**Disclaimer: This is not a serious overview of alchemy, or meat for that matter. If you’re a serious sort, I urge you to find other, more weighty info on Wikipedia (which will kindly lead you to scholarly sources) or look up Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. You won’t find anything intellectual here. Okay, I feel better now.
From what I understand, alchemy is the mystical process of turning common metals into gold. There are a whole bunch of philosophical, scientific and psychological ideas regarding this process, but for me, it’s like this:
Running and the other types of exercise I’ve been doing are causing some sort of alchemical process to take place in my body. My calves, which I had hoped beyond all reason would get smaller, are changing into chicken drumsticks. My badonkadonk is like shawarma, originally stacked, but now portions are being shaved off. And my thighs? They are meat-filled burritos, flexing their power, when before, they were flabby and quietly respectful. They kind of have an attitude now.
[I’m sorry if I ruined anyone’s appetite. And, uh, I hope there aren’t any cannibals reading this. Just to be clear, I’m speaking figuratively. Please don’t picture me in your head right now.]
I always knew that I had to make friends with my body as part of the whole process of accepting myself. I used to take the easy route, wearing baggy overalls that covered – well, covered everything in an extremely generous way. But one day I saw a photo of myself in said overalls, and I cringed. I was shapeless. I might as well have worn a cape three sizes too big. The poodle perm didn’t help, either.
Now? No more perm. No more hiding in my clothes. Now I just need mental alchemy to help me see gold in the common form that is me.
Where do you need alchemy?
…i need alchemy to transform my bank account…
…post a picture of yourself; i’m especially curious about the attitude of your thighs… 🙂
…btw, you were always golden…
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I’ll post a photo of myself when James Bedford wakes up from his state of cryogenic preservation.
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…how in the world do you know about james bedford???…
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come on, i’m not that knowledgable! i wanted to know who was the first person to put himself in deep freeze, so i asked google. i wonder if google is single…
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…you don’t want to date google; google has too many mistresses (and misters)…
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Ew. I don’t want a well-used partner. Oh well. Hey, a male mistress is called a mister? How come it doesn’t sound as bad as the feminine version?
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…therer isn’t actually a proper word for the masculine of mistress; however, the urban dictionary lists the word “manstress” and i kinda like the sound of it…
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that’s brilliant!
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