Bug Diet

Exercise and myself have a bad relationship. Let's face it, exercise most likely doesn't have a very good relationship with anyone because it evokes suicidal thoughts, physical pain, and the necessity of exerting force. You can't cheat and bribe someone into giving you stamina, or even lending you some nice abs for a night. For a long time I used comedy, like I do in many situations, to fend off physical activity of any sort; and then my childhood metabolism stopped and eating meals consisting soley of potato chips and five cent candy became impossible. Well, possible but with some ass jiggle on the side. Thus, I now try to make exercise something that slyly leaches it's way into my week.

There's one slight problem that I find myself getting into time after time, mainly due to my own lack of motivation. Since I can only really run on an empty stomach, I spend the whole day in starvation mode because I can't make myself go. I try many times unsuccessfully to commence the running, and end up watching TV (successfully) instead. The thing is, in this period of time, I don't eat anything because I know then that I won't be able to run, and deep down, in a part of me I may never find, I do actually have the desire to run. I spend half the day moping around my house in a melancholy stupor, seeing dots because I'm so light headed, and feeling sorry for myself because I'm hungry. My unhappiness is strange and cyclical in nature, with a seemingly obvious solution. You would think I could put two and two together and just run earlier rather than later in the day, but I'm usually lacking in the healthy breakfast department so my brain performance tends to be quite hindered.

Today while I was ACTUALLY running, I inhaled a small flying bug. Unfortunately, it was not the first time I've done this, and considering the density of insects that reside on my running route, it won't be the last. When I tell Allan about the feeling of a bug flying in your mouth yet being stuck in your thick spit, he practically convulses into phobic reactions as he tells me to "Shut up, seriously Carm, I won't, I can't I CANNOT TALK TO YOU ABOUT THIS." I figure the sight of him swallowing a bug would look dangerously similar to seeing his computer being smashed with a baseball bat over, and over, and over again. The seizures, the look of horror in his unsuspecting blue eyes, and the final collapse to the floor in efforts to let his unconscious mind deal with the unthinkable reality of his life. I couldn't help but think, as the bug fluttered around in the back of my throat, that it was in fact the first caloric intake I'd ingested all day.

The bug on the other hand was probably thinking about what a stupid, breathes-a-lot human I am.