Day 48: Becoming the Hobo-Gladiator

Somedays I just don't feel like getting off the couch. Somedays I really can't get off the couch. The one good thing about being unemployed is you do get a little bit of time to yourself. You get to obsess about your weight and your clothes and your skin and your hair and everything else that separates you from a hobo. But you essentially feel like a hobo. Gone are the days of Lacome's $90 creme de la creme. You become that Dove girl you always said you would never be. Basically, you are a hobo in good shoes. Until the shoes aren't so good anymore. Than you really do start to become the hobo.

Hoboism is not all that bad, though. Are hobos worrying about what kind of car they're driving? Are they freaking out because Visa called and wanted this month's payment in full? How many hobos do you see eating comfort food and gaining 100lbs? No, they have to work for their meals, they're digging/negotiating/stabbing for that big dinner once a week. They're not sitting in front of the big screen eating pork rinds (remember those? soooooo good...). It's a full time physical job, being a hobo. No long hours of numbing data entry for them.

So I'm pretty convinced that hobos have some pretty good abs under all those decades of fashion accummulation. I'm thinking it's probably a good thing to lose everything, have nothing, and then maybe you can be a little more responsible when you finally do crawl back to the top. Kind of makes you appreciate the cashmere a little more. My slow decent into hoboism isn't really all that bad. I'm thinking it to be a little like fat camp myself. Years of school and working 3 jobs, one begins to appreciate the times when a few pounds are shed without complete starvation and waking up at 4am to get a work-out or bike ride in. See, when you've not got a job to go to, you really don't have an excuse to leave the gym early or skip a day. You've also got time to fight the ice and snow to get to the liquor store on your bike (it really is fun riding a bike while your a little into the bottle already. You see things along the way, so many things. It's just like a big adventure...).You see, when there is no boss nailing you for being three minutes late or asking you why your hair looks like a wet rats nest or why your not wearing any socks (you always forget something when going to the gym before work, I particularly enjoyed the days when I forgot my underwear. You get that rush, thinking while your being yelled at, "I've got no underwear on". Takes the edge off a little, and the words aren't so cutting.), the workout takes on new meaning. You start training to be a gladiator. Because you can.

So today, I can't get off the couch. I physically can't get off my couch. It makes me wonder how the gladiators made it through life. But I guess they didn't. ahaha. Poor bastards, I guess life could be worse. Will not being able to touch my face for the next 2 days help me find a job? How about my inability to use the brake pedal in my car? But hey, I'm sure I'll look good in that new dress I stole from the recycle while I pick up empty bottles. The things we do to try to be skinny...yeay, unemployment.