Originally Posted Tuesday, October 29, 2013
I haven't been to the gym for over a week now. It is fun not going to the gym. The days are so much longer and enjoyable. This whole gym thing is wrong, I'm certain. Think about who started it. Before the 1980's, gyms were places for freaks, pump boys who wanted to bigger than dad. Charles Atlas, of course, got it really going, but his regimen didn't require a gym. Hell, he only asked for fifteen minutes a day at home.
And, of course, Jack Lalanne brought exercise to television. Still, you had half an hour and needed nothing more than household articles to stay in shape. Old Jack, though, introduced the idea of a healthy diet, and things started to change. It was the beginning of the end of the good life.
Fucking Arnold, though. . . . Suddenly there were gyms popping up everywhere. Everybody was eating salads and chicken breasts and there were GNCs on every corner.
Now I'm not knocking exercise. My mother has done every day of her long life, and she is much healthier than any of her younger friends. Exercise is good for you. Every study you read tells you so.
But not going to the gym. . . it has been the loveliest part of being sick. I won't go today, and tonight I go to the beauty parlor, so there will be no time for it. Nor tomorrow. And after that I will live like Don instead of Dave Draper. Cocktails and cigarettes and plenty of bologna sandwiches with mayonnaise. If it was good enough for pop. . . it's good enough for me.
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