Laws of Motion

Sir Issac Newton seems like he was a pretty smart guy. While most of his ‘laws’ of motion have since been proven essentially false, this shit seems spot on to me. I don’t care what people say, Newton clearly knew what it was like to be a fat chick. And considering that he was peddling these wares back in the 1700s, I think he should be credited with the founding of The Diet. You think he wasn’t referring to big girls and their love of num nums/ aversion to exercise? I beg to differ, friend.

1. Every body will remain at rest or in a uniform state of motion unless acted upon by a force. I don’t know about every body, but this body (especially the hind quarters) certainly remains at rest unless acted upon by an outside force. That force is usually my mind, telling me to lift said ass off the couch and haul it to the very expensive gym, throw it on the treadmill and tough it out for a few hideous sweaty minutes. Oh, and sometimes, it’s Lisa. She basically says the same thing.

I started thinking about this lately in terms of diet/exercise/weight loss. About momentum. About how when I am doing nothing, it is so hard to do something. So hard to do anything. And that conversely, when I am doing the right things, it is that much easier to keep doing them. Keeping momentum is easy enough. Gaining momentum is hard as hell. Thus, I sit here, waxing philosophical about Ike Newton, while tasty mini quiches bake up in the oven, instead of aerobicizing on my living room floor, or better yet, sleeping so I might actually make the gym tomorrow. You with me so far?

2. When a force acts upon a body, it imparts an acceleration proportional to the force and inversely proportional to the mass of the body and in the direction of the force. So a little nudge on my not so little frame doesn’t get the job done. I need motivation on a massive scale. I need doctors predicting doom, or new weights reached that I have yet to see, or fat pants popping a button. The acceleration is proportional to the force. It occurs to me that I may not have been forceful enough to actually generate motion in this mass of a body. Fuck it all, my stepfather was right. Man was always telling me you can’t half ass everything.
I had all this motivation a month ago. SBD, guns blazing, on a Wednesday, with my Aunt Flo in town, without a plan, without a net, without an ounce of doubt. Who the hell was that chick? And where is she? She stuck around for a few weeks. I took her ass on vacation. She was there with me in the Quickie Mart when I opted to by no bags of Chocolate Peanut Butter covered Bugles. But by the time we got to the house, she was nowhere in sight. And she hasn’t shown her face again since. Bitch.

3. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. This might be the most true…or the most false. I agree that Ike knew his shit that every action has a reaction. But it is always an opposite reaction? Not so much. I mean, if I take action and go to the gym, or put down a Twinkie (yes, I realize neither of these has happened lately, so perhaps time clouds my view) then there is a reaction. Such as I am sweaty (gym) or sad (Twinkie). Unless he meant that my moving OFF the couch, I am then NOT ON it! Ah – ha! And if I move the Twinkie away from my lips *sniffle* then it does not go in my mouth. I see. Well played, Sir.
So, if that is true, than in doing something, I am not doing nothing. So maybe I should just do something. Which is the opposite of now, when I am doing nothing. And in not doing nothing, I will have done something. Well, isn’t that something? Or is it nothing? My mindgasms are dizzying, no?
So, in anticipation of writing this blog that has been all kinds of about in my head for days, I knew someone would inevitably want to know what I was in fact going to do, or if I was all talk and was going to continue to do nothing, I did something. Or somethings.
Crap-cleanse. No, not the Master Cleanse, you can keep your spicy lemonade and I will keep the years of colonic build up, kthanksbye. I cleanse the house of the crap. Blondies, Whipped Feta Dip and Fresh Tortilla Chips, Apple Crisp Sundae Bowl, all brought over to my mom and sister. I grew up poor; you never throw out food, even if it means you have to make someone else fat and unhealthy in the process. And once I eat the aforementioned quiches, and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Magic Brownies, the house will be exorcized of the demonic food that possesses me. I suppose I could have brought those to my mom too, but even serial killers get a final meal, right?
Gym Plan: Like go. That is sort of the plan. I pay over $100 a month to have the luxurious gym at my disposal, so if I am not going to drag my self to water aerobics (fat chick exercise Mecca), then I have to give it up. And since it has 5 pools, a sauna, a steam room and a hot tub, there is no way in hell I am canceling my membership. I am going to indulge in something, damn it.
New job: Requires lots of face to face client contact. I need an ass smaller than this, if for no other reason than to fit into my nice work clothes that I will now need to wear regularly. And since said new job comes with a fat raise, I am thinking it is time to let someone who knows what they are doing (i.e. not me) color my hair. I am motivated by material crap. What can I say, I am a shallow girl?

So, tomorrow, she is a Wednesday. And Auntie Flo is back in town. What do you think my chances are that ass kicking chick is going to show up and throw some proportional force my way? Me and Ike, we think they are looking pretty damn good.