Sunday, June 15, 2008

And the Merry Go Round Broke Down - Volume 11

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Another Father’s day, and I woke up this morning to head out to the gym like I have been now for a week. Weight 191 {6lbs less than last week} belt size 32 {still straining at that} and soreness just about everywhere. I’m actually really good at this, and I have an associate’s degree that says I should be. Back in the day I used to be the one person that everyone in my circle could count on to come up with creative ways to shed pounds and build muscle, and nobody who ever followed my directions ever failed. The fact of the matter is that most people rip on body builders for being dumb, muscle heads, you name it, and they may not be that far from the truth. I have met some intelligent body builders over the years, and when I was in college I had met a lot of the most famous pro body builders in history, but realistically the intelligent to non intelligent ratio was about 1 in 10. This really isn’t an insult either because I found that only the slower people that I ever trained could grasp the programs, and the more intelligent someone was the more likely they were to be too smart for proper diet and exercise.

Some things never change though, and inevitably as I started working out and dieting again, I find myself forcing through on pure logic and dealing with a lot of factors outside my own realm that are torture to say the least. I do after all live with my “reality disaffiliated” grandmother who has been going to weight watchers for 30 years now and has the whole program memorized. She also has honesty issues that interfere with any of her own weight loss, and she tries to inflict her twisted wisdom on anyone else that might be making any progress. She gets extremely bitter as well when you don’t follow “her version” of a diet, and it creates wars and sub-plots within the household. Needless to say, since I am not a Weight Watchers employee my opinion doesn’t count, but at the same time I doubt that the Weight Watchers employees actually do tell her that using 80% lean hamburger and only 2 eggs in a meatloaf makes it perfectly healthy. On the other hand, if they did I wouldn’t pitch a temper tantrum if I made them twice a week and someone in the house refuses to eat them.

The second thing that never seems to change is my presence in the gym. Within two days of my triumphant return to “My House” where I used to work out with some verve before my accident a few years back, a few of my old associates appeared looking for guidance. A couple of them make really good workout partners. One is as dumb as an ox, but he’s big and strong and does absolutely everything you tell him to, to the letter. He appeared to be much in the same state of affairs I am, which is a bit larger around the middle but can hide it well with a baggy shirt thanks to his huge arms and shoulders. The other one has been one of our best friends since elementary school and her aversion to male contact {lesbian} makes her the perfect beard for men that really are at the gym to work out. As always she hasn’t gained a pound in 20 years and I don’t think that is a good thing, but then again I am not sculpting her into my Venus either. Then there are a few that just don’t belong at all, like my former best friend and his sister, who I will get to in a minute. In any regards we have now all met at the same time each morning at the gym for the last 3 days so I will assume that it is a habit now.

Now my former best friend is about 6 foot 4 in 3 different directions. I got over all of my old issues towards him years back because the fact that he still lives with my first wife reminds me that I got my revenge the second I left my wedding ring on the table and walked out on both of them. The 300 pounds he gained since then simply proved that I had escaped a miserable existence with that woman, and he simply was the perfect man for her. I had left there with the assumption that I would have expected nothing less from him years before it had happened, but she on the other hand had me fooled. She has since taken great pride in the fact that the woman whom I ended up with in the end gave me 2 beautiful children {and I stole the one she had before I came along} and cheated on me every chance she had, so realistically I think we are square. My former friend here is a medical situation in waiting, and looking at him really didn’t make me feel any better at all, so he was included into our gym troop, along with his sister who is still good for my ego after all these years, and thankfully half his size and married now. You can actually see the relief, in her face, as other people are attempting to take on the burden of getting her brother back into better health, not to mention the fact that one of them knows the bitch he lives with pretty good. If she thinks I’ll mention her name around anyone she’s in for a surprise though, as I have since moved on, married and divorced worse. In any regards it’s nice to have a half a dozen people I can call friends for a change.

Then of course there is the psychodrama that entails getting healthy again. I am already starting to have those compulsive traits that make me the most undesirable individual in the world. My irony to honesty ratio raises and lowers with my testosterone, and I start falling into my own head to psychoanalyze everyone around me. It makes for wonderful humor and all but it also creates a shield that doesn’t get penetrated very well. I was musing today about how the gymbos play the gym “stock market” between whatever it is they do to make their asses firmer. My intimacy issues come full circle when I believe that a woman is playing an angle whether she actually is or not, and I always manage to surround myself with people that will encourage this bad behavior. The women that flirt with me now are simply brushed off as “upside feeders” who see a guy that obviously was in great shape at one time who appears serious to get that way again. We joke about this, and my status of “aloof” remains intact while at the same time after I leave the gym and drive back to my hoard of screaming monsters it rather hit me today that I was the one who was going home to nobody other than my kids. Holding court for an hour doesn’t always seem to make up for that, but in the same frame I have had enough of trying to fit a relationship around an already hectic life, regardless of how desperately I miss it. I have too many feelings and emotions that I am enslaved to, to try and decipher another set, despite the best of intentions to begin with. Maybe I’ll spend a little more of my psychoanalytical bullshit on myself for a while and see where it takes me, within reason after all ;8o)

Other Crap This Weirdo Publishes... Mental Notes & Random Musings {Daily Blog} The Crow's Nest {The Homepage of Jeremy Crow} Jeremy Crow on Multiply {For Community Types} Blogaholics Anonymous {E-Mail Blogging Group} Itching For Coffee {Community Blog}

Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, screw ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy

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