Here I go again traversing the hills of the newly reformed couch potatoes: I joined a gym. Normally this is an after Christmas tradition for many, but I valiantly pushed it out until March. The decision was actually quite selfish for I wanted to wait for the huddled masses of New Year Eve’ resolution wannabes to stop blocking my access to the elliptical trainer and go away. “But I’m going to do it this time!” No you are not, please step aside and let me work.
It’s been 5 years since I was last in my work-out mode and to the unfamiliar I may appear to be one of the aforementioned masses, but I assure you I am not. I have motivation, I have a goal, and I have a plan. No it is not just an idealistic goal of becoming healthier. Pfft, where is the fun in that? That won’t get my ass on the trainer. Just try bragging about your heart rate to someone at a cocktail party and watch them chew off their own arm just to break free. I have something much better- I have plastic surgery waiting for me. Ha, ha! Didn’t see that one coming did ya? That’s right I’m toiling my evenings in the gym for surgery. See I’m quite comfortable with my body in its current form. Skinnier I would look even better, but that’s not my incentive and that won’t keep me going. Nope, I do this because I want a face lift when I’m 45. The way I see it if you begin early enough then the difference won’t be so dramatic that everyone, (and I mean everyone), is talking about your face. I want subtle and the way to get that is to start early. Recently I've noticed the beginnings of drooping cheeks, jowls if you will, which run in my family on the women's side. Well for the men too but who cares about them. I don't want to have these flapping in the wind at age 60, I want those lifted and tucked away from the public eye. However before I can do this I first must lose the extra weight. If I got the lift first then anything I lose later would give me the look of being caught in a NASA wind tunnel. Joan Rivers I am not. Please. Anyway I really am comfortable with this decision and don’t see the big deal about it. Kids get braces to fix jacked up rodentia teeth and braces are a medical treatment that rarely has anything to do with necessity and a lot to do with vanity so I don’t see how a face-lift is different. People are judged on their appearance and for me keeping my cheeks off of my clavicle is what I choose. Either that or duct tape, but I’m thinking the silver would clash with my gold jewelry and that just won’t do. I hear the outcry, “But anesthesia is dangerous you might die.” Yes, I might and I might also die in a car crash, a plane crash, choking on a double chocolate cake or at a 70% off sale at Macy’s but you don’t see me fighting my way to the exit for safety. No way (bitch, give me those pants) life is dangerous and if not lived to the point of enjoyment why even bother. A quote from Shawshank Redemption and one I particularly love is: “Get busy living or get busy dying.” and I plan to do the former and forget about the latter. I don’t have time for death, haven’t you seen my calendar? Now if you’ll excuse me I have a treadmill to conquer. Vive la résistance à la pesanteur!
It’s been 5 years since I was last in my work-out mode and to the unfamiliar I may appear to be one of the aforementioned masses, but I assure you I am not. I have motivation, I have a goal, and I have a plan. No it is not just an idealistic goal of becoming healthier. Pfft, where is the fun in that? That won’t get my ass on the trainer. Just try bragging about your heart rate to someone at a cocktail party and watch them chew off their own arm just to break free. I have something much better- I have plastic surgery waiting for me. Ha, ha! Didn’t see that one coming did ya? That’s right I’m toiling my evenings in the gym for surgery. See I’m quite comfortable with my body in its current form. Skinnier I would look even better, but that’s not my incentive and that won’t keep me going. Nope, I do this because I want a face lift when I’m 45. The way I see it if you begin early enough then the difference won’t be so dramatic that everyone, (and I mean everyone), is talking about your face. I want subtle and the way to get that is to start early. Recently I've noticed the beginnings of drooping cheeks, jowls if you will, which run in my family on the women's side. Well for the men too but who cares about them. I don't want to have these flapping in the wind at age 60, I want those lifted and tucked away from the public eye. However before I can do this I first must lose the extra weight. If I got the lift first then anything I lose later would give me the look of being caught in a NASA wind tunnel. Joan Rivers I am not. Please. Anyway I really am comfortable with this decision and don’t see the big deal about it. Kids get braces to fix jacked up rodentia teeth and braces are a medical treatment that rarely has anything to do with necessity and a lot to do with vanity so I don’t see how a face-lift is different. People are judged on their appearance and for me keeping my cheeks off of my clavicle is what I choose. Either that or duct tape, but I’m thinking the silver would clash with my gold jewelry and that just won’t do. I hear the outcry, “But anesthesia is dangerous you might die.” Yes, I might and I might also die in a car crash, a plane crash, choking on a double chocolate cake or at a 70% off sale at Macy’s but you don’t see me fighting my way to the exit for safety. No way (bitch, give me those pants) life is dangerous and if not lived to the point of enjoyment why even bother. A quote from Shawshank Redemption and one I particularly love is: “Get busy living or get busy dying.” and I plan to do the former and forget about the latter. I don’t have time for death, haven’t you seen my calendar? Now if you’ll excuse me I have a treadmill to conquer. Vive la résistance à la pesanteur!
1 comment:
The recovery pics will haunt you. Muahahahaha
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