Man walks down the street, he says
“Why am I soft in the middle now?
“Why am I soft in the middle now?
Why am I soft in the middle now?
…
Mr Beerbelly, Beerbelly
Get these mutts away from me
You know I don’t find this stuff amusing anymore
-You Can Call Me Al
(By Paul Simon)
Maybe you know this song. I have always loved it! Must be
over 30 years old! (There I go again putting my age “out there”!) I have always
loved the expression, “soft in the belly” and I think is a double entendre.
Figuratively, it means that you are no longer as hard as you
used to be. (I think). Well, I choose to believe that’s what it means. Some of
us project to be “toughians”! People admire our strength and even emulate us.
They draw strength from our steely exteriors and believe us when we say things
like, “I won’t have it!” Or, “I can never accept such nonsense!” Or, “If it was
me eh, I will…!” Na shakara. LOL!
Literal meaning is when you get soft around the tummy.
Develop a beer gut. Lose your waistline. Take your pick. It creeps up on us.
One minute you have an hour glass figure, then soon you move fro a six-pack to
a one-pack. I am convinced that if there was a graduating progression from six
to five, then four, three, two… before one, most of us would be lot more cautious and conscious. But you just
wake up one day and your league has changed from “umu m’Mary” to “ndi christian
mother”!
Well, I am no stranger to both meanings. And it played out
last week as I was jogging down the street. Believe it or not, I do run about
30 – 45 minutes every other day! (It may not show, but I do anyway) So I am
doing my thing, huffing and puffing, concentrating on my breathing, (I find
that breathing helps me stay focused on the task). Anyway, so there’s this
elderly Indian guy who I have a very cordial “nod-a-greeting-and-pass”
relationship with. We meet on the street some mornings.
This day I nodded from afar so I could really concentrate on achieving my distance target and he beckons me to stop. I struggle… I really don’t want to break my flow. Then he starts to do the “thousand apologies” head movement. (Remember the Indian guy in Mind Your Language, the TV series in the 80s?) “Madam”, my “nodder” says, “You must hold it firm when you run, or it will drop. He is motioning to his stomach as he says this. I am dead! The whole street is glancing from his tummy to mine in choreographed symphony. My one-pack has just been spot-lighted. I don die!
I was figuratively soft in the middle too because, unlike me I took it. I didn’t say anything tough. I had no sharp retorts. I wasn’t even angry. I simple went home and dug up my tummy control and have used it everyday since then. Nothing has changed. I am not yet a 2-pack, going on six! But I have started a new journey to eradicate the literal “soft in the belly-ness”.
This journey doesn’t end!
This day I nodded from afar so I could really concentrate on achieving my distance target and he beckons me to stop. I struggle… I really don’t want to break my flow. Then he starts to do the “thousand apologies” head movement. (Remember the Indian guy in Mind Your Language, the TV series in the 80s?) “Madam”, my “nodder” says, “You must hold it firm when you run, or it will drop. He is motioning to his stomach as he says this. I am dead! The whole street is glancing from his tummy to mine in choreographed symphony. My one-pack has just been spot-lighted. I don die!
I was figuratively soft in the middle too because, unlike me I took it. I didn’t say anything tough. I had no sharp retorts. I wasn’t even angry. I simple went home and dug up my tummy control and have used it everyday since then. Nothing has changed. I am not yet a 2-pack, going on six! But I have started a new journey to eradicate the literal “soft in the belly-ness”.
This journey doesn’t end!
