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Body for Life?
When you're a busy entrepreneur,
it's sometimes hard to find the time to take care of yourself.
I took a long look in the mirror
the other day and concluded that I was just about worth shooting.
My hair was graying
My hairline was receding
My cheeks were sagging
My eyelids were drooping
My shoulders were narrowing
My back was stooping
My skin was pale white
My neck was red
My teeth were yellowing
My stomach was protruding
And my derriìre wasæ
Well, let's not get too personal
here.
But given the severity of the situation,
life just didn't seem much worth living anymore.
I had reached rock bottom.
Then, in my moment of ultimate despair
-- just as I was fumbling around awkwardly in search of the
phone number for Dr. Jack Kervorkian, which I had scratched
out hastily on a small slip of paper the last time I was in
a like frame of mind -- an angel appeared.
Actually, it turned out to be my
sister-in-law who, at that moment, had something of a heavenly
glow about her. She had just returned from her morning workout
- and she looked good.
Sensing my dejection, or perhaps
just feeling sorry for my pitiful persona, she shared three
magical words as she breezed past me to the kitchen to measure
out her morning ration of granola and skim milk.
"Body for Life," she said simply.
"Body for Life?" I inquired, following
her into the kitchen. "What's that?"
"It's a book," she stated matter
of factly.
I was intrigued. So pouring myself
an extra-large bowl of Captain Crunch and grabbing the last
of the day-old doughnuts from the counter I joined her at
the table.
"Body for Life, huh? I've never
heard of it."
"Obviously not" she replied curtly.
She proceeded to explain that it
was a diet and fitness program designed to breathe vitality
into even the most grotesquely out of shape individuals.
"Do you think it could do anything
for me?" I asked hopefully.
She gave me a quick once over, grimaced
slightly, and concluded: "It sure couldn't hurt."
She thrust the book at me as she
departed. "Here, have a look - it might just change your life."
It turns out the book is full of
testimonials. It contains page after page of "before" and
"after" pictures of supposedly regular, ordinary, average
people much like myself, who had transformed themselves from
something resembling the Pillsbury dough boy to statuesque
models of physical perfection by using this program.
Visions of massive biceps and rippling
pectorals began to fill my mind. I reasoned that if the low
life's in these pictures could do it then perhaps a low life
like myself might do it also.
This was downright exciting. I couldn't
wait to get started. Shoveling down the rest of my Captain
Crunch, I took my doughnut and wandered off to search out
the secrets of the beefy author on the cover of the book.
For the next three days I followed
the diet and training regimen in meticulous detail. Each day
started with half a grapefruit and a large glass of water.
For lunch it was plain tuna (packed in water, not oil) crumbled
over a large slice of lettuce. For dinner, there was a cup
of thin broth and a small helping of low fat gelatin.
The exercises were grueling and
unrelenting. It seemed that there was hardly time to fit in
a job - let alone have any fun - with the demands of this
workout. And my body ached in places that were simply not
meant to ache.
I quickly noticed that the energy
and vitality that were supposed to accompany these strenuous
workouts seemed to be severely lacking. I literally crawled
into bed each night.
After three agonizing days, I concluded
that this was no way to live a life. I mean, wasn't there
just a pill or something I could take?
My sister in law didn't even pretend
to hide her disgust at my puniness as I quietly returned the
book.
But in the end, she was right. The
book did change my life. I went back to my old lifestyle with
a renewed sense of enthusiasm and vigor. I had a totally new
outlook on life. I was full of boundless energy - (not to
mention sugar).
I would heartily recommend the book
to anyone who is feeling discouraged about their current situation.
Now, if you'll please excuse meæ it's time for my daily twinkie
run.
Skip
the Vacuum Cleaner, Bring out the Hose...
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