If there’s no bagel involved, the cashier and I have a running gag going. She’ll read off my price with some extra zeroes attached, "That’ll be 495,000 dollars."
And I’ll hand her my money along with, "There goes my life savings."
If I’m ordering the bagel, the cashier will offer me some cream cheese, which I will decline with the following statement, "No thanks, I’m watching my figure."
For some reason that last one always elicits laughter, even though I’ve cracked the joke a dozen times or more. And the truth is, I’m not entirely insincere about watching my figure. No, really. I know I weigh 140 pounds, and I can probably bench press my own bodyweight 12 times or more, but I’d really like to skinny down a little before this whole cycling season starts up. Is that really so absurd?
Occasionally my wife will catch a wiff of my avoiding dessert and chastize me for being a psycho dieter or something. "YOU’RE NOT FAT!" comes the refrain. I realize I’m not rotund or grotequely obese or anything, and I know that I’ll probably have to live with those soft curves in the love-handle area for some time, and I know that the scale is my friend. And, yes, I was paying attention when the nurse at the last doctor’s appointment told me to start eating more so my wife doesn’t outweigh me when she has the baby, but I still think I have four or six more pounds to go before I’m quite at the optimum power-to-weight ratio. And, no, I have no intention of ever being anything but a weekend warrior. But I’d still like to ride well for a weekend warrior.
That said, I just want to share with you my concept for your magazine photo ideas. Check ’em out, and tell me what you think:
P.S. UncaDan, it ain’t too late to submit yours. That would probably be pretty cool.
P.P.S. The South Beach Diet Sobe drink I’m sipping is just the result of an error. I couldn’t see the front of the bottle from the vending machine, really! I swear I haven’t gone off the deep end–yet!