Let's face it: To make rent and keep ourselves afloat in cocktails and skinny jeans, we have to plant our collective butts in seats and desk jockey. This means hour upon hour spent hunched over a keyboard while our backsides expand. Even as someone who works from home, I'm aware of the seemingly growing landmass south of my waistline. Because as much as most of us would like our electric-fence collars to let us to work out at lunch and take long walks with our friends while talking about the last episode of Scandal -- alas, they just don't reach that far.


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