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Friday, September 28, 2012

Fit at Forty

No secret that in mere months my sorry ass will hit the big 4-0.  It's not a big deal really.   Anyone who reads this blog regularly knows there is zero chance I will actually act my age.  That will become really clear next week at the M83 concert in Montclair.  Nothing says pathetic more than a 40 something bobbing and weaving near stage with a bunch of 18 year olds at a synth heavy Frenchman's gig.

I'm reminded of what my wife overheard in a concert's ladies room not long ago.

Girl X:  "I'm leaving.   There are, like, 30 year olds here."  Hehe.

I likes what I likes.  Age should not be relevant in doing what you love.

That said, it would good if there was a long, productive and healthy future ahead of me.  Which is why, after a brief hiatus I have joined a gym again.  Truth be told a client's harsh words a few months back helped kick it into gear.

Me:  "How are you today?  Good to see you."

Client:  Middle aged Asian woman I had not seen in about 3 years.  She is tiny, maybe 80 pounds, yet looks as if she could bring you down with one quick strike, or worse:  "Oh my God you got so fat!"

No "Hello."  No, "I'm good, thanks, how bout you?"  Arent't those the standard responses to my greeting?  Even if I was, say 10-15 pounds heavier, can't you work that in subtly?  Maybe a drink or two first?

Right into it!  "You're fat.  You look like crap.  You will be dead soon."  Is it too broad a stereotype to suggest Asian woman have as much social filters as say, toddlers?  Is that kind of forthright dialogue progressive and maybe we are all just candy asses?

Least that's what I heard.  I walked the City that day like Terry Fox through Canada.  It was a hot August afternoon my friends, wait, sorry.

You get the point.  That was a hard right cross to my french fry, ice cream, and beer loving mouth.

So I boldly re-enter the world of over tanned faces and spandex.  Three or four days a week (way optimistic schedule that is!) the treadmill, and weights, and steam baths, and smoothies will act as new friends (read:enemies.)

Because the truth is the whole gym thing does not suit me.  No one wants to see me efforting to "jog" 30 minutes at 4mph.  No one should have to!  And don't get me started about my sit ups.  Feeble to put it bluntly.   Oh, and those weights?  The older ladies in spin class can be overheard giggling about them.  "Look at him covering the number on those barbells...  you know they are 20, not 50 pounds."

And apparently a dress code is in effect.  Whatever it is, I don't have it.  Lycra on a man?  No.  Short shorts?  No.  Tank tops?  What am I, Fredo Corleone?  No way I am buying neon sneakers at a month's membership cost either.  Cargo shorts, concert T's and antiquated cross trainer's sounds about right.

Let's not discuss the locker room either.  Ugh!  Bad enough I have to see my naked body on occasion...  Now others??!!!

There really is no other way.  My client was right, in a way.  My weight has gone up.  Add in some thyroid issues that are lingering and the excess pounds pose a real health concern.

But judging by the schedule I keep and my reluctance to "diet" it has to be.  It is rather clear the weight will not come off sitting at home.  That is where the ice cream is!

Another beginning in a life full of beginnings.  Let's just see how it all shakes out.  And no, that is not a reference to the shaking of my stomach!

Boy I need a nap, or a sundae.




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