Something for Something

As a brief introduction to myself and my situation, I have to mention that I am an unemployed 28-year-old male living with his parents.  Not in his “mother’s basement”, haters, but in a very moderately-sized room with a door and carpeting and a walk-in closet.  This room houses most of my earthly possessions which consist primarily of digital versatile discs and paperbacks.  As a jobless cine-audio- literophile (“nerd” in layperson’s terms), I spend most of my time devouring my way through a vast and endless buffet of movies, books and albums.  I’d be remiss if I failed to mention my burgeoning video game habit.  The sum of all those wretched parts is that my once Pantragruelian physique is now something much more Gargantuan, much to my dismay. 

Having said that, things are not so dire.  Not yet, at any rate.  I’ve spent an increasing number of my free hours attending to more active pursuits and, due to a nasty case of gall stones, I have cast nearly all fatty food completely asunder.  Gone are the days of eating whatever or whenever one wants.  Doctor Atkins would shudder in his grave if he knew with how much rancor I now direct toward meat, both white and red.  If not for some of the more healthy poultry that I enjoy, I would have become a full-blown pescetarian.  All of this frightening change to stave off the exponentially more frightening inevitable for, hopefully, decades to come. 

I’m learning to embrace the change.  All in all, it feels nice to exercise and eat more for sustenance than for pleasure.  Sometimes I even browse the interwebs for places in which I am encouraged to be more active. 

I was doing exactly that when I stumbled upon an exercise program for children in my general vicinity.  I couldn’t help feeling envious of the children who take advantage of such a great program.  Before I continue, let me reiterate much I believe that these opportunities are exemplary and genius.  How different would my life be if my childhood had been more centered on fitness.  Sure, I played rec soccer and baseball from first grade to middle school, but I can’t claim to have been much of an athlete.  An adequate role player, for sure, but I wasn’t much for running, an attribute that lingers on to this day.  Luckily, on and off for the past 3 years, I have felt the various benefits of personal training.  I applaud the people who promote healthfulness in our society. 

It’s just…couldn’t they come up with a better name than Fitness for Health? 

I don’t mean to demean the nobility of their mission or sully their collective reputation, but come on…Fitness for Health?  What does that even mean?  I don’t think it’s my inner sloth rearing his ugly head when I point out that, in most circles, fitness is synonymous with health.  Even if the two words are slightly differing in meaning, they are two twigs on the very same branch.  Furthermore, why else would someone want to be fit?  Every benefit, whether becoming more acceptably attractive to the mainstream or just being able to move with more fluidity and ease, falls into that general “health” category: so much so that one would be completely well within their faculties to say that fitness is health and vice versa. 

Fitness for Health.  Pssh.  Why not Fitness for Cake?  Or Fitness for Yellow?  Perhaps the underlying lesson of this unfortunately-named fitness company is that my time reading books was time well spent. 

Signing off from the dark of the matinée.

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