Today was one of those rare occasions where I left the office at 5pm. This felt very strange – driving home while the sun is still out confused me. But this evening gave me an opportunity to top up on a few things at the shops.
The most convenient place for me to stop and avoid the disaster that is Johannesburg traffic is a ‘Lifestyle Centre’ about half way between the office and home. It’s not an unpleasant place and free covered parking is never a bad thing (although Molly is due for her Friday bath – especially after a weekend in the Free State – and she looked out of place amongst the ‘Lifestyle’ cars). And I had to wonder why it’s called a ‘Lifestyle Centre’.
The only places of business that are there are the following:
- A gym
- Pick ‘n Pay
Is that really all you need to have ‘Lifestyle’? I admit it’s very convenient, but where is the sushi? Where are the over priced coffee shops and stale chocolate croissants?
But I had one mission – a bottle of wine to ease my shattered nerves a little, some fruit and cereal to keep my nerves healthy.
I’m going to divert for a while to plug a product. It’s called Future Life and it’s cereal. I came across it one afternoon at work when I was starving and the only thing I could find was a sample of Future Life that came with the Modern Athlete magazine. I mixed it with some water and was convinced it would be terrible. It wasn’t. It was in fact very tasty. And better than that, within ten minutes I had a sudden burst of energy which was sustained for a full four hours. I skipped supper and felt fantastic the next day. Try it – really. You won’t be sorry.
Anyway, the Pick n Pay at the ‘Lifestyle Centre’ stocks Future Life. This Pick n Pay is also a hang out for gym-boys in their wife-beater shirts.
I would like to inform all hard gyming men out there that they are wasting their time. Bulging muscles that are bigger than my thighs are NOT sexy. Neither are your steroid complexions or that stupid shuffle-walk you do because your legs are so ripped they get in the way of your giblets.
Ages ago I briefly dated a rugby player of this build. It wasn’t great. His cuddle levels were in the negative digits and his arm weighed so much I couldn’t tolerate it around my shoulders for longer than a few seconds.
There is only one man in the world that can pull off muscles like this and that is my friend Clarence Payne. He is a solid mass of man, minus the steroid complexion and shuffle walk. But then again, Clarence has an amazing mind and a gentleness about him that makes him unique. You don’t immediately notice the hours he puts in at the gym, but when you do you have to admire it because he wears it so well. And Clarence wears his muscles with grace and I’m sure he won’t crush his girlfriend beneath the weight of his Men’s Health photo-shoot worthy arms.
Clarence, please, host some seminars and teach these repulsive boys how to do it right!
Besides them there were women in their 40s, without wedding rings, sweating profusely while buying their groceries. I sneaked a look into a couple of baskets: cat food, pesto and lettuce. Hmm, yum! I felt very out of place for not being damp with perspiration and I am sure everyone was staring at me because I wasn’t wearing a tracksuit.
And that’s it. That’s all there is to a ‘Lifestyle Centre’. A gym, a store and a deserted drycleaners. I guess I don’t have ‘Lifestyle’ since I don’t gym (the thought of sweating on things that strangers have sweated on freaks me out), I don’t have a cat (and I don’t eat cat food in case I misinterpreted the contents of the baskets) and I don’t take steroids (I leave that to the 19 year olds).
I think I’m okay with that.