When Watching TV Is An Extreme Sport

I’ve said it a hundred times, I’ll say it a zillion more. It doesn’t really make it any less unacceptable. I’m a couch potato. I read for exercise and daydream for sport. I’m even too lazy sometimes to watch television. How on God’s green earth can I be too lazy for one of the laziest pastimes ever? It’s just, you know — gah — so tiring to do.

How is TV viewing exhausting? If you really think about it, being a TV buff is a serious commitment because if you’re going to be a fan, you might as well be a good fan. You have to be obsessed and not be half-pantsed about following your shows. You have to see something as soon as it goes on air. Forget Tivo and recording. Okay, this probably only makes sense if you parked yourself outside the bookshop hours before it opened on the release of the seventh Harry Potter book. If you got what I meant right away, feel free to holler, “Twinsies!” Or not. My skin crawls just from imagining myself doing it.

How else does it drain your energy to watch TV? You know, before you even got started, you already had to hunt down the remote control. It’s always under the couch, in the fridge, or some other place you can’t even. I can’t even blame the kids for it because the remote has always been in the perpetual state of “missing”. I was in school one time and my mother paged me (this was in the time before texting) to ask if I knew where the living room TV remote was. Sure enough it was in my bag. Although, of course, young kids do make the hunt even more challenging.

Having gotten the stretching (bending every which way to look under furniture) and cardio (going around the house, walking up and down stairs) out of the way, now you have to push yourself to overachieve. You flip channels like your life freakin’ depend on it because you want to be efficient and not waste time on commercials or because you want to multitask and watch multiple shows at the same time.

You see what I mean? Watching TV is a bleeping extreme sport.

So, as much of a slug as I am, I don’t want the kids to take after me. But, you know, they model their parents’ behavior. If I want them to be active (and I do), I have to make some changes in my own lifestyle. My daughter is interested in taking up a few sports, so maybe I could take lessons with her. She’s interested in gymnastics, karate, tennis, surfing, and ice skating. Gawd, my old bones creaked just from typing those up. But whatever. I’m determined to help my kids be sporty and I’ll bear the hives to show I really did. Have I already mentioned that I seem to be allergic to my own sweat? I’m actually allergic to straining myself. I even start sneezing my head off when I have to force myself to be pleasant to someone I dislike.

What a basket case. I need a good wallop on the backside of my head.

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