Wake Up and Smell the Butter. Part I

I can smell it, the ambivalence creeping over you, throwing an indifferent haze over what you see and what you can hear. I can see that meth is bad but butter, oh well, butter is the work of the devil; the reserve of the protagonists of Channel 4 programmes. "Saturated fat clogs your arteries and will concrete your soul faster than the expectation of divine reward...brother." 

However, we've been led astray by the people we were told to trust, by a misinformed idea of the big picture, by the corporate beast and all those who have sucked so hard...like a good piggy should. Half-fat this, low-calorie that, it was all one big lie - gold leafed wool that we had pulled over our eyes.  "I see", said the blind man, but fuck does it hurt, as through a sea of corrosive dogmatism, you realise that it wasn't light you were being led to, certainly not a land of milk and honey, no, it was a room full of men telling another room full of men how to make the other room richer...at your expense. Monkeys, jacking off other monkeys.

So, what the fuck am I talking about (if you haven't clocked on yet)???

The fact that we have been led to believe that low-fat was better, that margarine should be poured onto toast in the mornings, that eggs were bad (thanks Kellogs for that, you twats), that we should move away from what we were Paleolithically designed to consume, and head towards what some lab rat with a Lamborgini created. 

That's it. I just wanted to sow that seed. More will follow, but I suggest you start reading around. No, it's not cheating. I'll get over it, in spite of my wonderfully deluded idea of self-importance.

Anyway, I leave you with this from J.F.K:

"Too often we hold fast to the clichés of our forebears. We subject all facts to a prefabricated set of interpretations. We enjoy the comfort of opinion without the discomfort of thought."

The Beach

Some of you have already floated away from our sunny shores, filled your bags with half-price flip flops, disposable cameras and feigned at faux culture-vultering, trying to understand the exotic from a 'pre-drink' filled apartment block. The rest, well, you might still be gearing up for the August get away. Those destined to traipse around plaza del who-gives-a-fuck-anymore, can walk away unscathed and oblivious, but the rest, you lucky few, who will be running the sandy gauntlet should pay attention, because you can walk down a beach, seemingly constipated by self-doubt and crushed by the crowd or you can trot over the sand like a show-pony with a mane of gold, hooves of steel, feeling like Ryan Gosling in a nunnery and with a look in your eye that say, "Prince George is in fact my child".

"But it's too late, man, it's all too god damn late - I've missed the show, the bus left dude, I'm off tomorrow!!!" Relax, Frankie, this is about last minute touch-ups; it's about the tricks, the illusions. It's all one forgazi, 'one big dream that you had inside a locked room'. A dream of being anybody, an accretion of sense and emotional experience designed to assure us that we are each SOMEBODY. So stop worrying so much. Anyway...

How?

Option #1. Become a show-pony with the aforementioned attributes.

Option #2. Do the below:

1. Don't eat salt: too much salt + liquid = water retention = not a good look. "Put the nuts down darling."

2. Don't eat foods that make you bloat: processed foods, cruciferous vegetables (look it up), sugar substitutes, too many carbs, legumes and carbonated drinks, to name a few.

Foods that relieve bloating: cooked vegetables, melon, citrus fruits, pineapple, low sodium foods water, yoghurt and tea.

3. Stomach vacuums: inhale deeply then exhale and pull your belly button as close to your spine as possible, squeeze your pelvic floor muscles. Keep breathing.

4. Stand in front of a mirror, naked: know you good parts and the bad - show off the former and hide the latter - get used to what you see. I hold the Daily Mail solely responsible for infecting the minds of the fairer sex with poisonous aesthetic expectations and deluded ideas of perfecting the subjective. "You're a strong, confident women, in charge of your destiny. You are the master of your fate, the captain of your soul". 

5. Eat bananas - filled with potassium, they'll prevent cramps (due to the decreased sodium levels) and bloating. Happy days.

6. Pump it Up: Do a light 5 minute circuit prior to hitting the beige blanket, to increase, temporarily, muscle toning. I suggest 3 sets, no rest, of as many reps as possible of: press ups, reverse crunches, plyometric jumps and bicep curls (I know, I know...I hate myself as well) with a suitcase or exercise band. Also, listen to this song whilst you do it: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=c_v_AfMWhJU

7. Red, Red wine: I don't want to endorse this too much, so you'll have to do your own research on this fruity number. But it does work. Oh no, I've said too much. Must..stop...typing..sjchdjsjd#*€|.$

8. Stand up straight: posture is everything. It doesn't matter if you're a size six with a six-pack, if you posture is bad, you will lose MAJOR points. Confidence is contagious.

C'est fini. Now go and reenact THAT Top Gun beach scene. You know which one. Yes you do. Exactly. No, you stop it. Fine, I'll hang up.

Besos.