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This week I talked about how it sucked being sick.  You know what else sucks?  Being fat.  Fat! The BCPF hates when I call myself that, but you know what?  If the corduroy pants don’t fit, you can’t wear them.  I have no clue what that means, but I typed it anyways.

This morning I was putting two tires in the back of Monte (my very tired Montero Sport) and just putting those in left me winded for about 10 minutes.  Granted I was bent over trying to get as much water as possible out of them before putting them in her back hatch (wow that sounded much dirtier that I would have ever meant it to) and what have you, but dang!  That still sucks. I clock in just under (presumably) 300 lbs.  That’s a lot of weight.  Not good on the joints, the heart, other functions, even the mind.


I’m dead sexy!

I have fitness friends and I have people talking about diets and all that jazz, but here’s the thing: I can’t give up the beer and I hate the feeling of adrenaline rushes.  The beer thing isn’t an alcoholic issue, it’s a monetary issue.  I have the ability to say that I “get paid to drink beer.”  Not a shload, mind you.  One of the things that The Less Desirables does is review beer.  We have an “Official Beer Sponsor” in City Beverage in Winston-Salem.  People listen to hear about the beer and our thoughts.  Sponsor=pay.  Also, I started the new show, The Beer Dads in the last few weeks so that’s another one. The premise is beer (and dads).  There are a few other instances that beer is either payment or the subject in my life.

When I was a much smaller thing I did exercise to the extent that I would walk a few times a week.  I just absolutely hate the feeling of adrenaline and endorphins… phooey.  People furrow their brows when I say that but it’s true.  I don’t ride thrill rides, I don’t exercise, I just don’t.  Do I feel better afterwards? Yes, but that feeling doesn’t equate or necessitate the need for the feeling I get while exercising.

Now, I get the other side of that.  Health. Staying healthy is important, I know.  But, I don’t want any part of that other stuff.  No. No way. Huh uh. Forget it.

Do you, Dear Reader, have any suggestions otherwise?  Or coping with the endorphin/adrenaline issue?  I’m open.  I feel like a tub o’lard and don’t like that at all.

Until tomorrow, same blog channel…
Scorp out!

“It’s simple. If it jiggles, it’s fat.” – Arnold Schwarzeneggar