We’re all fat. Our kids are fat. Our neighbours are fat. Our friends and they’re friends, they’re all fat. Actually, my wife is not fat ~ I should make that clear ~ but literally everyone else is fat. Okay, not everyone, but loads of people. Everywhere you look, everywhere you go, the fatties pound the streets. Normal sized people are now a distinct minority.
Some of these normal sized people have achieved the proportions intended by nature by living more or less as nature intended. They do physical stuff. Usually at work. If they’re not grafting at work, they’re grafting in the gym. The trouble is, unless exercising is your only hobby, you need a well paid job to be able to justify gym membership. By the way, if gym membership is your own hobby, I suggest you take up drinking. Sure, it makes you fat, but it is generally a better way to meet people.
Regular readers will remember that this Christmas, my wife announced that my gift to her would be a six-pack by June. I’ll not be going to a gym achieve this. Why spend hours poncing about on various specialist machines which only train particular body parts when there’s work to do which will train all of me? Here’s my gym:
Chopping and sawing this lot and then stacking it in my woodshed will give me a far more comprehensive workout that any gym could. That’s what I keep telling myself, when I get up each morning to look at it. Tomorrow.