I had just hopped off the treadmill and was trying to decide where I was going to go to get a big, fat, juicy cheeseburger when I overheard a trainer at the gym talking about what it takes to stay in shape. Through his giant water bottle, which I can only assume was filled with the testosterone and the sweat of a million conquered nerds, I heard him say, “diet AND exercise.” Insert screeching brakes noise here… Are you telling me I have to multitask to stay in reasonable shape?! I’m all for trying to be healthy, to a point, but that seems excessive. I always thought you had to do one, so you didn’t have to do the other.
Does it count if you do both, but on different days? Today, I ran 4 miles on the treadmill and lifted some weights, but everything I ate consisted of delicious, carbohydrates covered in other carbohydrates and washed down with alcohol. Tomorrow, I will sit in my chair all day and eat a salad. Technically, that should be considered me following this outlandish philosophy. I mean it’s not like I’m eating a hot dog with one hand and doing curls with the other. The gym frowns upon the dripping of mustard on the weight machines anyway and don’t even ask what happens when you spill sauerkraut inside the elliptical.
I’m a big fan of food in all of its forms and that’s why I exercise; to be able to wolf down a plate of cheese and gravy fries without needing a defibrillator in the trunk of my car.
I mean how do I convince myself that a reward for an intense workout is putting an extra tablespoon of dressing on my bowl of produce and weeds?
I have no desire to be like the dude training people at the gym. If I want my shirts to fit like his, I’ll just shop at Baby GAP. Sure, you’ll live longer if you eat healthily AND exercise, but at what cost?
I could live to be ninety-five and eat things grown in the ground or I can keel over at the fine age of sixty-six, clutching my chest with grease on my lips, frosting in my heart and a smile on my face. I choose to live, dammit!
Live a life of enjoyment, of cholesterol-laden entrees and sugar-laced snacks. I’m about maintaining a certain level of health, as long as it doesn’t inconvenience me, in any way. Food was meant to be enjoyed and experienced, not just for survival. The ability to create and enjoy a cheeseburger placed between two glazed donuts is what separates us from the animals. I can appreciate the desire to be in peak physical condition, but that’s more for athletes and people who can afford plastic surgery. Think about it in a practical manner; if you want to survive in a post-apocalyptic world, you need to be able to do two things; run and eat anything. There’s a reason you don’t see gym rats and vegetarians in zombie movies. They can’t survive in a world without free weights and tofurkey.