OK, time to get in shape. Well, maybe I should rephrase that;
everyone has a shape
– let’s say, time to get in better shape.
OK, time to get in shape. Well, maybe I should rephrase that; everyone has a shape – let’s say, time to get in better shape. You know, more pleasing shape, a shape more like the shapes seen on TV, shapes created by people who have lots of time on their hands, a personal trainer or two and millions of green motivations to work out, buff up, slim down and generally beautify themselves for, I believe, the sole purpose of making the rest of us miserable. Even my self-esteem is overweight.
But still, all the doctors say it’s important that we do a lot better job than we’ve been doing of keeping in shape. We’re all gonna get diabetes, we’re all gonna get heart conditions, we’re all gonna lose the ability to tell which shoes we’re wearing, etc. And it’s all too true, but like chubby salmon swimming upstream against an increasingly strong current we’re trying to do a better job of eating and exercising in the face of a world full of enticements for labor-saving devices and deadly food. I mean, the other day my wife and I were recalling the days when our television had no remote control – none at all, not a single clicker. It’s hard to imagine, especially for the young, but we actually had to get up and walk across the room every time we wanted to change channels. That alone probably added a mile a day to my exercise routine. Now you can sample and reject 135 channels for less than a calorie.
And food – fuggetaboudit. More and more kinds of processed pre-prepared meals for the overly rushed who gave up cooking entirely and sold their souls to the microwave. More and better and bigger cookies, more ice cream flavors, Krispy Kreme doughnuts – I mean, just thinking about it; hold on a minute, I have to go get a snack, be right back. It’s totally unfair.
Nonetheless, we must act responsibly despite the diabolical temptations. So last week I took the fat by the horns and bought a bicycle. Yessir, a nice new mountain bike, not that I have any delusions about climbing mountains with it. I might descend one if somebody will give me a ride back up, but climbing, no. This bike is for riding around the neighborhood, putting in a few miles every day, getting the old cardiovascular thing going, gradually, patiently turning myself into Lance Armstrong or maybe two of him, but anyway getting in better shape like I’m supposed to. And let me tell, I was damn proud of myself when I left the bike shop with my new wheels.
And then I realized I would need a helmet. Times have changed since I last rode; now you gotta have a hat. Suddenly, I started noticing all the bike riders and I started noticing their hats – wait a minute, that can’t be the only kind of hat. I mean, I ain’t gonna put no little plastic spaceship on my head, those things are beyond ridiculous. People are riding along at jogging speed and they’re wearing these aerodynamic mushroom-caps from Hell all stretched out in back like they were going warp three. Come on, there must be something shaped at least vaguely like the human head it goes on, right?
Nope, they’re all like that. I stood there in the shop for most of an hour trying on one goofy, dorky, embarrassing polyurethane chapeau after another until I began to have panic attacks when I approached the mirror. I tell ya, some design sadist in the bicycle industry is laughing up his sleeve big-time about how they’ve managed to make everybody look bull-goose stupid in the name of healthy exercise. But what are ya gonna do – gotta have a hat. So I bought one and now I’m gonna have to wear it. In public. While riding a bicycle. I feel like a circus act.
Like I said, we all need to get in better shape. But why does every part of it have to be so hard?
