No, you shut up...

Brain – Wake up.

Body – Go away. I’m trying to sleep.

Brain – It’s 4:30am. It’s time to exercise! We love exercise!

Body – It’s Sunday. Piss off. Go without me – and no, we don’t. You’re deranged.

Brain – Oh come on, you know you like getting up early and torturing yourself.  

Body – Er, no, actually I don’t. All that endorphin shit you try to flood me with is plain annoying.

Brain – Come on fatso, get up. Don’t you want to grow up big and strong?

Body – Seriously, fuck off and let me sleep.

Brain – I can’t, Tubby.

Body – I know. You’re a pain in the arse. Anyway, it’s pouring down rain outside. I’ll get wet and melt.  

Brain – Shut up and stop whining.  

Body - No, you shut up.

Brain – Don’t you want to look all trim and lovely?

Body – Right now, podgy and feral looking work for me.

Brain – I’m just doing my job.

Body – Yes.

Brain – Work with me.

Body - No, rack off.

Brain - You're difficult but I like you and I believe -

Body – You’re not going to shut up are you?

Brain – Come on – you know me - I’m annoying. You love that about me.

Body – Fine. Whatever. I’ll get up.

Brain – That-a-girl! Go team! You can do it!

Body – Did I mention shut up before?

Brain – I knew you’d get up.

Body – Smart arse.

Ponderation...

So, I went to a RPM class today. It’s where you join a class of people all on stationary  bikes, that have gears, and you torture yourself by changing gears to make the ride harder, faster, more painful as you pedal like mad, stand and pedal, sit and pedal and sweat profusely as loud, fast paced music pounds away in a room that is darkened but for those black lights that make your white socks glow and the instructor yells at you to go harder and faster and daring you to give up. As if. Anyway, as I was doing the pedal, stand, sit, sweat, looking at my glowing white socks, it occurred to me that my arse was on fire with pain. Why? Those bike seats are small. Fat arse + small seat = youch and bloody hell.  

This made me ponder the scientifics of arses. Surely a larger arse would make the ride easier?  You know more padding, less bone exposure on a teeny, weeny seat. But it doesn’t and I was thrilled at the standing up and pedalling like mad parts. Sitting? Not so thrilled. So, if a larger arse doesn’t cushion pain, what happens to people with small bums? Is it a case, as I tried to explain my theory to a good friend who always looks at me with that indulgent you’re-mad-look-but-being-a-friend-I-will-listen-to-your-latest-theory, that smaller bottoms some how mystically fit the seat better because there’s no overflow and therefore less pressure on sensitive areas of derriere and lady bits?

It’s a ponderation…bums…always with us…always causing problems.