Burning bush

So I’ve been leading a pretty sedentary lifestyle since I started freelancing from home, and I’m afraid things around here are sort of going to pot. Hell in a handbasket, actually, if you ask me. Except for the occassional stroll on the beach, I just don’t use the ol’ muscular system that much — never mind that whole cardiovascular whatnot. And my eating habits have sunk to frat boy levels, incorporating far too many nachos and pizza.

I realize what needs to be done… it’s not like it’s any great secret ya know. In order to lose weight, one must exercise more often and eat more sensibly. End of story. I lost about a hundred pounds when I was a teenager (and kept it off for lo these many years), so I feel pretty confident that I know the basic deal. But I seem to do better with a very detailed plan in hand, so I’ve been trying to psyche myself up to call my Dad’s nutritionist (Dad’s kind of really into health, especially of the alternative variety). I just figured I’d get inspired one of these days.

And here’s what happened today. I was in the shower, glumly observing the ravages of time and sloth, and said out loud, “maybe it’s really time to get serious about this, and get back in shape.” I toweled myself off, threw some gunk in my hair, and walked into the living room, where the tv was on.

And what did it say on the screen, in great big red letters? “IT’S TIME TO GET SERIOUS.” As I goggled at this directive from the almighty box, the screen changed to say, “GET BACK IN SHAPE.” Of course it was some ad for a cheesy, rip-off type of exercise thingy junkpile, but still.

Message received. I made the appointment with the damn nutritionist. Now quit freakin’ me out.

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