It’s getting warmer outside now and I know this because I’m feeling the primordial urge to lose weight. It’s not that I’m trying to be more attractive, because I’m already married and therefore don’t really have to look good anymore.
Since I initially received this revelation, I’ve embarked upon a year-long pursuit of slovenly behavior and physical neglect that has led me to the point at which I now am—that of not being able to button up my pants. Thus, I am implementing the following weight-loss regimen:
1] Cutting out every food that makes life interesting, and
2] Doing something called “exercise,” which I’ve come to learn is a fancy way of saying “manual labor.”
Why is it that a guy will pay good money to have someone to do his yard work for him and then turn around and fork over more cash for a health club membership?
Want a workout program? Here’s an idea. Join Charles’ Fitness Club! I have advanced exercise machines that you can push around my yard while benefiting from a thorough aerobic workout. Don’t worry about buying any expensive workout togs either. Just wear some old worn-out clothes like the kind you’d wear, say, to do yard work.
How much weight am I trying to lose? About one glub. The word “glub” is derived from the Latin word “glubus” which, when translated, literally means “disgusting roll of blubber.” It is that portion of your belly that you grab when you look in the mirror and say, “Sheesh, I need to lose weight.”
If you need both hands to grab it, that’s what you call two glubs. If you have your wife come in and grab the third glub, that’s what you call a strange relationship that is in need of professional counseling.
Forget about pounds and inches. What we all want to lose is our glubs. Why not just say it?
Sometimes people scoff when I tell them I’m trying to lose weight because they think I’m too skinny to have to worry about it. They believe this because I don’t advertise my glubs. Glubs should never, and I mean never, be seen. They should be locked away like The Idiot’s Guide to Nuclear Bomb Construction.
But I’ve noticed that glubs aren’t the only thing we hide from each other, are they? In this country of “I’m fine. How’re you?” we routinely mask our insecurities and weaknesses so that people will think the best of us.
The downside is if we never share the deep undercurrents of our lives, then our relationships are only ankle deep. Let’s be honest. Everyone has difficult times in their relationships and finances.
Everyone struggles with sin. Why can’t we share these difficulties with each other?
In John 14:6b, Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life…” It seems to me that truth does appear to be an integral part of the gospel, doesn’t it? As Christians, we aren’t called to present a facade of perfection to the world but to proclaim a God who is present and relative in a world of turmoil. In short, in order to communicate a real God, we might have to start getting real ourselves.
So how are my glub-reducing efforts going? Thus far, my attempts have been typical, by which I mean I’ve gained about five or six pounds, or one-half glub. Which reminds me—I am now accepting applications for my fitness club. I’ll have your exercise equipment standing by.
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