Monday, February 1, 2010

No mea culpa here nor with my trainer

After the experience with the ring card girls, I decided to have a chat with my trainer regarding MY results as opposed to those tarts wagging their assets in the boxing ring last Friday night. His answer, "Sean, genetics plays a big role in body shape."

I'm thinking so... "You want to play the Genetics card?" So this is my mother's fault? My poor mother. Well Thank God I have someone to blame, finally. Then it occurs to me - my mother is a size negative 8 and my father at 6'2" and 200 lbs. doesn't compute to my -- we'll just say Rubenesque physique.

So after deep thought, which really only took a couple of seconds because my brain truly isn't that big.

Anyway, I figured it out. That's it, OMG - I'm adopted. At 48-years of age my trainer in his beating-around-the- bush way has outed my parents. My real parents are actually fat, white Aborigines who sit out on the hunts for the Dingos and the search for fresh water in the lowlands of Australia. They just sit back and eat scrupa (made that word up - I'm so not doing research for this blog).

I'm just glad to have the mystery solved. And the best news is - my genetics take the blame, not me - nor my American parents, who by the way - have a remarkable resemblance to me.