Randy went for a walk this morning, it was 05.45 and it was really lovely. The sunshine warmed his recently shaved head while the gentle breeze flowed across his generous belly like a dew covered spider’s web. One that he didn’t want to remove.
This began today’s story for Randy’s and his new personal blog. It was to be called Randy Business. An expose of Randy’s thoughts, dreams, realisation and disdain for the world he found himself in. He endured a cruel world and was far too randy for his own good. (ed. American’s won’t understand that bit) He continued:
The first dangerous hill section blew the insides out of Randy. He struggled to breath and maintain any semblance of suave. That was the look Randy sought, fought, lost and never regained. He was soon to be 63 and walked about like an 80 year old with two limps. He couldn’t get out of chairs without drama and noise. His farting also provided drama and noise but that was relatively under control, unlike his need to wee.
Time to wee
Having a tinkle seemed to dominate Randy’s life. Where he was, when he was there, why and what he had to do. Even thinking of those considerations was all too much, often diverting from the where, when, why and what altogether. He’d now avoid New York, Miami (not the USA one), the shops, the longer meetings and the shorter ones although they were OK sometimes. Randy was held prisoner by his bladder, the bloody thing had a mind of its own.
Randy enjoyed the walk though, the weather, the relative pain the topography provided and the fact that his other aliments seemed to only scream some 40 metres from home meant it had worked its magic. Randy was buggered.
The neighbours would laugh seeing him struggle up the hills. In fact, months ago he used to clamber north, north west, west, south and finally north again to home. Some serious hills that didn’t stop. Near death each time he made it to the top. Well after some time off from that experience he’s changed direction and did the reverse route. Much easier but in his current state it still offered a near death experience.
Randy was getting a belly that seemed to defy physics. It was larger than he, it was the sum of parts being larger than the whole. He tried to eat less, more, better, faster, slower, by colour and by weight but none of that worked. He knew he had to bash the shit out of his body doing some sort of vigorous exercise, but his body wouldn’t allow that to be applied. He hated the pain, all the supposed gain it would obtain. He’d cancelled his gym membership due to injuries. He wondered what to do. He sat with a snack in front of the TV while pondering his next lethargic move.
Time to write
He had it, jump up and write a piece outlining his predicament. Surely that might embarrass him into changing his behaviour, doing some painful exercise and losing the belly fat. The belly fat that had developed over 50 odd years and resisted all efforts to remove. Maybe the cut and suck of the liposuction nozzle is the answer.
That’s it he’d research liposuction for this belly. After seeing a Four Corners story covering an Australian cosmetic surgeon’s empire and practices, he decided against it. What ever you do, don’t research liposuction just after having your lunch. Randy had suddenly lost his lunch and the breakfast toast as well. The regurgitation didn’t reduce the size of the belly, but it did bring up a few things.
So, Randy sat back down, wiping his chin like a very shy Japanese girl and wondered what to do. He heated up his pasta, cream sauce, carbonara meal, prepared the bread accompaniment, his third cup of coffee and a small packet of smiths plain crisps. Maybe it’s items like these that have lead to the rotund roundness he sported.
He wondered how many would read stories like this. Probably not very many, it would be a niche market. He aimed to tap into older men called Randy seeking weight reduction and gentle exercise. It almost triggered a Google censorship not normally applied to G rated blogs. Randy Business might be the issue, it might not remain G rated.
