Yes, I watch too much television. I'm slowly sinking into the lovely spot in the couch that my fatty-butt has made and I get lulled into a sense of security that can only be disrupted by the roommates yelling "From the top rope" as they launch themselves from the far arm of the couch, elbow-first into my kidneys or by the cat deciding that I am his pet, and thus should be petting him.
While in this blissful stupor last night, I was treated to a double-header of excellent television on A&E. I'm not really sure how "Intervention" and "Obsession" are considered arts and entertainment television, but that's an entirely different rant for a different day. These two shows are absolutely fascinating. "Intervention" is about.. yeah, interventions. Last night's show was particularly interesting in the sociological/psychological fashion, though, as it was focused on a set of twins who were anorexic. Each one wanted to be "the skinny twin" and both ended up under 100 lbs. Sickening for college-aged girls who were yeah, about my height and slight of build to begin with. The thing I found most intriguing was the fact that they made rules for each other. . . You can only eat this much and can't go to the gym without me. They had become so codependent that it was really bizarre. They loved each other, slept in the same bed and all, but these two girls also HATED each other with a very bizarre passion. I simply can't imagine.
I didn't get to see the end of the show because at this point, I decided I wanted some cheesy tater tots and a chocolate milkshake from burger king. I'm a happy fatty. (You may think I added this to the story to be funny. It actually happened. My life is like a bizarro-world episode of Seinfeld.)
When I returned, summarily satiated at least for the moment, "Obsession" was on. It's a weekly show about Obsessive Compulsives and very interesting. The one I thought was most strange was this guy, we'll call him Steve, that was afraid of dying. He was very mathematically minded and catalogued all his doings: workouts, left turns, everything. He was married and had kids (wow.. that must've been awful for his wife).
I think the thing that most struck me was that he HAD to work out at least 8 times a day. 8 - times - a - day.
It boggles the mind how he had time to do anything else in his life. Most especially since he couldn't turn right. . . Like Zoolander. Yeah, I made the joke.
So I'm thinking to myself: "What job could I possibly do that would allow me to work out 8 times a day" . . . never mind the fact that I , the happy fatty, would NEVER even think of trying to work out more than once a day, excluding renn events. Apparently this guy was working on a book contract. I wish!
He got ANGRY that he could only work out twice a day - therapist's orders - and by the end of the show had managed to only conquer turning left and taking the obsession of working out down to five times a day. He also still takes over 2,000 pills a month (hello, can we say ridiculously expensive!?) to make sure he's healthy. I just want to impart here that if he DOES manage somehow to live forever, he's going to be homeless for all the money he spent on pills, gym memberships and eating healthy.
Conclusion: If you're an out of work author, you run the risk of becoming a death-obsessed compulsive exercise-a-holic. Note to self: Never consider writing as a career path.
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