I was whisking 4 eggs while some white onions and cherry tomatoes fried in salted butter on my nonstick pan. Night has come again, Lofi Beats is floating in the background. The overhead lights have rendered the shadows kind. I’m whisking my eggs shirtless with yellow cream sweatpants on, no underwear. I turn my head towards the window. I see myself in the dark reflection.
I am six foot tall. one hundred and eighty pounds. I have exercised rigorously and maintained a moderately healthy food intake diligently for the last 7 years. I am muscular yet lean strong yet flexible, beautiful but young. The overhead light falls on me in a way that i am immediately reminded of Michelangelo’s David. I stare at myself and being moving in various angles that highlight my body’s physique.
I am pleased with what i see. A body earned not given. A body that has shown up again and again to slow the decay of the flesh. A body that is dedicated to the preservation of its abilities. A body that is only as strong as the last time you stressed it. A body that will never forget the quote; “ It is a shame for a body to grow old without seeing the beauty and strength of which it is capable”.
So after a minute or two of me imagining myself being sculpted like a figure of Rodin a different part of my brain said “whats the right amount of vanity vitamin water to drink before you get sick?” Because these thoughts are outrageous and you sure as Rome do not look like David. How long will I be beautiful for?
I workout this much to ensure that i can walk when i am eighty. I workout so i can see my eightieth year. I’m aware that caring to much about the external is detrimental to your mental health and therefore the physical self is affected. So I a self declared Pollyannaic valetudinarian is careful not only to not excessively desire myself but also to give energy to the internal self. The balance of the two is the only way to ensure the survival of either. It’s a balancing act of wills between caring what you look like for all its materialistic pursuits and also realizing that the physical self is temporary in its current form subject to random luck expressing itself in infinite ways from how your genes are expressed to the piano not falling on your head as you walk down the street.
okay time limit is up. i decided to set a one hour time limit on my articles for at least 7 more uploads to ensure i finish these fuckers. i got side tracked a lot with random thoughts. this is definitely an exercise in focused thought and output, much fun. I must keep writing to get good at writing or better at expressing myself just like lifting! wundabar! see you next week.