New research proves exercise can damage your health!

So usually, people try to get you TO exercise, citing the various mood enhancing and cardiovascular health benefits, among other so called positive impacts. I personally find exercise overrated, unhealthy, and destructive. I have done some intensive personal research and must pass the findings along to my dearest hundreds of friends via an intimate facebook note.

It breaks my heart to see people ignorantly jogging with smiles upon their faces, billboards for new fitness clubs popping up like mushrooms after summer rain, and yoga studios with parking lots filled beyond capacity. It's truly no better than being surrounded by gambling parlors, brothels, and McDonalds. My heart weeps for these uninformed fitness seeking beings. Much like the innocent ignorance of children in third world countries who are not aware of the love and teachings of Jesus Christ; these souls need education and salvation. I feel it would be of disservice to not share my truth; to let people continue their obliteration of self and the paving of a surefire path to hell each day as they simply try to create their lives the best way they know how. It is my duty, my calling, my challenge; I must spread the message, my experience, my personal story...

EXERCISE IS FUCKING EVIL!!!

For one thing, exercise increases the libido an average of 15-45 percent. While this may have some of you already planning to purchase a gift certificate for a gym membership for your significant other for the next major holiday (or not wanting to wait, just to celebrate the advent of Wednesday. You picture yourself saying "Happy Humpday, Honey" and hoping the best "hump days" are yet to come.) This promise of a libido increase is not so much a draw for me. In fact, I am sure my exes who are reading this (and believe me, there are more than a few who are...THANKS FACEBOOK) are kissing the ground they walk on that I was far more lazy and unmotivated and did not exercise while in a relationship with them. My libido needs no help. It needs many things: therapy, discussion of limits, self control, and perhaps a complete and total intervention (which may be true for the rest of me as well). The increase of my libido, would no doubt send me into TLA (toxic lesbian antics). And by toxic lesbian antics, I do not mean fostering litters of kittens or going in debt to buy an SUV. Despite popular belief, some of us dykes do actually fuck (which may be another lesson my exes could stand to learn). So, clearly exercise would no doubt plague me with multiple UTIs, Chlamydia, unwanted pregnancy, or even worse, a goddamn girlfriend.

The dangers do not stop there and are not limited to the cardio heavy routines. Even engaging in yoga, I discovered (while meant to unite and balance the mind, body, and spirit) can have its negative impact. I enrolled in a beginner's yoga class, with the assumption it would be a slow, open and welcoming atmosphere. What I discovered was that the majority of the class were not beginners, but have been in the beginner's class before and stuck with it "because they liked it." BULLSHIT. My perception is that these individuals could not handle a level two class, or are still fostering childhood wounds of inadequacy and thrive on being the star performer or teacher's pet. While I do have some jealousy regarding the quickness with which my classmates can wrap their legs behind their heads...all I'm saying is that it isn't fucking impressive if you win the 5th grade spelling bee when you're 16. Stop breathing through your butthole, pick up your mat, and move on to the next level.

In addition to being drowned in a sea of experienced yogis in what was portrayed as a beginner's course, I found a certain vulnerability in moaning and spreading my legs in public (well, at least while sober). And much like my libido, my negative self image does not need to be fostered. It nourishes itself like a fat puppy sucking on its mama's swollen teat. Seriously, do I need twelve foot high mirrors and special lighting when I'm donning lycra?? Hell to the NO (again, at least not while I'm sober)!!

And while all of the above is difficult, probably the greatest danger of yoga to those of us who may be less than graceful, is the potential for injury. And, let the record show, "less than graceful" probably grossly understates my ineptitude and lack of dexterity. As a child, my mother used to say that the only way to keep me from hurting myself would be to put me in a cage (no worries...she never did. She stuck with the emotional battery that parents tend to prefer).

And in adulthood, I am no better. Upon asking a friend to describe me in five words, one of the words chosen was clumsy. Out of all the possible personality traits and behaviors...out of all of my potential gifts to this big wide world...one of the first things that comes to mind for someone to choose to share about me is that I'm clumsy. (Damn...is it a wonder my self -image is warped?)

But alas, embracing my current reality of clutziness and understanding that I continue to manifest and give off an aura of awkward, I must accept the danger yoga brings. Any practice that asks you to spread your legs four feet and chant (at least while vertical) is not my cup of tea and most surely will eventually result in injury. Besides, I prefer to injure myself in more organic ways, like tripping over a tree root on an evening hike, doing a full split in a slippery bathroom, falling face first in the street on a jaunt to the store at midnight to pick up cigarettes for a friend in need; you know, the natural stuff. I don't need poses to challenge my abilities. I have those opportunities for challenge in my daily life. The best analogy may be: Yoga is to Alice as an electrical socket is to a two year old holding a fork.

But perhaps I'm giving exercise a bad deal. There surely must be a sunshiny yin to my whiny yang. For as much hell as alcohol and candy get, people have discovered and routinely cite the health benefits of wine and chocolate. And if the cancer fighting benefits of red wine ring true, bring on the carcinogens, I am safe as a basket full of kittens!!! And as far as the claims of heart health, my ticker is going to be quite the valuable organ at my demise (my liver, however, may be another story). Additionally, red wine has been a powerful positive sleep aid in my life. So what if it was on a patio....in public....while a musician was playing...and I had to be carried out... one needs to look at the positive.

And it has been shown that a good night's sleep is a greater contributor to a long term healthy weight, than diet or exercise alone. Clearly, inhaling wine and getting rest trumps oxygen and the dangers of an elevated heart rate. And this kiddies, may just be the moral of the story...lay back, drink up, grab your chocolate bars and a pint of Ben and Jerry's (for calcium of course- to help foster strong bones). Stay calm, don't exert yourself or stretch too much while reaching for the remote control. Breathe, relax....and find peace, love and happiness, just as you are: sedentary.  

I must also mention that realize I also believe exercise fuels compulsion...and I need to fuel my compulsive behavior as much as designer dogs need a rescue group (and don't even try to convince me the poor homeless labradoodles and Shih-p...oos need my help... pah-leeze). Despite my conviction and preaching, today, I was back at the gym like an ex-gay at a rest area.

And I realized another negative aspect of gym-going: I'm getting TMI. I was taken on the too much info expressway and I did not buy a ticket, nor even slow down at the damn station. Some things, such as my podiatrist's overage of back hair and excessive ass-sweat, I just don't need to know about.