I'm Getting Fat and Really Need a Haircut

I must be part bear or something.

Invariably, when the fall/winter comes, I mysteriously pack on like 20 pounds and proceed to look like absolute garbage for the next 5 months. It would be OK if I hibernated or something, but I actually go out in public like this. Not good.

Part of the problem is that my level of activity drops into the negative range when the weather gets cold around here. Another part of the problem is that I consume beer and fried food like it was manna from heaven. And it is. But even manna needs to be eaten in moderation.

I don't mind outdoor activities, mind you. Me and the wife enjoy walks and even got into bouncing up and down with sneakers on this past season. Some call this "jogging", but I found myself going much further vertically than horizontally. Maybe I'm not doing it right. Maybe I am just lazy and don't understand why I need to run anywhere, when I have a perfectly good car that can get me where I want to go in a fraction of the time and perspiration.

We also invested in some exercise DVDs and these exercise pads that we put on the floor when watching said DVDs to keep our rug from smelling like an old sheepdog when we are done destroying our bodies. One of the DVDs has some woman instructing us on such torturous activities as "lunges" and "squats". I might not be Jack LaLanne, but I fail to see the benefit of such exercises if I do them for 15 minutes and then spend the next week and a half in a wheelchair, unable to walk, because it feels like someone sheared off my hamstrings with a machete.

The second DVD we had was a little more up my alley. This one was "8 Minute Abs". In time it takes me to listen to a Coheed and Cambria song, I can have a rock solid set of muscles in my stomach that will be covered by a shirt and completely undetectable 99.9% of the time. We pop that one in and there is a guy instructor who has a ripped physique and a hairstyle that makes me wonder if he was in A Flock of Seagulls at one time. And then the spandex. I can't forget the spandex. Lots of it. Electric blue with yellow lightning bolts. He looked like Shazam's cousin. You know, the one that was a florist/poet by day, crime-stopping ab maniac by night. That one.

Anyway, the horror of that tape lies in the fact that this isn't just a one-shot "8 minute" iron maiden for your bread basket. Uh-uh. I need to devote 480 seconds EVERY DAY to just to start to possibly look like Shazam's cousin. I'm sorry. I just don't have the intestinal fortitude or the interest in daffodils for such a commitment.

Sure, we COULD go to the gym, but that would require us to exercise among of an entire building full of Shazam's cousins and Dyna-Girls. I'm a little self-conscious in these scenarios and end up setting the weight machine thing to some Schwarzeneggerian number to "show off" and then proceed to rip my arms from my torso, like in that "All Steroid Olympics" skit on Saturday Night Live. Besides, I don't get the whole "weight lifting" thing. First of all, the weights are so, how to put it...heavy. Second, it is completely impractical and unnecessary to lift weights. If some guy is changing a tire on his car and the jack gives way and the car falls on him...sorry, that's what Superman is for. I ain't lifting it. Let Krypton Boy do it.

So, that explains why I am getting fatter.

Now, I haven't had a haircut in over a year and I'm bearing more than just a vague resemblance to this guy:

In hair only. Not wardrobe. Hell, if I walked around looking like this, I could justify lifting weights and working on my abs.

So, now my hair is just this out-of-control atmosphere that surrounds my head. I recognize it is out-of-control. It's hard to deny when I wake up with it in my mouth. But I'm lazy and don't want to get a haircut. Besides, look what that did for Sampson. I'm already pissing and moaning about exercising and "lifting". Imagine how much gnashing of teeth there would be if I was even WEAKER!

Finally, I'm growing some weird mustache, chin thing beatnik facial hair-type science project. Honestly, it looks like there was a power outage halfway through me firing up the Norelco. Not sure what this is all about either. All I know is that we picked up our wedding photo albums last weekend (after 13 months) and I was clean-shaven with a short haircut in all of the shots. And everyone kept looking at them saying, "Dim, look at how nice you look!" I understand the underlying context though. Which is, "What the hell happened and when did you get a job living under a bridge and eating children on their way to school?" This telepathy thing...it rules.

Anyway, I'm getting bigger and hairier and don't really feel like doing much about it now.

I'm going to have a beer and some Chicken McNuggets. It's 5:00 somewhere.

Dim.