Desk Job Redux

Why can't typing make you thin?

Doesn't it make sense that if you spend hours with your keester pressing into an office chair, all that pressure on the fat under there should help metabolize it right off your body?

Rocking anxiously back and forth while waiting for an email to go out or come in? That must have some cardiovascular value.

I wish that third cup of coffee was the metabolic magic trick that could flush the fat from my system, pull my insulin response back into line.

It would be swell if deadlines challenged our deltoids, biceps, and triceps enough to define our arms appropriately for sleeveless blouses.

I suggest that the food available in the average office vending machine could be made to raise fiber and protein consumption, and lower fat and sugar consumption, and come in at around 40 calories per serving.

Could meetings lower our blood pressure? The more meetings, the lower it would go? Is that too much to ask?

The copy machine would of course provide a safe, natural-looking tan. Not too dark, you know. Just a nice glow.

Lunches and breaks? Say, while we're at it, why not have lunches. And breaks?

Doing budgets? That's your fartlek training for the week.

Doing invoices? That's your strength training.

Filing is your low-impact aerobics.

Research is the reason I have this wicked six-pack of an abdomin.

Performance reviews are Swedish massages, mud baths, and full-body Reiki all rolled into one.

Memos from management lift and tuck.

When we grew our own food, our jobs were good for us. Why can't they be good for us now?

Here's wishing you a great weekend,


JuJu

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