Dear Body

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Dear Body,
I’ve been working out, like, hard. For a month.
What do I hafta show for it?
A bizarre craving for Funyons (which may or may not be related…) and a lot of attention from creepy old dudes at work (that could be the bartending shirtless thing, but how else am I supposed to make tips?!?) and a whole lotta nothin’.
I mean, why do I even bother to work out? What, to be healthy and live longer? Ew, who wants that…
So here’s my solution, since you clearly don’t feel like listening to me and I don’t feel much like respecting you lately; just stay outta my way.
It’ll be hard at first since, ya know, we’re stuck with the same body and all, but we’re both grown men… or, at least we’re both the same grown man… I’m confused where I was going with this… thanks a lot, brain! You’re makin’ your way onto my shit list next…
Sincerely,
Calhoun

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6 thoughts on “Dear Body

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