Her tousled blonde hair is barely kept in place by a tricolor headband, and a towel hangs loosely over her shoulder, catching the glint of sweat. Beneath her strained sports bra, her chest swells as if ready to burst, while a soft muffin top rises gently over her waistband— no doubt sculpted by the drumstick in her hand and the bucket she’s carrying. But really, who could blame her? This—this tired moment paired with the perfect reward— might just be the most satisfying taste of all.