The Resolution Will Not Be Televised

It’s January 14, 2008 and the gym is empty. Every single year at the beginning of January 8 million people join the Y as a new year’s resolution to get in shape, and by the middle of the month they’re all gone. They do two weeks, max, and they quit. Which is kind of silly because it only takes three weeks to form a habit. I’m not complaining. I love it when the gym is empty. I hate waiting for equipment. I like to be able to go from machine to machine as quickly as possible trying to make my heart explode. I can count on the staff and the regulars to know CPR. The resolutioners may just stare at me as I clutch my chest and twitch on the ground, not knowing what to do or not wanting to seem out of place. Even though administering CPR is commonplace among hard core lifters. I gave mouth-to-mouth to a guy this morning. He called it sexual assault, but whatever. That’s what I get for trying to be a Good Samaritan. I don’t hate these people. I pity the fools. I want them to succeed. Getting in shape is the best way to raise self esteem and mood. It’s even better than ethnic cleansing.

Today is MJ’s birthday. She turns a very young 46. I remember when we first started dating. I was an 18 year old college freshman. She was a 27 year old Comp I professor. She was intrigued by my lack of effort and 2 Live Crew concert T-shirt, which said something so offensive I’m embarrassed that I wore it and sad that there are no pictures. I’m joking of course – about her age. She’s 36. The bad grades and profane T-shirt are dead on accurate. If she met the 18 year old me today she would probably try to have me arrested. For me though, I find her a peach in all of her incarnations, but I’m pretty sure I used to get my way more often. Happy Birthday sweetie pie!!!