I worry about my butt. It never really occurred to me before just how much time I spend sitting on it. The life of a Content Monkey doesn't involve much running around. Basically I am in front of the screen all day long, cuttin' and a-pastin'. I walk the dog and go to the gym, but the majority of my day is truly spent just sittin'.
Sometimes I feel like my butt will become Germany, circa 1938. Hitler's at the helm and he's making plans for expansion. It would start out innocently enough, a few troops in the Rhineland, the jeans getting a bit snug. But next thing he's annexing Austria, invading Poland, seams are bursting and chairs are breaking. Suddenly there's the map of Europe with swastikas peppered all over the place and I have nothing to wear but a mumu.
It's just the nature of so many jobs these days, we are chained to the desk. We are slaves to the cubicle. I do try and counteract this by flinging myself around at the gym. I also eat healthily, but what choice does my poor body have but to send it straight to my butt if I spend most of my day perched in a chair?
Let's take yesterday for example. I got up off my butt and out of bed. I took the hound for a brief walk, which is a good, non-sitting activity. Then I sat down on my butt to eat breakfast. Then I got in the car and let four spinning wheels trundle me along to work, like some indulgent Roman emperor. Then I took the lift up to my cubicle where I sat on my arse from 9 – 5, with a few wanders to the bathroom, a trip outside for fresh air, but like I said. It's mostly sittin'.
Then last night we all met International Supastar Blogger Miss Kristen (who incidentally turned out to be a lovely, lovely person with a charming accent and fiancee, and by no means all a serial killer, unlike most people you meet off the Internet). During this meeting I spent even more time sitting on my arse. About two hours worth over dinner. Then mercifully, we did have a little bit of a wander through Civic, looking for a place to have coffee. In other words, another place to park our arses.
Then after we bid Miss Kristen and her Fiancee farewell, I returned to my car in which I once again sat down to drive.
I got home at around 11 o'clock, when again I sat down on my arse to check my email and watch a bit of The Ice Dream.
As I toddled off to bed later, I thought to myself, gee my butt feels kinda numb. It must have been exhausted from all that sitting around.
Then I got into bed to lay down for about 8 hours and do absolutely nothing, all in the name of slumber.
It was then it occurred to me just how bloody long I'd spent sitting around. I started doing some frantic calculations in my head:
I go to the gym about 4-5 hours per week. Plus 2-3 hours of Harry walking. Plus incidental activity, like to the pub, or to the fridge for some icecream. Maybe 2 hours a week. So that's 10 hours physical stuff per week.
Then you have 8 hours a day at work, x 5 days = 40 hours.
Then 8 hours of sleep per night, plus about 10 or so hours on the lazy weekends = 60 hours of slumber.
Everyone knows Shauny's suck at maths, but it seems for every hour of grueling grunty labour, I have 10 hours of inactivity.
Is it any wonder I am paranoid about arse expansion? How can 10 hours of lung-bursting physical activity compete with 100 hours of sloth? I fear I have years of this ahead of me, as I can't see my career moving away from the desk-bound realm any time soon.
That is why I have dreamed up a way to combine endless toil at the computer screen with rigorous physical activity: