On Being and Matter.

I got a haircut today. This is a basic act of human maintenance, and I enjoyed it at points but also got a weird feeling similar to that of eating chicken and fishes at the same time.

I thought about being a piece of matter, how my hair is all of these dead cells that the body sort of excretes as the kind woman combed my hair, which had grown long FAST.

I just read that emotional distress, particularly that caused by verbal abuse–to both the abuser and “victim”–causes a slowdown in hair growth. My hair used to take AGES to grow.  I suppose this means I’m happy now.

Tonight, I had a free personal training session in which the beautiful woman trainer had me put my hands against the wall like a cop does, measured my regions, measured my body fat by drawing pen marks on my arms, belly, and thighs and pinching me repeatedly with a plastic implement.  She asked me about my eating habits while I hurled about on an exercise bike.  I did squat thrusts and bendy jumps while a man stood and watched me, he just stood and stared. 

She said I did a good job, how do I feel?  I told her alright,  if awkward and humilated. 

It seems bizarre to me that this is a normal thing to do, that people pay a lot of money for such services. 

These are the sorts of thoughts I think.  Hopefully this will make a reader or two feel better about themselves.


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