Tag Archives: college try

Abrade

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abrade: (v.) scrape or wear away by friction or erosion.

It sounds brilliant to me. At least I think it deserves a good old college try.

Rather than being on a diet, I’m going to be on an abrade.

All these years, I’ve tried to internalize weight loss by healthy eating, low calories, no fat, few carbs … well, the list goes on and on.

I never thought about approaching it from the angle of “abrading.” Hear me out on this–at first it may sound a little weird.

What if I started out by bathing in pure lemon juice, encouraging skin shriveling? I follow by taking large jars of vanishing cream and smearing it all over the fat forts on my body. Then, purchasing a very mild or fine-grained sandpaper, I begin to just gently rub on my love handles. I should not do it to the point of abrasion or blood-letting, but maybe it’s possible, if I abrade enough, that I can wear down the onslaught of the attack of the blubber monster.

Maybe you have other ideas, too. Maybe binding my flesh for a few minutes every day with some sort of tape or wrap, to teach my excess flesh container to gel into a more concise form, would be beneficial.

Because I cannot tell you that dieting, as a whole, has been an extraordinarily successful proposal for me, or actually for millions of others. Some of us can not afford a personal trainer or will not be selected for the cast of The Biggest Loser. We also don’t particularly like to throw up from over-exertion in a gym as a means of dispelling unused calories.

Perhaps this “abrade” process could, shall we say, clean “the outside of the cup” instead of messing around with all of the inside difficulty.

At this point, I am not prepared to support the theory, nor am I ready to write the book, which would certainly become a best-seller on the New York Times List. I do have a working title, though: Abrade, Abrade: You’ve Got It Made.

But I am ahead of myself.

I guess the first step is working up the energy to squeeze 7,322 lemons … to draw my bath.

Abed

by J. R. Practixdictionary with letter A

Abed:  adv. in bed

Every once in a while I give it the good ole’ college try. Usually it happens when I’ve had a particularly busy day. I ease myself under the covers, making a promise to the surrounding furniture in the room that I have no intention of emerging from this sleep chamber for several days, if not weeks.

It doesn’t make any difference. I always wake up the next morning around six o’clock and have a growing sense of worthlessness from hugging my pillow instead of pursuing the day. It’s not that I am especially energetic or have a massive work ethic. It’s just that I’ve never been an excellent “lie-abed.”

Candidly, it was possibly one of my greatest difficulties in being a parent to adolescents. It was always beyond my comprehension how folks in their teens, who possessed such immense nervous energy just hours before, twitching, leaping about or shaking their leg like a flea-ridden dog as they watched television, could become comatose and unable revive the next morning– passing over the glory of breakfast and early morning television, not to mention the rising of the sun, to finally trip down the stairs at the noon hour, barely able to audibly inquire what might be available to eat.

I don’t often share this with people because there’s a certain self-righteousness about getting up early in the morning that I find distasteful. I don’t do it because I want to go out and talk with the birds like St. Francis of Assisi. Nor is there seed to plant in the back forty with my Amish brothers and sisters.

It’s just me.

There are only two things to do in bed, and once you complete one and the other’s not available, well … it makes me fidgety.

So, to all people who ARE lie-abeds, I tell you that I am not judgmental whatsoever. Actually, I come just short of admiration for your ability to doze back off instead of staring at the ceiling, wondering about the asbestos content in the tiles.

No, you will not often find me abed. But you’ll probably outlive me, too.

Isn’t it funny that we humans are so intent on getting our sack time that we refer to death as “the eternal sleep?”