My suburb has been invaded by exercise demons. They are walking, cycling, jogging and most have a look on their face that looks a bit like their internal organs are doing a fire dance with extra explosives. Which probably isn’t too far from the truth when you start to think about it.
Good for them for getting out there and exercising. But what is it with these middle aged men exercising with their shirt off? Now, don’t get me wrong. I’ve got nothing against men exercising with their shirt off, as long as it’s pretty obvious once they take their shirt off that they have been working out for quite some time. In fact bring it on! But the trouble is, not too many (at last count nil) of these guys live in my suburb.
If I’m driving to the shops in a post holiday haze, I do not want to be subjected to a beetroot hued block of chest, wobbly beer gut and gelatinous man boobs that are wobbling like they are a cranberry jelly that hasn’t quite set.
And the thing is you can’t avoid these topless terrorists. They do not skulk silently at the back of the walking pack, or jog unnoticed under the trees. No! They actually want to be noticed! They think they look pretty damn good. They are out there jogging on the road’s edge – the pedestrian path is not visible enough for them. They are on their bike opposite me at the traffic lights, sweating like they’ve just emerged from a 3 day Thai sauna.
So, topless old fogies, here’s the drill: shirt on, get back to exercising in your gardening gear. After all, what’s wrong with the shorts and t-shirt from Lowes anyway? It’s functional, practical and suitable for all-day wear. You can move effortlessly from the bike to Bunnings to the couch with a cold beer and hot chips in this outfit. Leave the shirts off to Brad Pitt lookalikes. And tell them to come to my suburb.