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About Everything Wiki » Author's Column » How not to be a fat lazy pig − 3: bad advisers and the ability to think

How not to be a fat lazy pig − 3: bad advisers and the ability to think

03 May 2023, 06:14, parser
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Yuri Balabanov and his story of turning from a 34-year-old fat lazy pig into a man using the ghetto workout philosophy just blew up a Life Hacker. After the first publication, Yuri shared his guide to action for all seasons, which also found a lot of responses among readers. Today we present to you the third part of the narrative, in which Yuri told about what caused his "grunting", and how he pulled himself out of a seemingly hopeless situation.

How not to be a fat lazy pig − 3

It's probably time to tell about how I became her, this lazy pig. Perhaps this story motivates someone to continue fighting for their health and athletic appearance.

I was quite an ordinary young Soviet man, in whose life sports occupied a considerable place. That is, to be fair, I will say that I was a very athletic young man — and the more tragic my subsequent transformation looks. Skiing in the Carpathians, I got a meniscus injury. Immediately upon arrival in Moscow, the question of surgery arose, but smart people advised me not to do the operation: if I leave the leg alone, after a while the meniscus will heal, and everything will be fine. I was glad of this advice, because I had just entered the institute, and I did not want to go to the hospital right away — they could have expelled me.

I have been lying in bed diligently all winter holidays, and my leg has really healed. For a while, however, I had to walk with a wand, but smart people said that it was very elegant, and that with a wand I reminded them of Pushkin. Several months have passed. I threw the wand away, although smart people advised me to keep it — as a piquant accessory. But one day at home I unsuccessfully sat down, folding a folding bed, the menisci cracked and the knee jammed again. The thought immediately arose that if I had an operation, all these torments would end, but smart people advised me to leave everything as it is, because the surgeon's scalpel could make me lame for life. On the advice of smart people, I made a list of rules — what not to do with a sick meniscus, and learned this list by heart.

I got to the operating table in an unconscious state, because I could not dodge the car that abruptly left the corner. If I had done the operation in time, now everything would be fine with the knee, and I would just jump aside; but when the car appeared in front of my nose, instead of the normal reaction to "bounce", one of the rules, drawn up by smart people, arose in my head, stating that it is impossible to jump with the meniscus.

A month later I left the hospital — this time on crutches, having received the surgeon's advice: to move hard every day despite the pain in my leg and the knee swollen like an orange. But smart people just laughed: "If you want a cancerous tumor to develop in an injured place, then, of course, you need to move more!"

Frightened by the terrible prognosis, I resolutely threw away my crutches, lay down in bed and tried not to move my sore leg at all. When the leg healed and I got out of bed, it turned out that it did not bend. But smart people advised me to apply cotton wool soaked in alcohol to my knee, which was supposed to put the joint in order.

I asked smart people if it would not be better to start moving gradually? They replied that if I want to remain disabled for life, then, of course, it's better.

— It seems that you are trying to demotivate me," I suggested uncertainly.

— Demotivate? smart people snorted. — And what is it? There is no such word in the Russian language!

Several years have passed. The list of things that could not be done became irrelevant, because now it was impossible to do anything at all. In addition to everything, my operated leg suddenly became terribly thin, and its entire mass seemed to have moved to my stomach. But smart people advised me to drink a decoction of fucus bubblegum, which reduces appetite. My appetite decreased, but I myself began to swell like a balloon. That is, the inverse proportion: the smaller the appetite, the bigger the ball. But smart people said that I am now thirty, and at this age it is perfectly normal to expand in breadth — this is how a young man turns into a man. Moreover, this extension is very important, because a man should show with his whole appearance that he is well-off, calm and well-fed.

I turned into a man by the time I was thirty-five: my stomach bulged out so that I had to buy XXL clothes, my legs became so different that I had to resort to the services of a cane again, my cheeks hung limply, almost touching my shoulders, my pupils disappeared into the fat folds of my face. In the "conclusion of misadventures", one day the meniscus cracked and broke on my healthy knee, unable to withstand the weight of the body.

Smart people wanted to say something again, but I chased them away, promising myself to find an answer to the question in the near future: what to do to stop being the fat lazy pig that I turned into.

On the same day, I heard amazing words that motivated me for the rest of my life. They were uttered by Rina the Green through the mouth of her immortal tortoise Tortilla.

— Young friend, always be young, don't rush to grow up, be cheerful, bold, noisy! It is necessary to fight — so fight! Never know peace, cry and laugh out of place! — said Tortilla, and added with sadness in her voice: — I myself was like that three hundred years ago.

— And I would have remained it to this day if I hadn't listened to demotivators," I answer her now.

How not to be a fat lazy pig − 3

A perfect example for reflection and introspection. Are there any such would-be advisers among your entourage? Have you ever wondered what consequences such blind following of other people's advice threatens for you? Maybe it's time to think for yourself and start doing something that will help you?

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29 May 2023, 13:57    0    0
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