Step Three: Get off the damn couch!
Few things are more upsetting that waking up with a fat, sweating heifer in your bed. One of these things is finding out that the fat, sweating heifer is YOU. So now we take at look at a Man’s Body. Ladies, un-moisten your crotches, there will be no shirtless fire fighters here today. Ok, fine! You can have one! But no more or you’ll spoil your appetite (and possibly start want unrealistic things).
We’re not talking about the chiseled jaw and rock hard abs of an underwear model. We shall consider that the equivalent of a rocket-powered school-bus; It’s be nice to have but it’s not really practical for everyday life.
Take a good look at yourself in the mirror. If you have "poor body image" it may not be a result of the media constantly blasting you with images of muscle-bound movie stars and athletes. There is a chance, just a chance mind you, that you feel like you’re fat, pale and unfit because you look like John Goodman after he discovered the all-you-can-eat buffet. There’s nothing wrong with that if you’re happy living the life that fat, pale unfit people live. You can complete all the video games you’ve been meaning to finish, you can ride a mobility-scooter down to the shops, you can wash yourself with a rag on a stick. Great, huh?
The other alternative is to actually look after yourself and occasionally go for a jog. This may be a foreign concept to some but being part of a sporting team, joining a gym, or just generally being regularly engaged in some physical activity more strenuous than masturbating can have unexpected benefits. Sporting teams often contain people who have similar interests, like drinking, and strippers, while drinking.
Other benefits include; leaving the house occasionally, socialising, cheerleaders, winning, end of season piss-trips, mid season piss-trips, discovering that strippers use your gym (they have to stay in shape too you know), strippers on stair-masters, strippers on fit-balls, and so on.
A friend of mine recently discovered the joys of movement though the medium of volleyball. If you’ve never watched women’s beach volleyball on TV you missed out on one of puberty’s great joys (alongside Victoria’s Secret catalogues and busty student teachers). My friend after some urging felt that his previous athletic endeavours had tapered off a little, much in the same way that sales of laser-disc players have tapered off, and decided to reacquaint himself with his old high-school sport of volleyball. The result was noticeable. His health improved, he regained some of his lost strength and he was more active and seemed to be generally happier. Who knew that the simple act of women jumping up and down in tight shirts could bring so much joy?
If one of your manly friends wants you to join him in a quick bout of bear-boxing or chainsaw-fencing you should wouldn't want to turn him down. You damn sure better not pony up some excuse like "I'm scared" or "i'm busy playing xbox". Life is about getting up and doing something with your day. No-one wants to sit there at the end of a day and think "i did absolutley nothing today, same as yesterday" unless they've earned it and are bone weary from spending the last three weeks running from hostile militia in a war-torn province of Craplakistan when you're not busy seducing the entire population of the local covent. If you've done that you have earned the right to do nothing for a couple of days. Once you're done bragging. And rehydrating.
A man should generally keep himself reasonably fit. If you’re a Man, you should be able to spring into action when required. You should be able to carry heavy objects for attractive women, carry attractive women, or at least have a waist line smaller than the tyres on your car. No-one likes hairy bitch-tits, but you don’t need to have a six-pack to be a Man or have guns that need to be licensed in three states. You just need to know you’re capable of difficult physical tasks, like outrunning the fat chick you were laughing at after she slid off the bench you just spent an hour teflon-coating.
Trust in this, you’re never going to wish you were less fit, especially when you’re vaulting a six-foot fence with your pants in your hand because that cute little blonde’s dad just came home and found you two in the spa. On a school night. The week after you broke up with her sister.
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