mom, and both of their asses for really living the American dream. But ultimately, the only way to be ass twins with Jen Selter is to be lucky enough to have Jen Selter's genetic makeup. And no series of easy-to-master gym exercises detailed in a Post column can change that.