a fight to the death

I know. I’ve too much appetite. Appetite for food. Appetite for the good life. And this’ll do me in someday, and maybe sooner than i think it will, if i don’t do anything about it. Yes, i’m doing the gym stuff. And the yoga stuff. But i haven’t been the same gentle that did the breakthrough crash-diet-and-shrink-several-pants-sizes-down thingie several years ago, to the astonishment of practically anyone and everyone i know. I’ve grown old. And my resolve’s kinda been washed out by the tides to this shrivelled little thing that squeaks its last ounce of hurrah with every sit-up, warrior and boat poses i do on the mat these days. It doesn’t seem to help that there’s practically good food everywhere i look. I know i shouldn’t be saying this but i do blame the genes for blessing me with this over-the-top voraciousness that’s gonna put an army of enlisted men in a boodle fight to shame. i’ve got to do something about this. I don’t want to take the onslaught of fat just sitting down, despairing at how things been so unfair. I wanna fight. I can fight. I know i still can. Somehow.