Monday, October 31, 2005
This One's About Ass So Scoot, Scooter and Take Your Roving Eye With You
Okay, I'm officially sick of hearing, reading and talking about the Scooter affair. I'm sorry I prolonged it with two consecutive posts. I may never mention it again until after the conviction and subsequent presidential pardon.Today I'd like to talk about ANYthing else so I'll fall back on my current obsession with getting into better shape. I'm not in bad shape at all. I just want to fine tune so I don't look like a complete blowfish in my video due to be taped December 14. When you are a short guy, there are only so many places to hide five pounds. With me it's the gut and the face. I can hide stuff behind my guitar but I don't think I'd perform well in a full rubberized mask.
I can put on five pounds in a single day. No problem. It takes me six weeks of very intense work to lose it. I'm not wasting time or psychic energy carping about that biological injustice. What is just is and I'm dealing with it.
On Friday's we have an very trim and fit yoga substitute teacher from the Czech Republic. She's both adorable and very tough. It's a different form of yoga. Kind of like concentration camp style. Difficult poses are held much longer and then repeated. Her favorite refrain is, "Okay, we do five more." When I discovered that she is also a physical trainer, I hired her on the spot. Now two mornings a week she does the , "Okay five more," routine one on one with me on various torture devices. I balance on a large rubber half ball while lifting weights in various directions. I do sit-ups and crunches in so many different ways, I need an illustrated guide to recall them.
On mornings when I watch her working out from my perch on an stationary bike, I'm humiliated to see this girl who weighs fifty pounds less than me, lifting more weight in more reps than I can. And she doesn't bulge. You only notice her muscle when she is lifting. She is a wonder. An inspiration. And a source of amusement to my twisted mind.
Her English is perfect and her accent is charming. Before I understood what sounds she makes for certain letter combinations I was the victim of a very funny misunderstanding. She glided into Yoga in a outfit that betrayed her 3% body fat. Which is to say, she looked splendid as usual. She announced, "Peeeple assk me howw to get gooood ass." I thought, "Isn't that cute, nobody every explained to her that you don't say 'ass' in a mixed group when you don't know them that well." I was so amused that I probably missed everything else she said. We were quickly directed into a series of postures during which I was firmly intent on watching her firm ass. I didn't get what these moves would do in any extraordinary way to my ass. I figured I must be doing them wrong. So I watched even harder.
Out in the parking lot I told my wife, Cathy, that I was really surprised nobody ever explained to our yoga teacher that you probably shouldn't use the word "ass" in a public speaking situation if you don't know your audience that well. And that I didn't think the postures we did affected my ass at all. Cathy kind of smacked me around a bit and told me, "It was abs, you moron, not ass." Oh, yeah, duh, I knew that. That would be why I feel like I have a hernia.
We've been laughing about this ever since. Now fast forward a few weeks to my first training session with this young lady. After the evaluation she says to me, "Okay, let's go to cage. But first I need rope." Here we go, I'm thinking. Ass, cage, rope. Weee! The cage and rope turned out to be a stretching device. She explained that like most moronic macho gym rats, I don't stretch properly. She showed me how in the cage. She didn't lock me in. She has me on the road to buff. I may even get to wear one of those backless leather chaps in my video.
posted by Bud @ 7:47 AM
Comments:
Post a Comment
Links to this post: