My American Life
Sometimes I feel like Madonna. The march of time has not been kind. Watching the hairline recede further along has been downright depressing. With each passing day, more gray whiskers pop up like prairie dogs in my beard. And those crinkly old man eyes, courtesy of crow's feet, make me wince.
Growing old ranks right up there with one of the worst things that can happen to a gay man. We younger gays have always been told by elder gays that we really don't peak until we reach our 40's. Will my 40's be as fabulous as they promised?
I sure hope so. Playing tennis five days a week has kept me lean and was beneficial to my health. But who wants a lean Daddy? Daddies are supposed to be thick in every department. How else can we properly render discipline to unruly younger gays?
With the opening of a gym just a block away from work, I had the chance to drastically change up my routine. I even hired a personal trainer to ramp up my workouts. It has been a wonderful decision.
In seven short weeks, my body has become pretty solid. My quads are getting back to being bulky. My biceps are getting closer to being "respectable". I am even sprouting up new back muscles. That's an area that I tended to neglect in the past.
Getting back to being muscular should partially counter the negative consequences of the aging process. I hope! Gulp. In the meantime, I should start expecting to pay for attention next time while in DC.
I tried to be a boy
I tried to be a girl
I tried to be a mess
I tried to be the best
I guess I did it wrong
That's why I wrote this song.
I got a rooster and a tennis coach,
A lawn man and a trainer
Six hens and a Torrent.
Do you think I'm satisfied?
I'm just living out the American dream
And I just realized that nothing is what it seems