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B is for Decay

I sit here thinking of my flabby stomach and non muscular physique and I realize that it is now close to a year that I’m to go swimming in order to return to a svelte form. I haven’t of course. I blame it on money – the constant degradation of my salaric content. Yes… I just said “salaric”. But really, I could squeeze a little more to pay bills and look good so… the truth I guess then becomes I have no woman. And no woman means no motivation. Or rather – no prospects no purpose.

The year after my spinal surgeries, I returned to the Centre [Princess Elizabeth] to say hi. I think we talked about what exercise regime I was on or whatever, the point being, the conversation ended with “Well I have a woman now so I have to look good eh”.

Scoff all you want. This one unadulterated truth remains: we strive to look good so that others may concur. Even the lesbians work on their fitness to attain finesse.* 

The very act of personal grooming is a convoluted route on the highway of sex.** Gone are the days when one groomed and perfumed for the sake of it, we do it now because you never know if sex is waiting for you just as you step outside. Smell good dammit!

Of course, the other reason is substitution. Or else the pursuit of a redeeming quality.
Without much in the way of an intellect, one must look pretty. Ab crunches, push ups, diets with puréed grass… all to maintain a tight arse. I already am a tight arse by virtue of the fact that I am a talented snub wondering why people don’t think/hypothesize more. The history of my love life has something to be desired and after The 2008 Fiasco I figured that my shot at a real, well meaning, crazy, beautiful, stimulating, Theist loving, talented and secretly wise woman was not just out of reach but damn near impossible. And while Impossible Is Nothing, I’ve settled for downing four doubles and a [synthetic] Portugal juice and read about the Fibonacci Sequence. It doesn’t help that I’m beginning to feel my puny attempts at intelligence is an impairment to Eros love [there ARE three kinds of love apparently]. And so with skinny body and Santa tummy I say to the mirror “WE HAVE to start swimming!”. But what’s the point. The day ends with you curled up with a warm laptop, a book and a chocolate bar [Nuggle] as you slowly turn into a Katherine Heigl character [while another prospective love gets married]

Pax

* it is widely understood that I know every lesbian in Trinidad & Tobago. We love each other. I can get away with that statement. You? Unlikely.

** Don’t misunderstand. I firmly believe in personal grooming for the sake of feeling/looking/smelling good/clean. After all, I am neither now nor was I ever getting sex.

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Comments

  1. RushJuly 13, 2011 at 12:30 PM

    This was quite amusing--I've been wondering myself why I stop getting manicures and pedicures once I get comfy in a relationship. Maybe you're on to something!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Ayodhya OudittJuly 15, 2011 at 7:02 AM

    Have you considered the true paradox at hand?
    Without a woman one has no incentive to work out.
    Without a suitable body one has no woman.
    Break this cycle of death.

    ReplyDelete

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