After two days in row at the gym, I did myself a mischief. Yesterday, I lay in bed most of the day, having trouble breathing and dwelling on weighty matters (sorry) such as the mortality of my morbidly obese and sagging carcass. This morning, I’m almost recovered and going back to the gym in moment. But, with Game of Thrones coming back in a couple of weeks, it’s got me think of loveable, fat loser Samwell Tarly. Consigned to this fantasy world’s foreign legion by his dad, Lord Randyll Tarly (seriously GRRM- “Randy”???), where he’s supposed to guard that black wall thingy; you know, the one that’s supposed to be protecting everyone from zombies. In this unenviable role he does tend to evince some sympathy… oh, you know what? Why even bother lying? To be honest I didn’t give him a second thought until this morning when I prodded my 1.5 trimester-sized bulge and dwelt on my on hideous, corpulent physique in the mirror. Damn you, looking-glass of Mephistopheles. Anyway, as engaging as I vaguely remember his character to be, I wonder how much of his flabulosity is simply cunning wardrobe prosthetics. For all I know the actor who plays fat-boy is, in reality, serpent svelte. Probably rich too, breezes into swank nightclubs as a VIP, plays darts with Sean Bean, regularly knocks ’em back with Peter Dinklage and is dating ridiculously good-looking Emilia Clarke (Daenerys Targaryen- Drogo’s wife/widow). You see if he’s a lardo in real life I could probably stand it. It gives me hope. Not about being healthy, but about not being a such a bloated loser.
Buggerit, off to the gym. GOT back April 1st. See you there.