I eat McDonald’s a minimum of once a day. I’ve gone the distance a couple of times (3x). I don’t exercise and I drink regularly. I’m fortunate to have one hell of a fast metabolism. Maybe one day guilt will overcome me. Every once in a while I get on a “health kick” but it never lasts. Never more than a week really. I’m one of many 20 something men in America who share my mentality. “Aren’t you worried about dying?” “Your body is a temple.”
I do worry about dying, and I know my body is a temple. But I am a damn good accountant. Follow me here fellas. I went to school for it. I know the numbers game. I didn’t go to school to be a doctor. I had to look up what a “tendon” was after a friend made reference to tendons in his hand hurting (Nate). Why didn’t I ask at the time? Gamesmanship, that’s why. I can’t let him one up me with knowledge like that. He does that enough already; no harm in me just playing along. I knew it wouldn’t help his golf game, and I was happy about that. I knew it made him feel uncomfortable, and I felt for him in that regard.
A doctor knows what he’s doing. I’m typing on a laptop now. We can talk to anyone in the world, video chat, real time, because of this device. Where do you think technology will be in 10, 20, 50 years? I’m going to have a head transplant. I don’t think I will ever die (from natural causes). Heck, I don’t see myself getting hurt too bad from un-natural causes either. Somehow, I always escape the good ol’ boy shenanigans with minimal injuries.
I believe in the American way. That’s not caring what I eat, having fun at the expense of my “long-term health”, and relying on the hard work of my fellow American’s to help me along the way.
Kevin
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