Lately I’ve been trying to eat healthier. Not healthy, mind you. Just healthier. I’m not talking tofu and roughage crap here. Please.
But I’ve been a bit nicer to my body than usual.
(Not in that way, you perv. I’m not being ‘nicer’ to my body like that. Jeez. Let it go already.)
Anyway, it’s not exactly hard to be better to myself. I’ll never be the poster boy for ‘SoloFlex‘, you understand. Me and that Jared kid from Subway ain’t never gonna be ‘tight’, all right?
(What’s up with that guy, anyway? I know he lost a shitload of weight, but damn — did he shed his friggin’ personality, too? He’s so stiff and wooden and blah… I’m not even convinced it’s a real guy. I think Subway just killed off the fat guy in the ‘before’ picture and built this puppet that looked like the same guy, only half as big.
Oh, sure, give me that look like I’m crazy. Right. Where do you think we got Ted Danson and Al Gore from? They’re not real; they’re robots or something. It’s a whole little cottage industry.)
All right, where was I? Ah, my eating habits. Okay.
So I’m eating better lately. It’s not hard, really. A little restraint here, a good decision there. Really, the little things do add up. I’ve stopped crumbling pork rinds into my milkshakes, for instance. I still go through the bag of Snickers every day, but I’ve stopped deep-frying them. I still sprinkle bacon bits onto my double-chocolate hot fudge sundaes, though.
(Look, there are some things more important than good health, all right?)
Anyway, my recent abstemious behavior seems to be paying off. All those horrible sacrifices are producing results. Even my doctor has noticed a change. That’s right — I can now utter those four magic little words:
‘I lowered my cholesterol.’
Now, don’t get all wiggly over it or anything. It’s still up around four thousand or something. Little globs of grease float over my eyeballs sometimes. My feet squish when I walk. I sweat burger grease. So it’s not low. But it’s low-er. Baby steps, people. Baby steps.
Still, I’m not gonna go around telling everybody about it, like that assbag in the commercials. A clerk at the store — ‘I lowered my cholesterol.’ Some fool on the street — ‘I lowered my cholesterol.’ The pimply-faced teeny-boob handing him his McMegaMeal — ‘Hey, my cholesterol’s down!‘ Dude, nobody cares. Get over it.
Besides, what kind of moron goes around volunteering his personal medical history? That’s private shit, man. You don’t see me going around flagging down strangers on the street, exclaiming, ‘Hey! I used to be a woman!‘. Or bugging old women at the mall, professing, ‘You know, I think I’ve finally licked that herpes thing.’
(Um, not that I would need to say those things. I was just using myself as an example. In hindsight, that was a pretty crappy idea. Bitches.
Plus, even if I could say such things, I would never say I ‘licked herpes’. That’s just gross. Besides, it’s often licking that gets you into that sort of thing in the first place. I’m just saying.
Look, this whole aside just got damned creepy. Can I just end the parentheses now? Please?
Okay, what the hell was I saying? Oh, cholesterol. Right.
So, the plan seems to be working. Eat less crap, get more healthy. I guess life is actually fair once in a while. (I continue to maintain it’s just a coincidence, but hey, I’ll run with it for now. Or, you know, jog. No need to strain myself, after all.) My well-being and shit had better continue to improve, though. I’m not giving up pork rinds for nothing. Even I have my limits.Permalink | No Comments