Wednesday, November 22, 2006

THE CROUCHING TIGER

Hair loss is a big concern for men, there's no point denying it. You can pick up any newspaper and find an advert for hair replacement of one type or another.

And they always have that before and after photo in those ads. The "before" is always the same old story - the guy is bowing down, displaying his lack of hair for the camera. It's thinning, it's patchy, maybe it's almost all gone. Oh yeah, this guy is the first to tell you that it has started raining when you're out .

It's the "after" picture that really gets to me, though. I mean, the "before" - getting old, going bald - that's natural, I expect to see that on a guy. You may not be happy with your lot in life, Before Guy, but it's pretty much inevitable, chum.

But the "after"? Wow, those people sure get hair. Nobody ever seems to grow "some" hair - it’s always 1970s footballer hair, glam rock hair. It's not just hair, it's HAIR!

One minute they're Lex Luthor, next they're son of the Wolfman. Blofeld - Lassie. Cueball - the vampire Lestat. Hidden dragon - crouching tiger.

What is going on at these clinics?

"The treatment seems to be working, Mr Jones. Was there something specific you'd like?"

"Pile it on, baby. I've been going bald since I was 15. I'll tell you when!"

Thursday, November 09, 2006

THE ARMCHAIR FIT

Help an old klown out here, someone - what's the Latin for "in front of the television"? Is it "-athon" or is it "-acizer"?

I think you can add those suffixes to anything, can't you?

Back in the old days, when people wanted to exercise to get fit they'd go out and choose a specially designed piece of equipment - say, a set of weights or a rowing machine - and use said equipment to get healthier. "Weights" is a good name for them because, well, they're heavy, I mean, they weigh a lot. They are weights. Rowing machine - a machine to row on. Exercise bike - a bike to exercise with. These were clear, medically approved definitions. It all made sense.

These days you don't even need to get out of your chair to order exercise paraphernalia. You turn on the TV, there's an hour long commercial featuring a svelte young woman or a buff muscleman doing star jumps with the help of the latest "revolution in exercise miracles". And you can order it then and there and someone delivers it to your door. Just pick up the phone, your job is done.

And the names of these things - the aerobathon, the fitacizer. They're Dr Suess words that sound a little like they're to do with fitness...

"Spend some money, you old miser."
"I'm busy on my walkacizer."

I don't care how many dress sizes Shelley in Baton Rouge dropped - the only person getting fit from these things is the guy who carried it up your path for delivery.