Monday, January 7, 2013

On Being a Tremendous Pansy

Feel the mild, slightly spicy warming sensation.
I've gotten upset over the last week as, after every meal, my stomach seemingly distends outward, granting me what appears to be a "gut." I do not like this. I like being so skinny any and all muscle matter I have is clearly defined, all without that disgusting thing I hear about called "effort."

But, it occurs to me that if I start working out now that it's Winter, by the time I get bored again, it'll be Summer, and there is a much higher chance of sexy ladies being impressed with how I look shirtless if the weather and associated recreational activities are more amenable to walking around sans-overthings.

You see, I weighed myself the other day, after weeks of living more by, "I can't have fast food two days in a row," more than actual nutrition, and I had gained five pounds. This is, quite sadly, a not-insignificant percentage thereof. Much to my satisfaction, I them caught a week-long cold, and promptly lost all that weight, but the impetus has set in. I need to start lifting a little and doing sit-ups again. I don't care if I'm healthy, or strong, mind you; I just need to look good.

Case in point:

I pre-made some sandwiches and salads and ravioli this past week, and did eight minutes of sit-ups and crunches last night. Now I look toned again. That was it. Fitness trainers would loathe me. However, today I went bowling and I feel like I got hit by a small economy-class car. Bowling. It was eight games of all-you-can-bowl from 12:30 to 4, so alright, I swung a 12lb kettle iron about a hundred reps, but my wrist and back leg feel like they're trapped in tar and I just feel like that says quite a lot about my overall physical abilities right now.

I'll blame it on repetitive stress motions, but I'm going to get yelled at by my doctor when I finally get around to making an appointment in the coming weeks.

Seem to have cured my own ingrown toenail, though, so your move, healthy people.

No comments :

Post a Comment