Photo Credit: Roman Siromakha
So, one day when I was a little boy (precisely around the 8pm, last Tuesday) I knew I would one day have to answer the dreaded question – “Why do you stay fit?”
What if, say, you decide to take a stroll through a park one fine evening. You decide to get ready, but all your stuff is in the laundry, ALL of it, except for this one tiny little hoodie you shrunk the last time you did your laundry. You try to squeeze into this hoodie, using your sheer strength built up in the gym and your mighty grip, you stretch away at the fabric being careful as to not rip it, even though your muscles are screaming “FJENKJFSOWOCXMLA!!!!” – since you don’t speak muscleanean, you just ignore the gibberish noises and continue to put on your tiny little hoodie. Once it’s on, the fabric is so tight around your arms, the veins are poking through the hoodie making it look like it’s painted on, at which point you glance at yourself in the mirror, give the swolecommander in it a wink and walk out the door. Forgetting the fact that you have nothing on except the hoodie, you quickly run back to the apartment and do a brief scavenger hunt for some pants. Once the mission is complete you finally leave the apartment for good.
Nearing a park you wanted to make a nice little stroll through, you hear a rustling in the bushes just besides the sidewalk. You pull out two guns out of your hoodie’s pocket and get into a flexing position just in case a motherf*cker would. Out of the bushes pops out this giant bear, starts yelling bear shit at you, runs towards you with his beer belly swaying in every directions and reflection in his claws blinding your eyes, as part of his attack strategy. A goddamn bear. Great.
Now you’re at a crossroads with your fit self, thinking do I use the two sturdy legs I built up doing squats and cardio, OR, do I sock this furry beast in the gut. Being an animal lover you decide to run away. The end.