Exercising My Right to Chews

I ate fried chicken for lunch yesterday. 

Since I’m Southern to the (chicken) bone, that isn’t all that unusual. What struck me as odd, though, is that the chicken joint I went to – Gus’s World Famous Fried Chicken in Birmingham – is directly under an exercise place. So while I was there chowing down on some hot and spicy yardbird with some light bread on the side, above me began this stomping that was somewhat in unison. Then I started hearing excited but muffled yelling over the stomping. Then the stomping got louder. Then the excited but muffled yelling got even more excited. 

Why I could barely hear myself chew!

And I thought, Could there be two more incongruous ways to spend a lunch hour? I know which team I’m on! Pass the napkins!

I’ve spent a lot of years worrying over my thighs, which leads to worry over my A-double-slinky-letters, which leads to worry over my belly, and so on. And I do try to eat a reasonably healthy diet. But the gene pool works against me, age is creeping up on me, and, frankly, even though #audreywalks365, Audrey doesn’t really like to jump around in a gym while someone hollers at her through a little headset mic – especially when there’s fried chicken right downstairs. 

And I just can’t spend my life obsessing over a bulge here and a dimple there. That’s not healthy for me. I’ve learned that I’ve got to be as happy as I can with what the good Lord gave me and do my best to keep my temple from becoming a house of horrors. 

Which is exactly what will happen if you eat our traditional Southern-fried, sugar-coated diet every day – you’ll be worm food faster than you can say, “Scald that bird!” But the Episcopal Church taught me “all things in moderation.” So I do exercise just not in a gym. I walk every single day and I also ride my bike when it’s not 140 degrees outside. Nothing wrong with trying to be healthy and fit at all. But I’ll also have the two-piece dark meat combo, please. 

And if you like the stomping and muffled yelling, you do you! 

But you gotta admit, whoever thought of putting a chicken joint right beneath a fitness club is probably somewhere having a good old laugh while they wipe their greasy fingers off on their Lululemons. 

A few more quick things:

• The story I did for Mobile Bay Magazine about watercolorist Wyatt Waters and his new book, The Watercolor Road, is now online. 
• Are you looking for some Halloween inspo? Here’s a story I did about Southern monsters for It’s a Southern Thing. 
• And I watched the funeral this week for Queen Elizabeth II with great interest and more than a little bit of sadness. I know there are many nuanced issues surrounding the monarch about colonialism (too many to go into here), but I was drawn in by the nation’s great display of mourning as well as the pageantry of the funeral. No one does pageantry like the Brits. And as I watched it all – the cathedrals, the choirs, the horses, the bands, the uniforms, the cars, the Corgis – it still comes down to one thing: a family who’s lost their beloved Grannie. Only this family’s dirty laundry is always on display and they have to grieve in a very, very public way. And that’s probably the saddest part. 
• Speaking of very public displays of grief, this spider almost stole the show!
• I did also wonder if the Queen and my own Granny were the last two people to have the “shampoo and set” hairstyle. Since 1940s “pin-up girl” hair has had a resurgence of popularity in the last several years, I’m thinking it’s only a matter of time before getting one’s hair “set” comes roaring back too. What y’all think?