Thursday, May 6, 2010

An Amicable Exchange

After some consideration, I've determined that my overly abundant breasts are largely responsible for the continued perpetuation of my weight gain, for the following reasons:
  1. They leave me blissfully unaware of my ever-growing middle-section b/c they obstruct my view of same;  I literally have to push them aside in order to properly view my stomach;
  2. They serve as a distraction, in that the people around me tend to not treat me any differently, b/c they only seem to notice my goodly ladies, rather than the other plentiful parts of me; and
  3. They initially absorb much of the additional weight gain and hence distort my own sense of body mass - (ie:  "I can't be gaining weight, my pants still fit me fine"). 
To be fair to the girls, there are other things at issue.  For instance, after Mom fractured her hand roller-blading last fall, my workout routine suffered greatly and it became damn near non-existent after my car accident in January. As I'm sure you can imagine, crippling spinal/musculature pain can be quite demotivating.  However, my situation has become something of a self-propelling, negative feedback loop because the less I work out, the more I gain weight, the less my body is healthy overall, the less quickly my injuries heal, the less I work out... (you see where this is going). So, I've determined that I need to jump into a new routine already and work through the pain as I go. (It isn't as though anti-inflammatories and other pain meds are absent from the earth. If worse comes to worse, I'll start popping pills.)

What I've learned from leading scientific studies and my own experience is that having a committed exercise partner is the predominant indicator of successful maintenance of a workout program. Essentially, your partner motivates you to keep it up when you are unable and you do the same for them when they are feeling sluggish. For that reason, I sorely miss working out with my parents and sisters.  My mom and dad were VERY conscientious about exercise and very persistent about convincing me to join them. The only problem is that Mom can't really roller-blade anymore. Plus, I'm a little hesitant to return to that activity myself knowing that it deformed and crippled my mom's right hand.

I've been wracking my brains for that special someone who has the time and inclination to join me in an exercise program.  Of the infinitesimally small number of potential candidates, I've determined that my ex would be ideal. He lives just a few blocks from me and our gym membership is still current*, so convenience wouldn't be at issue.  Also, being a farm boy, he has (for all intents and purposes) endless strength and endurance** so I won't have to concern myself with him pooping out on me.

Given the above, I seemingly have everything in place to get back to a healthy body size--everything except motivation and inertia on my ex's part.  Prodding and poking him has proven ineffective.  I need to offer him something to sweeten the deal.  Essentially, to motivate him to motivate me.  What I thought I could offer up is casual sex.  I figure, why not?  We both excel at it.  We aren't having it with anyone else and goddamnit, I want a freaking gym buddy. Nothing makes for a more devoted work-out partner than one who is promised free lovin' afterward.  If our relationship set any precedent, I think he will remain tireless in his effort to get me to the gym and subsequently into bed.

Who else sees what a genius idea this is? ...Anyone? Anyone?! ...Bueller? ... *sigh*

Om shanti.


*Even though neither of us attends with any frequency--it is frighteningly true what they say about it being damn near super-human to voluntarily quit a gym.

**I once watched him valiantly magic a couch up three flights of stairs with minimal assistance.