Mr. Chex Mix

As I marched grimly into the locker room this morning I was greeted by the sight of a gentleman sitting on the bench in front of the lockers with all of his gym related detritus strewn about him neatly folded and looking untouched.

He was happily stuffing his mitt into a bag of Chex Mix and shoveling it into his open maw at a sedate pace. Bits of unchewed rye chips and flecks of pretzel salt were glued to his lips and the contented half smile on his face was glorious.
I have no doubt in my mind that he had absolutely zero intention of doing any exercise at all. This was his $40 a month getaway from home and the apparent bran and vegetable matter diet he’d been restricted to by a concerned spouse that left him, let’s say…unfulfilled.

As I began pulling off my shoes and getting ready to expose myself to the dangers of the pool and it’s mischievous inhabitants yet again, I heard…

“Hey, you want some of this?”


His voice was calm, relaxed and without even a hint of stress or angst and it suddenly dawned on me…

maybe there’s something to this new Chex Mix diet.

I calmly turned around, steeled my resolve to make myself into a better and more healthy man, husband and father and…

Began the meticulous task of making sure the crumbs and salt are all gone from my face before I get home…


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