King Solomon said, "The glory of young men is their strength, gray hair the splendor of the old." (Proverbs 20:29)
By this standard, my youth passed without much glory.
When I was in fourth grade, our family moved to Texas, where the blissfully unstructured "recess" time of Lawton, Oklahoma was replaced by "Phys Ed" with a real "coach." It was in this class that I learned that I was a "weenie arm." I already knew, since about first grade, that I was a chicken, so finding out that I was also a weenie arm didn't come as a complete surprise. In fact, it actually explained things a bit. It didn't bother me that much, either, since I could pretty well outrun all the other guys, especially the big ones.
Still, it was something of a relief to pass from youth into the early stages of "old." Gray hair seems to come more naturally to me than glorious, youthful strength ever did. Maybe my remaining years will have a tinge of splendor!
But not, it seems, without unwelcome reminders of my inglorious youth.
One such reminder has come in the person of a Thai friend of mine who is only half a dozen years older than I am. He has it all exactly backwards. For one thing, he has died his hair jet black. Moreover, he's been putting in overtime at the local fitness center, which he owns. He likes to wear sleeveless shirts and flex his muscles at people, especially weenie arm old men with gray hair. He caught me again at the supermarket in town the other day.
"Don't buy commercial juice," he advised me, peering into my cart. "Eat fresh food, like me. That's how you get real strength." He rubbed his forearms menacingly.
I looked in his cart. There was a big bunch of expensive grapes, some kind of greens that I didn't recognize and a loaf of bread in it. Bread?
I'm no fool. I know I'm not in good shape, but I've been doing some research into health and fitness. I might be a weenie arm, but I can google. And knowledge, as they say, is power.
"Wait a minute," I parried. "You aren't going to eat this, are you?" I lifted the bread out of his cart and held it up. "Do you have any idea how much sugar is in this stuff? It must be loaded with trans fats and trihydrocarbs," I said, using some new words I've learned from the internet. "I would never eat this! Don't you care about your health?"
He changed the subject and tried to get me to buy some beets, but fortunately they were out of them that day. He trotted off to the seafood aisle while I sneaked over to buy three bags of white sugar. Small bags, of course.
When it rains, it pours; I met him again in the check out line. I hid my sugar underneath some cookies and tried to be friendly. I also tried to keep him off balance, so I looked in his cart. Guess what? No bread! "I put it back," he conceded.
Then, he began bragging again. "I can do fifty pushups," he said. This seemed unlikely. I can do five on a good day, six if I'm really stoked. This guy is six years older than I am and he can do fifty? Sure.
On the off hand chance that I could provoke him to actually demonstrate for me, I gave voice to my suspicions. "It's true," he said and got down and did about ten pushups right there in the store. The other customers watched in stunned silence. I probably looked like a weenie arm. Shades of fourth grade. . .
I got through the check out line first and made sure I put some distance between us – I ducked into KFC for a quick lunch. I know, I know: This probably wasn't the most "heart healthy" choice I could have made. But, it was one place I knew I could go where my friend wouldn't find me!
None of which means I don't take this seriously. I do. In fact, the very next chance I get, I'm going to google "pushups."
You gotta start somewhere,
gene
PS Seriously, though, you really do have to start somewhere.
You can spend hours and days searching the internet and finding all kinds of contradictory advice. You can spend money hand over fist on supplements that will "melt the fat" off. You can get a personal trainer, join a gym or follow some wierd regimine like the "Hallelujah Diet."
And, if you don't get the results you want, you can start all over again. You sure wouldn't be the first person to do that!
Listen, here is an alternative plan: Start by reading Tom Venuto's mini-course, Big Fat Lies. Tom has given me special permission to put this course into a PDF format. You can get the entire twelve part course in one handy document, which you can read at one sitting. This is an exclusive offer, not available anywhere else! Just email me at fat.baptist.preachers@gmail.com for your copy. I'm fully set up to handle this manually, hence there may be a slight delay in getting it to you.
Or, better yet, just pick up your copy of his Burn the Fat, Feed the Muscle eBook now.
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