Nor Atkins, SouthBeach, Zone, or Dukanatarian
I don’t eat things called carbohydrates, or protein, or fat.
I just eat food
That I like
Which tastes good, & sometimes even orgasmic
And contributes to my happiness
Usually things which grew from the earth
And, or things which used to breathe
In no particular order nor consistency
In their most natural forms
Hence I love sashimi
And steak tartar
And bryndza (sheep cheese), especially. Though I don’t descriminate against other cheeses
Not forgetting dark chocolate, and nuts, and seeds
Sometimes cooked, sometimes raw, all jumbled up
Tra la la
With the occasional Magnum thrown in
Not the gun, the almond one
I eat when I’m hungry, as opposed to when I should
And I don’t eat breakfast
Just food, sometimes 2, sometimes 5 times a day, or maybe more
And water, lots and lots of water, blessed, of course.
Guiness too. I kid you not-It saved a deteriorating mans life once, and I’m sure (well I imagine, and not guess), that if his health was to deteriorate again, he would forgo all the doctors who couldn’t help him last time, and drink Guinness. Again.
Bless the Guinness too.
I don’t use sun block. That’s as ludicrous as water block
Though too much of anything isn’t good for me, and probably you too
Except love and laughter, there’s always more to be had
And inner-peace (not peas-though I love them, but too many of them would turn me green, which I don’t want to be-nothing against the Incredible Hulk nor ninja turtles, regardless as to whether they’re Teenage and Mutant)
Hormones. May as well be ‘mones of hor’s, or “whoremoans.”
I don’t care about any of them, but especially: insulin, estrogen & testosterone. Nor moobs (man-boobs). I’m happy with my own, thank you, and that’s enough.
And my hips. They don’t lie.
Though I shower myself with love everyday, I don’t, in fact, wash my hair everyday
Maybe twice or thrice or even once. A week. Whenever need be, that is my way
I am neither fat nor thin, nor lean nor chubby. I am perfect as I am and that’s why I’m so free
I don’t jog.
Nor Bootcamp, per se
I no longer have a six pack
AND.I.DON’T.CARE.AND.I.DON’T.CARE.AND.I.DON’T.CARE.AND.I.DON’T.CARE. AND.I.DON’T.CARE.AND.I.DON’T.CARE.At all.
I move. I challenge. I flow. I press. I pull. I twist. I resist. I sprint. I walk. Alot, because I love it. And I do what I love, and love what I do
Age – is what it is and matters not
Calories – none of my business, [because if grandma turned out ok after all these years not knowing of their existence, (even with all the invisible friends whom she chats with daylong), they can’t matter]
Men – Once you go Slovak, you never go back. And never say never.
Weight- Don’t wait, stop now. At what point did a scale become so “holy”-determining moods, whole days & lives? Get off and chuck that
shit scale out
Fat%age – same as calories
Size-I don’t have a size. I have a style and pick garments according to it ranging from 34-42, or XS-XL, in fashion jargon…Key word being JARGON. aka: bullshit
Time: I like the way 3:33 looks, 11:11 too. Otherwise, besides scheduled meetings, it isn’t of importance. To me.
I am just like you, and nothing really matters. Just Live. Just Love. and laugh, don’t forget to laugh.
What’s your deal…who are you?
As always, love & light :*