Models…

They call themselves.

Ha!

That’s fucking funny.

Real models are the runway kind,

And they are moving art,

And they are

Stunning

Striking

Sublime beauty

From Every. Single. Angle.

Insta-models are moving fast food,

Overly-salted nutritionally-void instant cuppa noodles ready in 2 minutes,

And shat out in less.

I just hope they have a personality to use as a life preserver

When people stop caring about their vapid views, useless “fitness” videos, and their perfectly-filtered asses.

Too bad they are all run-of-the-mill-cosmetically-altered boredom incarnate,

Only good for a midnight stroke sesh,

And that’s about all.

Instagram models…

At least they’re good for a laugh.

I’ll get my 5-day abs that way, I guess.

~~~

❤👽

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*** Are we maybe a little bit jelly, Angel Eyes? I mean they are these nubile twenty-somethings… and you… well… you just turned 40… and you have stretch marks and sagging skin. ***

*** Yes. 40. Stretched and sagging from living and growing life. But as for my agéd ass… let’s just say that I believe in building one over paying for one. And I do my squats every damn day. ***

*** Written in the middle of a workout… between sets of hammer curls and shoulder presses. 👊 My exercise regimen is NOT courtesy of Instagram. ***