My Physique

There comes a time when 

you know you’ve attained your

perceived pinnacle of 

athletic achievement.

For me, that moment is at hand, 

   and I must seize it.

I will become    a professional bowler.

 

Now I suppose I could have 

taken up bowling

a year or so ago, but no.

I was    different then.

I was toned.

   I was ripped.

       I was svelte.

I had just completed a season

touring with the     Chippendales.

 

I’m sure many of you are asking, “Hey!

Why the career change?”

Well let me tell you:

it’s hard work being a Chippendale.

Loads of physical and 

   mental stress. 

Listen: You wouldn’t know.

You have not done this.

 

For one, it’s    a sex trade.

Really.    No getting ‘round it.

You can talk up the art side of it 

   all you want but 

those women could care less

whether you’ve just executed the 

most perfect    triple    cabriole.

Deep down, 

what they really want is

perpetual    pelvic    thrust.

 

And then, of course all those

late nights fading to dawn as you 

sit there counting and stacking

thousand upon thousand of

sweat and oil soaked dollar bills.

It is an ugly    taxing    business.

 

So I quit.

Just let myself go.

Traded my six-pack abs in for

   a six-pack belly.

Hung up my G-string. 

Gave all that baby oil to my best buddy 

[insert your name here]. 

Parked my butter-butt in a barcalounger 

   for one whole year with 

nothin’ but a TV remote in one hand

   and a can of PBR in the other.

 

And yes, right about now

I feel I am at my physical prime to

dive into the grueling arena 

of professional bowling.

 

But let me be honest here.

I’ve got a bit of a hidden agenda.

You see, unbeknownst to many,

professional bowling has its sordid side.

Indeed, professional bowling

is overrun with       groupies.

 

Yup. 

It’s all about sex, and 

that my friends explains 

why I   look the way 

I do    today.

 

©06 Jack Hubbell