Forever Young: 2 – Exercise and Touch-ups
If there’s anything that ages you quicker than chain smoking it’s fat. It seems like more and more Americans – and more and more guys, gay and str8 – don’t give two fucks how they look, and the stats prove me right. According to the federal Centers for Disease Control (CDC), up until the 1980’s one out of six Americans were considered obese; today, it’s one out of THREE!
In my day, bear used to mean humpy and hairy. Now it’s become a euphemism for obesity. I just love these “bears” prancing around the bars like peacocks with their harnesses as brasseries and look like they’re ready to drop triplets. (Who’s the baby daddy?) I saw one guy at the gym the other day big enough to be his own zip code. Christ! Don’t you ever look in the mirror??
Yea, I hate fat people not because I was fat myself. When I started getting chubby in my thirties, I did something about it. I hit the gym, despite a hectic work schedule, and watched my diet, despite the doughnuts by the office coffee machine, and I never looked back. Result: I’m in better shape now decades later than I was then.
No, I hate fat people because they’re sucking up all our healthcare dollars with avoidable diabetes, high blood pressure, high cholesterol and who knows what else. I love those commercials for some new diabetes pill. All the actors are overweight, so what’s the message? Why bother working it off? Just pop a pill and everything’s fine!
Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers and all those other quick loss hustlers are crutches. The only way to lose weight is eat less and exercise more. Period. In fact, once you get into a regular gym regimen, you’ll feel guilty when you miss a session. (Those natural endorphins will make you feel better after the shittiest day at work.)
And when it comes to diet, go to Home Depot and buy a padlock for your refrigerator. Or seriously, start eating quality microwave dinners that control caloric intake. Even if you ate two of them for dinner, you probably wouldn’t come close to the calories in one Big Mac.
Admittedly, one thing you can’t do much about unless you abuse your skin and broil in the sun is the inevitable pull of gravity. So about five or six years ago, now living in Florida, I decided to give non-invasive cosmetic surgery a try. And just to dispel the notion that this is mostly a gay boy thing, one out of five cosmetic procedures are now being done on men, many of whom need to look good to compete in the work-a-day world.
My problem is not so much wrinkles but a jowly look that most of my family suffered from after fifty. That’s why fillers that plump up your face have worked best for me, and after my first try I’ve gone back for annual “touch-up’s (since your body eventually absorbs the natural material used in the filler).
For the forehead, between the eyebrows, and crows feet, botox or disport remain the gold standard but their shelf like is much less – six months at most.
And of course none of this stuff is cheap – fillers run seven hundred a vial, botox or disport six hundred, not any of it covered by insurance, but taking five or even ten years off your face is like losing fifty pounds over night when it comes to feeling better about yourself.
Should you be down here in Lauderdale, Steve, a registered nurse who’s actually taught docs how to do it, will shoot you up for a third less than most CosSurg centers. In fact, he’s done the best job on me yet and I’m somebody who’s used them all. Send me a message and I’ll give you his number.
And for those stubborn love handles no amount of exercise will get rid of – sorry guys, those side crunches on the ab machine won’t do it – there’s cool sculpting which essentially freezes and kills the fat cells that are then excreted from the body naturally over the course of several months. When it comes to price, get ready for sticker shock (mine cost me five grand but the price has gone down with increased competition), and as long as you maintain your weight, the results are permanent!
I did it lying in a lounge chair all day while the nurse tech positioned and secured the arm of the machine on each fat pocket and left it there for an hour at a time. Now I love the way my jeans just hang there – feel like twenty-five again.
Hey, ain’t that the whole idea?
Friday: Forever Young: 3 – Testosterone Therapy