Sunday, August 07, 2011

Memento Fatty

Tradition has it that in ancient Rome conquering generals who paraded through the streets in celebration of their victory had a slave behind them whose duty it was to continuously utter a single phrase in order to remind the proud generals of their own mortality.
That was the memento mori; remember you will die.
Or, as it's more commonly stated in popular culture, "Remember, thou art mortal."
The point being, sure, you're hot stuff now, but one day you'll be worm food just like the rest of us, so don't get too full of yourself.
Not being a conquering general, I don't need any such a reminder, but - whether I need it or not - I do frequently receive what I call the memento fatty.
It's a reminder that, for as much weight as I've lost, and as much muscle, tone, and definition as I've built up, I'm still not exactly Mr. Universe material.
Remember, thou art a fat ass...
For example, the other night I went to see Cowboys and Aliens with Scott and Casey.  We went to a later show, so I had time to go home and change out of my work clothes:

(Jon takes off shirt.  Looks in mirror.)
Me:  Nice.  Lookin' good!
(After getting home from the movie, which contained scenes of a shirtless Daniel Craig, Jon undresses for bed, and accidentally sees himself in the mirror.)
Me:  Gah!  Put that away!
Srsly, in the parlance of the Internet, "No homo, but have you seen Daniel Craig without his shirt on?"

Earlier today, I received yet another memento fatty while doing some stretching exercises.
I made the horrifying mistake of doing so with my shirt off.
It wasn't so bad until I did that thing where you start out on your back and then you lift your legs and lower body up until your feet are straight up in the air and you're balancing on your neck and shoulders.
As I looked up and saw my stomach giving way to the inexorable pull of gravity, I felt like I was a 1950s' teenager trying desperately to escape fom The Blob.
"My god, it's oozing right towards me, and nothing can stop it!"
Memento fatty.
(And yes, I do know enough about Latin to realize that's not even close to how something like that would be said.)


Anonymous said...

As one who also is on the "treadmill" towards a healthier body, I've started to see the thought process a bulimic goes through. I've lost 30 pounds, and have felt pretty darn happy about. I FEEL better, I've been told how good I look. But the more I work- out, the more I see the flaws, the lack of muscle...the extra skin DUE to weight loss....ect. And unhappiness does tend to creep in. In fact, it's something I need to be on guard about so as not to obsess about it. The point is....YOU DO LOOK GOOD. Trust me. ;)

Heimdall said...

But yeah, the extra skin due to weight loss is annoying, and that's really the *ahem* "bulk" of my problem.
But I don't let it get me down for too long, and I'm still up at 4:30 every morning (during the week, anyway) sweating and grunting my way towards better health.
And yes, I realize that do look good...provided I'm always standing up. A soon as I sit down, it's another matter entirely...