This year, like every year since I turned 12, I want to lose weight. Yeah, yeah, saying is one thing, doing is another. But, as time rages on, I find my body not cooperating with me as it used to do. I say, let's walk around the block. My body says, Oh, man, we did that last week! I say, ok, let's just do some stretches, and climb on that cardio machine. My body says, I didn't buy the cardio machine, I said you wouldn't use it, so don't expect me to jump on that torture machine! Just pretend you did, and worry about it later.
My body constantly whines. I'm too tired, my back hurts, I don't feel good, I just want to lie here and do nothing. God, what a bi-atch.
I guess I'll just have to use force. Make it listen to me. I'll deprive it of food and the simple pleasures it has come to enjoy. I'll starve it if I have to. Then we'll see whose boss around here. It thinks I'll just go along with whatever plans its made. It doesn't realize I have a mind of my own. I guess it's really my fault though. I've spoiled it, gave in to its little whims for too long. Like all the chocolate it has been consuming. The TV, the books, that damned recliner. I should have put my foot down long ago, but it wouldn't let do even that!!
Well, it may have a few miles on it, but its time for a complete overhaul. It sorely needs a complete tune-up, and not that computerized bullshit. This is not one of those new model bodies. This is one of the older models you can tinker around with yourself. You know the kind, pop the hood, stick something in that little doo-hickey when you give it too much gas. Point it downhill, get it rolling good, jump in, pop the dooflopper, and, if you're lucky, it will crank right up. I got some tools, and I know how to use them, dammit.
So, body, prepare yourself! Your ass is mine.