Smismon

I realized something today from talking to a few costumers at work today.

You know those really big guys that train almost every day at the gym?
I think they’re horrible boyfriends. Really horrible. I mean think about it. Every second day they spend an hour and a half looking at their muscles in the mirror, while they lift heavy things. It looks as if they absolutely ADORE their own reflection.

My thought was basically this: If they’re so obsessed with how they look from every single angle, how big they are and how tanned they are. Then how on earth could they be bothered thinking about their girlfriends?

I think guys like that find girlfriends that care just as much about how THEY look. That way they can keep telling each other how good the other is looking and have a nice and shallow relationship.

I like to think I’m meant for something better than that…

I talked to the clerk in the neearest 7-11 today =)

He was a nice guy with a great taste in music.

Today I felt weak.
So I walked around on my hands for a while, took some push-ups and swam a mile after work (I’m a lifeguard).

After having physically asserted myself I felt exhausted and burnt out in that satisfying way normally only reserved for marathons and divine sex.

You might think that this entry is a comment on how I failed in reaching the above goal, but notice that it was me, myself and I that decided to feel weak.
And there’s a huge difference between doing something out of self-motivation, and getting your self-esteem blown to smithereens from a Calvin Klein male underwear model with a sixpack so tight that you could in fact effectively clean a pair of panties on it.

Keep tryin’ Calvin… You and your pretty boys ain’t got nothing on me!

I rock, therefor I am.
Lotta love
Simon