My rectus abdominus is not a morning person. That is to say it doesn’t like rude awakenings. But last night, at the gym, it called me a bitch. Just right there. Right out loud. And then it shuffled off in a bathrobe to make coffee.
Ultimately, that’s a good sign. You only make coffee when you know you’re going to be up for awhile, right? I’ve always sought out The Actor Body. The body of a true performing artist. And while granted, a performing artist does not have to be thin – Miss Dirty Martini is an example- I’m just not at my physical best at the moment. And the thing is, it’s 5 pounds that did it. I’m looking to lose more than that, but it was 5 pounds that went and pissed me off. I was being lazy this summer. Sigh. So yo ho ho and a bottle of Advil.
While I am seeking An Actor Body, as I reach the peak of a treadmill hill program I often wonder what ever happened to the Rubens? You know? That aesthetic was pretty flash in the pan, huh?
Anyhoo, by Actor Body, I mean like those super physical-looking actors. Actors who look like they probably take a ballet class. Actors who have headshots with like, black tank tops, and crazy messy buns on top of their head. You should know my headshot will NEVER look like this. EVER. I would not take a photo for mass distribution in a black tank top, or a messy bun. I just want it to be an option. An option I can dispose of quickly. Basically I want to be able to lift my arms up over my head without either being embarassed, or wearing a leotard. No matter how etched my abs may be, however, I will continue to wear leotards. Because I love them. Not because I am trying to cover up my stomach. I don’t want to be able to do this:
but just for a second, it would be okay if you thought that maybe I’d be up to giving it a whirl.
But then again, I fell off a stability ball.