The Fat Bastard Speaketh

Okay, I REALLY need to diet! I know I’ve said it many times before, and I’ve probably accumulated an entire mountain of hollow promises to myself in doing so – but I REALLY mean it this time!

What’s the latest source of inspiration you ask?

I’ve been noticing now that when I shower that the magnetic protective shower curtain is drawn to envelope my body each time I hop inside to bath instead of the shower walls like they’re designed to do. It makes me feel like a pork chop in a vacuum-sealed baggie.

Yep, it’s finally become diet time for this particular fat bastard before I can't even find my belt buckle without a medal detector.

Since I’m not much of a jogger, or weightlifter (or aerobicizer, jazzercizer, tai-boer, or anything else for that matter that may require me to move or stress myself too much – in fact, just moving my ass off the couch to refill my bowl of Cheeto’s is energetic enough for me) I’m considering taking up Yoga, since all the rage these days. Besides, even if I don’t like it I’ll still have lots of eye-candy to ogle at.

The only thing is, that I’m afraid that I would snap my spine in half like a dry chicken bone the first time I attempt the lotus leaf position.

Sure I want to get slim and healthy, but I’m also aware that Christopher Reeve probably isn’t getting laid too often either.

I don’t need to end up in any similar situations in the process, reduced to the same mobile capacities as a sausage in a go-cart.