… but I’m 5’2”, brunette and 50.
The above statement was made by my wife in response to my desire to have the body of a 20-year-old male model, complete with a six pack and buns of steel. My name is Kenny, I’m 60, gray and delusional. Okay, you can laugh now. Body self-image is such a strange thing.
Is it ego that keeps me striving for the impossible dream? Possibly. Sometimes I long to chug chocolate milkshakes while sitting in my La-Z-Boy attired in an undersized Polo shirt, plaid Bermuda shorts, black dress socks and wingtips; moobs to the wind. Is that too much to ask?
Being a rock musician for almost 50 years (yeah, I saw Jimi, Janus and Morrison; don’t be jealous), my greatest fear is stepping onto the stage and having people assume I play in a blues band. Now, I have nothing against the blues, a few of my earliest influences were B.B. King and Peter Green, who IMHO were two of the greatest guitarists who ever lived, but as one ages it appears as though there’s an unwritten rule that states one must hang up the rock and roll power chords for a twelve bar blues progression in the key of “A”. Yawn.
My Vows:
I vow to never even consider looking at a “Manx” Website. I work out like a madman in a vain attempt to fight my arch nemesis, GRAVITY. Moobs are not an option, nor do they come as standard equipment.
I vow to never shop at Costco, or go on stage wearing “old blues band guy attire,” which includes “Dad” jeans and a Mexican Wedding Shirt. If you are unfamiliar with this shirt, and you play in a blues band, look in your closet. You probably have several. If you still want to dress hip and cool without looking silly, this can be done. There is no written rule that you have to be gay to dress well. Don’t let your wife buy your clothes in bulk. Khaki is not a pop of color.
I vow to limit my French fries intake. Well, some things are nearly beyond the realm of human possibility, but that purple, slim-fit, V-neck is slammin’. I could totally rock that.
K.G.
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