Sunday, February 05, 2006
I never got her name...
This picture has nothing to do with my current post, but it does have to do with working out which is part of the theme of today's post. I stumbled across this picture the other day. This guy can't be real. I am not so much "grossed out" by this pic as I am more of in morbid curiosity mode. I don't think that this body is possible without a serious assist from some poor bull's testicles. This guy has zero body fat on top of all of this. What does he look like when he is out of season? This picture is impossible. Amazing though. Photoshop pwns the wasteland on this one.
So I have this cyst above my right ankle. I have had her for years. I remember about four years ago when I was outside barbecuing my mother asked me about her (the cyst). That was when I started to get a little self conscious about her. Never enough to go and get her cut out though.
She has been growing.
When I would go to the gym, I would roll my sock down on it just right so that the wrinkles in the fabric obscured her little golf ball self.
But she has been growing. It isn't a HOW TO GET AHEAD IN ADVERTISING boil...she doesn't talk to me, but she might as well. She has her own personality. The whole experience reminds me of this short story that I read once called "Goosebumps" where an author writes these scary stories that affect the readers with a big bump that furrows its way under the skin and eventually consumes their brain. You can find this story in SPLATTERPUNKS 1 I think. There is no real violence in our relationship however. I haven't got the stomach to give her a beating. I just don't get down like that. I also have a hunch that she would just come back if I used physical force to make her leave.
So I went to go see Sharon, my doctor, about 3 months ago. She (Sharon) mused that I was very familiar with her (the cyst) as I showed her (Sharon) how she (the cyst) is attached to the bone underneath and how pliable she is. She (Sharon) said that I needed a specialist and she set me up for a surgery with this specialist. For the record, I never let Sharon know that I had ascribed a sex to the cyst. That might have put me in line with a different kind of specialist. The thing about surgeries is that they call you, you don't call them. So I parked all of my workout routine. At the time I was doing 3x a week, heavy irons, heavy cardio. I was also doing the racquetball thing. But if I was going to be knocked out of commission for this she-cyst, I wanted to be good and hungry for the workout when I got back into it.
At the time I weighed 200lbs. I had never weighed that much in my life. So I parked the irons. I cut my food servings WAYYYY BACK. I lost weight IMMEDIATELY. I kept on losing. I shrunk back to 180. Boy was I getting tired of being a 180lb weakling, lemme tellyuh. Furthermore, she seemed to be getting more and more pronounced as I shrunk back.
You are probably wondering why I refer to the cyst as a "she". For one, it seems to me that I would much rather have something of a female nature attached to my leg than male...do the math. For another, she isn't really hurting me. She is just there. I can pull on her and poke her and prod her and she is very patient. Much more patient than a male would be. And last but not least, she is COMMITTED. She is committed to this relationship with my leg. She doesn't want to leave, and she is doing all she can to make the relationship work. There was a period of time when she was actually hurting me. Especially when I wore my most favorite boots in the world. I think that it was a jealousy thing, and she knows that I don't have a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. I am sure that she was just trying to let me know that I look like a slight poseur when people look down and see these big-assed boots that I wear. It was her way of letting me know that she didn't appreciate the extra attention. She just wants to be attached to my leg, and not have any pressure about it. She cares for me on levels that others can't.
Amazingly enough, it was a female who told me how to get rid of her (the cyst). This female suggested that I take a brick and just smash her (the cyst). She (the female friend) said that it was the old school method. I have also considered taking a body-piercing needle and running her (the cyst) through...but I just don't have the stomach to do it. She has been with me for years. When she finally has to go, I need to make it as amicable as possible.
So last week I'd had enough of this workout-free trash. I was a wimpy, out of shape male in the throes of a sick relationship with female cyst. Solution? I went to the gym. I busted out HARD. 5 sets of bench. I never went past body weight, because I didn't want to rip anything, but man did I push it. I went back to the curls. I didn't go higher than the 45s, but I threw that stuff around. I did the preachers, the squats, the lat pulls the calf-raises the tricep extensions and the back delts. I punctuated each new set with 50-80 situps. I was back in business.
The next day I was pretty damn sore. But she (the cyst) was still there, winking at me and flirting and telling me that everything was all right and that no one had noticed her. She wants to continue this relationship. I want out. She is much too comfortable. She has become complacent. She isn't really mean-spirited, she is just taking up too much of my life right now.
The next day I also secured a phonecall from the surgeon. I go in this coming Tuesday. So much for getting back into shape. I went back in to the gym on Thursday, but I was borderline useless because of the shock my body was still in. It is Sunday today, and I will go in tomorrow morning...and then Tuesday will be chop-chop. I am sure that they are going to tell me that I shouldn't work out or do anything that will strain my stitches. I am much more worried about the emotional separation I am going to suffer through when she finally leaves me. I don't think it is going to hurt her as much as it is going to hurt me.
"She's going away...what's wrong with my life today?" COLD- STUPID GIRL
I have made it clear to all involved that I want that she-cyst in a jar. If she pops during the surgery, that will be that. I have a hunch that she won't be popping though. She is strong. Very strong. This relationship needs to end though. She is cramping my style. The problem is that I never asked her into my life. She just showed up. I never agreed to let her hang onto my leg, I just tolerated her. One day, I noticed her there, and I let her stay there. I should have gone to have her checked out right hten and there. But she brought something to my leg. Character. Casson mentioned the character of the cyst that Val Kilmer has on his arm. But I am not a Christian Scientist. I believe in doctors, and I believe that a doctor is going to finish my relationship off with my cute little cyst friend. I have been wayyy too complacent with her. So complacent that I haven't even named her. But I am attached to her rather deeply now. I need to put her in a jar when it is all done, because that bitch has been with me for too long to just dismiss her like a piece of garbage.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. So I am gonna let the doctor do it.
I'll keep you posted.