Let the record state at the very outset, that this is not the customary post that I make every time I have climbed up the bench-press ladder by a certain amount (which, for the record I have). This is also not a post in praise of my gym exploits, of which I assure you there are many (but modesty, quite like factual accuracy, is one of the tenets this blog swears by). This post is quite simply an obituary.
This post is in the memory of the self-esteems of certain men, all undergoing the CoM phase (if you don't get the reference, you don't read my blog enough; see the first post and the second post of the series). These brave men walk in to the gym for the first time, look around (with that look quite reminiscent of Rajnikanth's entry in many a movie), and nonchalantly head toward that death trap we call the cross-bar. The intent is to show the room who's boss. Imagine the shock when their arms realize that their bodies are too heavy, and they're left there trying with their lives to look like they're hanging on purpose and having fun doing it. All that looks good in Complan ads with pre-pubescent brats. When you're pot-bellied and thirty, you ought to know that your self-esteem just rolled over and died. May it rest in peace.
Not one to let my bretheren's mistakes go by without notice, I find room for one of my theories. This theory states that it is quite alright to underestimate yourself in certain situations; especially when you are a CoM-er and public humiliation is hot and ready to serve. Amen.
True story.
This post is in the memory of the self-esteems of certain men, all undergoing the CoM phase (if you don't get the reference, you don't read my blog enough; see the first post and the second post of the series). These brave men walk in to the gym for the first time, look around (with that look quite reminiscent of Rajnikanth's entry in many a movie), and nonchalantly head toward that death trap we call the cross-bar. The intent is to show the room who's boss. Imagine the shock when their arms realize that their bodies are too heavy, and they're left there trying with their lives to look like they're hanging on purpose and having fun doing it. All that looks good in Complan ads with pre-pubescent brats. When you're pot-bellied and thirty, you ought to know that your self-esteem just rolled over and died. May it rest in peace.
Not one to let my bretheren's mistakes go by without notice, I find room for one of my theories. This theory states that it is quite alright to underestimate yourself in certain situations; especially when you are a CoM-er and public humiliation is hot and ready to serve. Amen.
True story.
No comments:
Post a Comment