Day 5

I have already blogged about my difficulties working out in a traditional sense. I am not a fan of exercise equipment. Similar to the future in “The Terminator,” machines and me don’t mix. I just hope a Stairmaster with an Austrian accent does not attack me one day.

This past weekend I did it my way with working out– I laughed my ass off.

We’ve all heard that term before, along with “kick your ass,” “tap that ass” and “what an ass.”

Strangely, I have yet to see a tush fall off from giggling, a fight where an opponent focuses on striking the derriere, love making with tapping sounds or a person resembling two cheeks divided by a crack.

The thing is, my ass is fine. It is not trophy worthy, but my rear end does the job. It’s a moderate, and I am okay with that and don’t look to change much.

I don’t need or want to laugh my ass off, or I’d have little left to sit on. What I need when burning calories is for only specific areas to be peeling off the poundage. In my case, it is the belly region, where it appears to have a mind of its own. If the rest of my body is a family, my stomach seems to be the rebellious and independent one. This gut has busted loose!

I took my shirt off in public to hang at a lake in Dallas with one of my oldest and bestest friends, Steve Lawrence. He’s got his own little monster of the mid section to deal with, so (with him being shorter than me) it looks like the team of Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble have returned.

We tried to stand together, with his dog too, on a blowup paddle board with boat wakes shaking us off balance. Our attempts were what made us howl with laughter, knowing how past our prime we are, but stubbornly trying again and again.

Then…we did it! We got 7/8ths to a full stand, his terrier in the middle and the two of us about upright on the paddle board. Being taller in this case had a disadvantage, because my fall was a lot more severe (and looks worse to an observer). It would have been fine, but I landed on rocks that I didn’t see, three inches below the surface.

Ouch. Made a gash in my side about that looks like I was stabbed by a bayonet.

Good news is the wounded area is exactly in the desired space I want to lose – the love handles. So I’m looking at it as a good excuse to absolve myself of all this hard work. This scar is the perfect start to my next weight loss program – liposuction!