I’ve been talking about being lazy and bloated for a long time. I think I bottomed out. Lately when people invite me somewhere, anywhere, I ask “ How close can I get to lying down once I get there? Are there big comfy couches? Ottomans?” usually the answer is no but every once in a while someone says something like “Last time I was there I fell asleep” SOLD! No dress code right? That’s the other thing, I’m always saying things like “OK I’ll go but I’m not changing. This is what I’m wearing.”
I’ve barely been going to the gym. I don’t think anyone there has noticed my absence. The only time someone talked to me there was three months ago. They said “ hey, wheredya get the snacks?” I am known as the girl with the outside food at my fitness facility.
I hate the gym, I always have to stop myself from approaching chubby guys and saying things like “who are we kidding? I know an ice cream shop two blocks away, whatdaya say me and you get outta here?”
I saw my old personal trainer on the street this weekend.
Here’s the scenario.
Exterior- Daytime- Smith Street, Brooklyn
Kendra is walking down the street, feeling good, eating Doritos and drinking a Fresca. A physically fit, good looking black man with a revealing t shirt appears on the scene. It is a personal trainer Kendra trained with last year. He smiles and they hug. She wipes Dorito cheese on her dress.
Personal Trainer: Let me help you.
Kendra: It’s a nice offer but I can’t be helped.
Personal Trainer: I said HOW ARE YOU?
Kendra Oh, I thought you said let me help you.
Personal Trainer You got Dorito stuff on your dress.
Kendra Yeah, I know, it doesn’t stain.
My “I can’t be helped” response to that social nicety spurred a new level of introspection. I sat down with him and had a brutally honest chat Here’s the thing, if I want to look good. Like kick ass drop dead gorgeous good, I gotta change my entire life which in turn means, a personality change.
I have to
Ok sounds doable but this is like ( hair toss) a big deal! Because, you know what?
I eat whatever the fuck I want. Everyday. No matter what time of day. No holds barred. I will order a pizza at 2 am if there is someone there to pick up the phone, take my order and bring me the food, it’ going down. All that’s coming between me and a large hamburger and onion is me hitting the speed dial? Where’s the goddamn phone? Feeling like an assorted meat sandwich from Los Paisanos but its not quite noon? Who cares? They’re open. No line. Let’s get to eating.
He asked “Do I like to prepare my own food? “ No I don’t. Everything tastes better with someone else’s elbow grease. Everything. Even a fucking cup of coffee made by a stranger tastes better than a cup of coffee I had to make. I would rather get dressed and walk three blocks in public, running the risk of bullshit conversation with a neighborhood nuisance, than have to look through the cupboards for the coffee grind filters, get the water for the machine, wait for the stuff to brew, blah blah blah.
Personality Change: Social isolation. Getting something to eat is the number one reason I leave the house.
You know what cardio means to me? Discomfort. You know what I like? Comfort. Preferably unclothed horizontal comfort. Cardio means standing up, wearing special breast supportive clothing, moving fast, panting, sweating, having a red face in public that causes others concern. Cardio is not a natural talent to me. Don’t get me wrong, I understand the benefits. It’s a mood stabilizer for me, I am pretty silly when I have cardio in my life. I feel out of character. I’m suddenly a girl who sweats out the alcohol from last night in one hour instead of 48. That alone will make you feel different. Free from the past. A three day hangover is unhealthy. It keeps you connected and rehashing post Jaegermeister behavior for longer than necessary.
Personality change: Socially estranged from drinking buddies due to inability to commiserate on bloated hangover feelings.
I had him stop there. There’s only so much an unhealthy chick can be open minded to during a caught- eating- Doritos inspired heart to heart. I joined his Tuesday morning running group. 6:30 am meeting time. I was late. I was the slowest, the reddest, and the biggest of the bunch. Even the one dude had skinnier legs than me.
Next time I’m wearing a moo moo.
What? C’mon, they’re so slimming.
Plus you can hide snacks under them.
Thanks for listening!
Kendra is a stand up comic living in Brooklyn where she owns a super comfortable bed. She spends most of her time wondering where the hell her sugar daddy is and hoping he didn’t settle. www.kendracunningham.com www.blondelogicblog.com