It's me... you know, the guy you were before you started this insanity.
The guy who loved nothing better than pounding cheeseburgers and pizza, and washing them down with liters and liters of Dr. Pepper or Coke. The guy who would inhale potato chips or cheese curls while sitting for hours in front of your gaming console, stopping only to go out and enjoy a fine cigarette. Or two.
You do remember me, don't you? The guy who would toss back a couple of beers (or more), plus a couple of shots (or more)? The guy who thought that runners were weird (I mean, really, you run and run and run, and you're not really going anywhere, you're just tiring yourself out). The guy who never understood how someone could work out in a gym for two hours, or swim three miles, or hit a silly punching bag.
And God forbid you try anything like yoga. Those yoga people are true freaks -- tree-hugging, soy-eating, tattooed freaks who bend their bodies in unfathomable ways. Just looking at them made you feel uncomfortable!
So, what happened, buddy? Where have you gone? Off the deep end?
Ok, I can understand. It was new, it was different. It has also been a pain in the ass!! I mean, those classes are really hard! It's so friggin' hot in there!! Not only that, you did something called a challenge: 52 classes in 60 days! I thought that was ridiculous in itself, but then you did it AGAIN!! Insane!! I was so glad when you had to stop going for that six months -- I thought sanity had prevailed. Imagine my horror, then, when the studio called looking for work-study people. You never gave me a chance to put in my two cents, you just hauled off and went right on back without any chance for me to shout you down. So, once again, I am put through this hell two, three, sometimes five times in a week!!
And for what?
You make me drink so much water or Gatorade -- I want a soda!
You make me eat vegetables and, God forbid, fruit! At least you don't eat a lot of that yet.
You drag me into that oven, bend me, stretch me, and make me sweat and sweat and sweat.
You force me to breathe that hot, humid, nasty air.
It doesn't have to be this way. Let's be reasonable about this.
You don't really have to do this anymore.
I know you lost 45 pounds, and you are a bit more flexible and all that.
I don't care.
Let's go back to the way it used to be. No more of this foolishness.
No more spending all day trying to get three or four liters of water down your throat.
No more eating better.
No more sacrificing two hours of your day for this madness.
Let's go get that ice cold Coke. And a couple of burgers.
Let's not worry about how you will fit in three classes this week. Let's watch TV or play games.
You can do it. I know you can. I've been watching.
I've seen you give in from time to time. Fast-food breakfast here. Candy bar there.
And yes, I've seen you have a smoke from time to time. It's once a week, for now, isn't it?
I've watched you crumble in that room, too. Laying out for long stretches of class, or leaving the room altogether -- what's wrong Mark? Can't take it anymore, buddy? I notice that once the postures start, you're having a really hard time looking in the mirror at your own two eyes, or your knee, or anything else. You stare at the floor (or the ceiling when you're on your back, which is happening more and more often). Your muscles scream and your body feels limp (that's my doing -- it seems to be the only way I can get your attention). You have trouble hearing the instructor because I am there, whispering to you, "It doesn't have to be this way. You don't have to do this to us.... Let's quit."
So, come on! Let's get that pack of smokes, a giant pizza, and a 12-pack of soda. Let's fire up the Playstation, or watch the ballgame. Let's not have anymore of this lunacy.
No one needs to know.
It will be our little secret.....
Take your time. I'll be here.