Flexing My Muscle

I have been working out in the gym about two hours a day for a cameo in an upcoming movie shoot. Let me just say that middle age is hard to reverse with only four weeks notice that you got the part.

In a seemingly unrelated matter, I took my eleven-year-old son to a sporting goods store the other day to buy camping supplies for Boy Scouts. Just inside the store, my attention got diverted. In front of the clothing apparel department, the rippling muscles of a life-size mannequin almost burst out of a body wrap tee shirt. I stopped my son at the base of the mannequin for idol conversation.

“Jim, I want you to be honest and don’t worry about hurting my feelings.” Wearing an identical cling shirt as the mannequin, I puffed out my chest like the NBC peacock then asked, “Can you tell any difference between my physique and the mannequin?”

He stared up at the mannequin then turned to me for only a glance. “What are you kidding?” he blurted out with sarcasm. “Big difference!”

As we walked on, I took my lumps in stride. After picking out a mosquito tent, I lost sight of Jim. A few minutes later, I saw him walking in the front of the store. He had his back to me as he looked for me down the checkout aisles. I started to walk towards him when I noticed that my trek repositioned me in front of that muscular mannequin. Jim had only one more checkout lane to inspect before he would have to turn around and look for me elsewhere. I decided to test out not only my physique but my acting ability. I flexed my muscles and struck a stone-faced Adonis pose next to the mannequin. In a Herculean effort to blend in with my background, I sucked in my gut and did not move a muscle.

Not to be fooled, however, Jimmy walked right up to me.

“Really now.” remarked Jimmy dead-pan. “Joe, what do you think you’re doing?”

Jim is no dummy and neither am I.