I have no full-length mirrors in my house as I believe they are the work of the devil and are not to be trusted, much like cameras, they lie. They lie like a teenager (if you are a teenager reading this stating "I don't lie", I have four words for you fuck off, you liar). Each time I gaze upon my body in one of these demon spawned contraptions they show me a woman who is in dire need of either owning no mirrors in her house, a job with Michelin as a demo or maybe, just maybe some exercise.
Let us get one thing clear for the books here. Me and exercise are no strangers. I spend time doing squats and pushups, I cycle, I run, I yoge, I lift weights, hell I even do pullups and they are freaking hard. What is my point? I hear you yell (ps I don't, but I'm going to answer my own question anyway). OK, there are days that I sit at my desk scribbling on my note pad with my pencil thinking about how I "should" do some exercise. I look down at my Michelin advertisement pack and KNOW I need to do some exercise.
I have however, found out that exercise is dangerous. I know this because each time I do it I fall into the exercise geni's trap. I start quite happily, telling my brain "I'll just do a few pushups, no high intensity shit, just a few pushups", then, 5 minutes later I add squats into the equation, after 20 minutes of sweating till I bleed my HIIT is over . . . I know, I know I wasn't going to but, what have I been trying to tell you? My body is a charlatan and a trickster in league with dangerous exercise spawn. Before I know it, I'm changed into my cycling gear and off on my bike, come home and do some yoga then the next morning happens my thighs are aching, my shoulders don't seem to want to move things and I am still the same shape, I mean, how does that even work? My body told me I should train it visciously, tricked me into going all bat shit crazy yesterday and today I should be rocking a Victorias Secret body but ohhh no.
As I sit disillusioned and tired eating my way through a bag of M&M's after a lovely plate of chips (french fries to Johny Foreigner . . this is England dear) I realise something. My body doesn't work properly. We have all seen the very fit people. They eat tons of stuff, do a five minute video on YouTube and BOOM, still fit. I eat tons of stuff, do 15 minutes of exercise and BOOM, no change. My body is broken. What it should do is this:
I eat food. My body should delve through each item for nourishment.
Nourishy stuff should be popped into all areas of body needing nourishy stuff.
All things surplus to requirement ie bad fats, processed sugar, all the cooked carbs should then, surely, be pushed out through the bum.
But hell no! My body stores it for later like some insane cat woman type hoarder. Yes, my body doesn't "store" it hoards!
Why does my body store it for later?
Expert says: "when you eat excessively the body keeps energy in the form of fat in case of starvation"
|Health experts . . . pff what do they know?|
I say my body would not know what this "starvation" thing you are talking of is! I have never been starvationed, neither have I been in drought. I have never crawled through the the Yorkshire Dales on my knees my nails dragging through the ground to gain another inch of purchase in my vain and now desolate search of sustinance and libation, I just go to the shop and buy all the things. My body seems to be dwelling in some alternate reality where I am a starvationised person, either that or I'm an inuit . . . maybe that's why I like playing in the snow, but only after a nice big mug of hot chocolate and bedecked in much woolliness.
I have even sat in my alfresco meditation suite (its a tent in my garden) and explained to my body that it is indeed dwelling and thriving in the land of plenty. I am a first world child and the nearest I got to lack of food was my mum only allowing me 2 scoops of ice-cream after dinner not 3. Nothing. It just sits there all crossed leg and doesn't dump the plump even though I have a bucket waiting especially for that reason. I mean, if it is so against pooing out all the excess, I don't mind it having a quick surge of guilt due to malfunction and purging the bad stuff out through my hair for a minute or so. I'm kind like that.
I have listened to people talk of consistency in exercise to be the key. I consistently exercise then reward myself like a dog with snacks. Is this so wrong? Why are dogs allowed all the good treats and we just have to have rewards of ice cubes? This is all wrong.
I know I am not alone in my malfunctioning form. I have read and met many people flaunting the fat telling me that their bodies don't work properly either. They blame age, chocolate, crisps, etc., I say we were given faulty goods at the body checkout. So, saying, I'm in no hurry to give it back . . . it does work and stuff, it's just it's broken.
Well, I guess I will just have to accept my lot. Must go as I have a bag of sweets next to me. . . they don't eat themselves you know!!