Note For Rent

Fit of Fitness

Although Toby over at Vividblurry has the subject of body-dysmorphia all sewn up, I would like to say this: travelling about the globe, staying here and there, and living out of a suitcase is not the way to keep to a strict diet and gym routine. Worse, while I have no scale to measure myself on and therefore can't obsess directly about my weight, I have been exposing myself naked to strangers for money, which I figure is bound to make even the most avid gym-rat to cast a more critical eye on their own body... and I'm not anything like a gym rat at present: I haven't looked in a mirror for two weeks, and I haven't approached a barbell in four.

Le sigh.

And even worse than that are all those other go-go boys at work who don't have a thought in their pretty little heads, but devote the entire force of their limited grey matter towards moving their 7% body-fatted selves to and from the weight room--and purchasing steroids, I suppose. Sometimes I want to beat them up.

But most of my day-dreams lately revolve around eating according to a timer and starting a brand new workout routine; maybe doing a little yoga; oh, and hanging my clothes in a closet. Closets are sexy.

I'm so tired of travelling.

August

A word to the wise:

don't take your laptop to the pool. People splash people at the pool. Water, flying everywhere could--in theory--get on, say, your keyboard... which is right above your motherboard... and then there might be a... fizzeling.

Fizzeling.

Fuck me.

I'll do my best until I can source a new computer, but it's gonna be tough. You are the most patient readers a blogger could hope for.

As for actual content, I have high hopes for seeing aformentioned swarthy geek soon, as I'll be heading back to home base and he'll be around. All advice has been heeded, and straightforward passion is going to be the order of the day, not fancy swings and clamps and things. Look at me growing as a person.