There’s lots of things I oughta be doing.
I oughta be flossing more. Eating less. Exercising more. Sitting around less. I oughta be putting on more sunscreen, driving slower, working harder, writing more, watching TV less. If I had any brains at all I’d be reading better books, writing better fiction. Getting my kids outside to play more, taking them to more fun things. I should call my folks more, and my sisters, and my friends. I should be making more money, wearing better clothes, cracking more jokes, thinking more, cleaning up after myself better. I should pet my cats more often, donate more to charity, volunteer more. I should be making more music. Complimenting my wife more, taking her out more, holding her more.
Yeah I should do all that stuff. But I don’t and probably never will. Probably there are lots of guys out there who do manage to do all that stuff; who look great, make a lot of money, and are tons of fun to be with. But let’s face it: they’re all assholes, and I’d never want to be like them.
Of all the things I ought to be doing that I’m not, there are really only a handful of things I’d really like to be doing, if only I could muster the damned will.
One of them is sporting a set of six pack abs.
Oh yeah baby.
Now, I’m not a complete loser, and I’ve been doing a lot of push-ups this past year. Sometimes I manage two or three a day. I was at the beach this summer, and I was looking forward to it. I thought, I’ve been doing a lot of push-ups and damned if I don’t look pretty good for my age; I have never been more ready for the dunes.
Sadly, what I think I look like and the hideous reality of my actual bod are not quite the same thing. So there I was at the beach and I take off my shirt and some damned fool snaps a picture. These days of course with new-fangled digital camera jobbies you can see the results right away and I made the awful, ego-crushing mistake of looking at the picture.
Let’s just say my transverse abdominal could use some work.
Not a problem. The heck with everything else. Kids, wife and teeth can wait, but six pack abs? Here we come! Hey, if Dara Torres can do it, so can I (he wrote, conveniently ignoring the vast gulf between a human with actual strength of character and one without…)
I bet she doesn’t floss.