I have a friend who, having started an exercise regime a couple years ago, is in love with her new-found muscles.
“Here,” she grunts, pushing her belly forward, “Punch me. Feel those muscles. Go ahead. Punch me.”
Who can pass up such a situation? Lots of people, as it turns out. No one wants to punch a woman in the stomach, even if she is specifically requesting it and pushing her tensed muscles toward you.
OK. It’s not a friend of mine. It’s me. And I sheepishly acknowledge that, having rediscovered my physical self two years ago, I may have flexed for a few people.
See, I’ve always been good at exercising my brain, but my body? Left to my own devices, I am not the woman to go running the paths around the lakes. I admire those people, I’ve wanted to be one of those people, but running? Like being chased by two puppies in a gunny sack, if you follow my meaning.
Which got me to thinking.
Is there a card for this, for people in the throes of changing how they see themselves?
“Congratulations on having discovered your body! I hope you two are very happy together.” And then you open it up. “Now stop challenging me to drunken push-ups.”
I’m not the only one, of course. I honestly did have a friend who used to show me how her personal coach made her do lunges. There she’d be, showing me her lunges, lunging from one end of the yard to the other, demonstrating how her thigh is parallel to the ground, when to inhale, when to exhale.
So yes. I am aware of how dull “check out my new muscles” can be; and I’ve personally declared, here and publicly, that enough is enough.
I hereby recognize and concede that I will no longer – even when drunk! – challenge people to The Arm-Wrestling Champeenship of the World.
Which is why I think there should be a card involved. You know, just to get it out of the way, a formal acknowledgement that yes, cool that you’re working out; yes, I see that your pants are looser; yes, your egg-white-and-wheat-germ omelet recipe sounds intriguing; and yes, they’re doing wonderful things with soy these days.
Outside of the card: “I hear you’re not eating gluten!” Inside of the card: “Can I have it?”
You know, I’m just full of ideas, all day long.
I’m not saying they’re good ideas. I’m just saying I’m full of them.
Oh, and the iPod's predictions for the weekend? Having not been on the bus this week, I've not been listening to my iPod -- however! Here's what would have come up, if I had. Make of it what you will!
Jesus Built My Hotrod by Ministry
Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger by Daft Punk
Rock and Roll (Could Never Hip Hop Like This) by Handsome Boy Modeling School
Kiss, Kiss by Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs
Atomic Dog by George Clinton
Magic Bus by The Who
Oh No by Gogol Bordello
11 hours ago