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Open
contempt for those in better shape
is the first step to a healthier you
Like millions of Americans, I
recently stripped down, prepared myself for the worst,
and stepped onto the scale. Soon after, I retrieved the
scale from the front yard and accepted the fact that,
yes — it probably was defective. At my wife’s
suggestion, I tried our neighbor’s scale. This led to
the discovery that, of the 23 scales I tested within a
five-mile radius of our home, every single one was off
by exactly 11 pounds. Being a journalist, I had to
wonder: Was this a widespread problem? Were we being
duped into needless exercise by faulty scales?
I immediately brought this
to the attention of my editor, who, realizing the
implications, told me to stay out of his candy drawer.
The truth is, I have
no one but myself to blame for putting on these extra
pounds. This is why, every year around this time, people
just like me make a commitment to start going to the
gym. I know this because I recognize most of these
people from last year. We all have the same expression:
grim determination mixed with a sense of purpose in
knowing that, afterward, there’s a KFC right across
the street. We come dressed with headbands and towels
over our shoulders even though we spend most of our time
wandering around the gym looking for water bottles.
After making this
realization, I was motivated to do things differently
this time. Never again would I splash water on my face,
then stand close enough to someone to appear as though
we are workout partners. It was time to get serious
about fitness by accepting the fact that the closest
I’ll ever get to having buns of steel is if I happen
to leave the bread box open overnight. I’m nearly 40,
married, and have two children; what do I need washboard
abs for when I know perfectly well that my wife gets
more turned on by me doing the laundry?
With these things in
mind, I put together a list of goals that will motivate
me because they’re actually achievable.
First, buns of steel
are out. Instead, I will settle for buns of aluminum
foil; as long as they can hold their shape and don’t
leak, I’m happy.
Second, I understand
that my metabolism is slowing down and that, as a
result, my body’s fuel-burning efficiency is similar
to a Humvee. Unless I’m careful, I will also weigh as
much as a Humvee and require a government subsidy just
so I can fill up with gas.
Third, I will no
longer waste my time comparing my body with anyone
else’s, especially if theirs is better. This should
make my workouts twice as productive since I will be
avoiding eye contact with everyone else at the gym.
And finally, I will
stop using the scale as my measure of success.
What’s the point,
really?
They’re all wrong
anyway.
011404
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Ned
Hickson is a member of the National Society of
Newspaper Columnists, and an award-winning humor
columnist for the Siuslaw News in Florence, Oregon.
His weekly column appears throughout the Northwest,
as well as in Michigan, Connecticut, Georgia,
Tennessee and Alabama. He lives on the coast with
his wife, two children, and entirely too many
seagulls.
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