By Malcolm Rex
Good people let us call a spade a spade. The many ravings at Small Den on how a pint or two of the frothy liquid is making me rounder and rounder are exasperating me. It is a fact that I do carry some weight. You can use any phrases of your fancy — fat, big, robust — whatever. I plan on doing nothing on my weight. Actually, let me rephrase this. I will do something about it. I am watching it (no pun intended).
Ever since Ras got involved with that wiry blond, he has taken to lecturing me on what constitutes healthy living. “Malcolm, when was the last time you took to some form of physical activity to improve your lifestyle? Jackie and I have taken to nature walks in an effort to boost our health and trim any unnecessary calories,” he would tell me.
Now, to all and sundry, the worst form of punishment you will prescribe for me is the need to be physically active in an effort to prolong my life. First, that is akin to blaming me for my weight gain. You very well know that I did not invent the car. Our forefathers walked 12 to 13 kilometres a day. It is also true that their work involved standing, walking around and digging. I doubt if that would have been the case had they had the luxuries of modern living.
Secondly, I have heard some proponents of workouts insinuate that no pain equals to no gain. I support that statement in principle. I want no pain as I want to gain nothing more than what I’ve got. Besides, there are no more jogging tracks in this city. I shall stick to my golf for networking purposes only.
So to Ras and Jackie, it is not my fault that lifestyles have changed. You can shout to the rooftops about my shape – and by the way, who said that round is not a shape?