I was watching TV the other day when I was reminded of the way a friend of mine keeps In Shape. Do push-ups while you watch TV, he said. So I thought, ok, why not.
But the moment the command 'Do push-ups now' was issued from my brain, my legs gave way, my bowels clenched, my arms spasmed, my heart murmured, my lungs deflated, my kidney shut down.
When I regained my consciousness a while later, I was still propped in the same chair, but with my mouth full of potato chips and my arm on automatic-self-feeding mode. My body, ironically, knows fully how to take care of itself.
The results of my decadent life are apparant enough. When I was being measured for my Presentations costume (because colourful attire distracts from my bad dancing), I was aghast to discover my waist line had ballooned. From a svelte 28 inches in the army, I am now a relative Marshmallow Man at XXX inches.
So I grit my teeth and went out for a run this evening. In fact, I was so pleased with my progress that at one point I whipped off my shirt and literally saw the fat melting away, revealing a systematic arrangement of gleaming abs.
Fate stepped in at this point to check my ego - I noticed this beef cake running in the opposite direction, and my delusions were thus dispelled. When he brushed past me, I swear I saw his abs sneering at mine. My abs were so intimidated they are now under the Witness Protection Program.
The upside to all this is that I started occupying completely new social niches. In fact, for a period of time there were girls who would have chosen me as a partner over Jared... though I didn't need to know that the main impetus was so they could bounce off me if they fell.
I guess things could have been much worse, so I am grateful for all the blessings I have. I may be plump, but at least I'm gorgeous to boot.
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