Balancing On An Exercise Ball
I don’t like the way I look right now. Half of me could give up on my looks, let my beard grow, and remain about fifteen to twenty-five pounds overweight until I die. The other half of me wants to restrict my diet again, shave my head, and see 190 on my scale that continually reminds me of my body fat percentage. I don’t know which half of me will win.
I read this article last week about six exercises you should do as you get older. One was simply getting up out of your chair and then sitting back down; modified squats for elders like me. The others were equally as easy, but not out of reach or dumb. It’s weird to feel like a spry guy in some ways and an old hag in others, within seconds of each other. I live in a Sliding Doors world sometimes, not knowing which part of me made it onto the train and which didn’t. This door is fine, but in the other door, can I still do jumping jacks?
I wouldn’t fail the marshmallow experiment now, but I would probably drool if they gave me more than ten minutes of waiting on the clock. I am so headstrong that I could wait days, but I would be dreaming of cramming three marshmallows in my mouth at the same time. There’s not really a number of marshmallows that is too many. I don’t allow myself to eat dessert much anymore, so sometimes I fantasize about cake more than sex. Sometimes meaning almost all the time. Over the hill is a weird place to drive your Jeep in first gear.
When I was in my first semester as a freshman in college, my mom was dying of cancer, and I had mono. I slept seventeen hours a day and could barely wake myself up to watch Stealing Home and eat before falling back asleep. I started college by almost failing all of my classes and sitting on the baseline of the basketball court so that the other guys on the team thought I was some sort of team assistant. In my first healthy practice, I drained seven threes in a row in the first five minutes. Then I kept flunking most of my classes and floundered through two depressing years. No one even knew she was sick.
In law school, I perfected the skill of doing just enough to get by without failing and also having an incredible social life. I played basketball and went to the gym every day. I ate sushi three times a week. I went out drinking with my friends four times a week. I wasn’t an extrovert, but this was likely the most extroverted time in my life. Or, better to say, the least introverted. That version of me seems like a fever dream wearing a leather bomber jacket at a flight school bar near Navy training school. Ray-Ban Wayfarers.
I’m still in touch with or friends with a lot of my ex-girlfriends. Within three seconds of each other, I can wonder what it would be like to still be together and also know every reason why we are not. Two things can be true at the same time. They often are. Sometimes they are both false. Sometimes you are just lonely and don’t want to go through the whole process of getting to know another human being. The things I keep inside of me are for me.
© Jonathan Greene, September 8, 2026
