If there’s ever an apocalypse, I’m going down with the first bunch.
I will not be in the group foraging for squirrel meat and setting up camp wherever they find flat ground.
First of all, because I wouldn’t survive that scenario. I’ve barely made it through any camping trip I’ve ever gone on. Not once, but twice, on summer camp overnights, I woke up with a slug in my hair. What are the odds? Apparently, high.
Slugs like my scalp. And I’m terrified of campfires.
How is it that more people don’t die from them? They seem so dangerous. Sparks are always shooting out of them. I freak when someone puts one out by stomping on it.
Also, pooping in the woods? With no toilet paper left? No thank you.
So I’m not made for that stuff.
But I wouldn’t even make it that far, because I have no upper body strength.
I’ve been obsessively watching The Walking Dead, even though it’s not that good, because I can’t exist in a state where there’s no show with a chokehold on my life. I need something that keeps me up way past a normal bedtime, so I can hate myself for lack of self-control. I’ve watched through just about everything else good, and Walking Dead was all I had left. Which, I guess, is my own mini-apocalypse. Living on TV scraps.
Watching a show like The Walking Dead forces you to consider what you’d do if the world went to shit.
Not went to shit in the sense of, “Did you read about the skyscraper going up where the bowling alley used to be? The world’s going to shit.” But in the sense of, it’s all ending and only people with upper body strength are going to make it.
When the world really goes to shit, you have to do a lot of self- hoisting.
Jumping over fences. Pulling yourself back up when you’re dangling from a deep ravine. Pulling your friend, or even some redneck bigot you barely tolerate but can’t just let die, up with you.
(As a side note, why do they call an advantage a “leg up”? Anyone can get a leg up. It’s pulling up the torso that marks greatness.)
So maybe the zombie scenario is far-fetched.
But think about the tsunami in Thailand where only Nate Berkus and that model Petra something-or-other pulled through, because they were able to cling to trees.
That takes biceps, triceps, and lats. I have none of those.
I can do a girl pushup, but that’s it. Chin-up? Don’t make me laugh.
Exercise-wise, I came of age during the aerobics era. “Grapevine left! And grapevine right! And pony, and pony, and kick like a Rockette!” I’m all about cardio, even if they say you burn more when you have muscle mass. I just can’t be bothered.
The result is that I can’t even open our fridge with my left hand.
My right can do the job, because it still has muscle memory from when I scooped ice cream at Steve’s for a summer. To be fair, our fridge has a super-strong seal. But I’m definitely not breaking through doors if I need to call for help just to access the mayonnaise.
Steven and I have a routine where he grips my upper arm and says “make a muscle.” And I say, “I’m making one.” And he says, “No, really, make one.” And I say “I am.”
Pray for me that the zombies don’t come.
Now you.
Would you survive an apocalypse?
Do you think about it?
TELL ME IN THE COMMENTS
I’m right there with you.
It’s not upper arm strength I’m worried about though. My contact prescription is like -7.0 in both eyes, which translates to nearly blind, which translates to “What kind of loser still hasn’t had LASIK?” Also, my hearing is approximately 75% as good as your average bear’s, and if I stop taking my arsenal of allergy medicines, my face will swell shut. That’s all the important survival senses out of commission.
Forget the apocalypse, I wouldn’t have survived 1915.
Shit. Thanks for completely banishing all thoughts that I have had (up until now) that I actually would survive an apocalypse.
I have NO upper body strength. And you’re right. You totally need that for survival. Maybe I could acquire it…
Unlike you, I wouldn’t save the bigot though. I figure, if the apocalypse is worthy of any true apocalypse, it’ll probably challenge my belief in anything higher than us. Which means that I don’t necessarily need to keep all my morals and ethics in check. Which allows for the possibility of the bigots dying their due death.
I’ve thought about the zombie thing. And if that happens, I am so Waterworld and not Mad Max. I’m stocking a boat (more like a ship) and getting the hell out of dodge. I think I’ll have a better chance, once I learn how to sail.
As far as the tsunami thing, I’ve thought about that too. And if Nate and Petra can survive it, then I can too. (both of them lost their boyfriends though, that’s sad)
So…here’s to NOT having to test our theories in 2015.
Slugs in the hair??? I’d have to shave my head. I’m with you on the camping thing. If there’s no place for me to plug in my makeup mirror and blow dryer I’m out.
As for upper body strength, I’d be happy to show you the ropes if you ever get out to SoCal. I’d even develop a zombie apocolypse survival workout for you. (Now that I think of it, that’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had… 🙂
I like to think I’d make it for at least a little while, because I think I’m strong mentally and am always figuring out an alternative to a problem. Could I eat a slug or an insect (a big one) because I know they are a great source of protein? Maybe roasted. Could I drink my own urine because I know it’s sterile and can save your life? (But then, without water going in, you have a finite amount of time to produce that sterile liquid. Would it be worth it?) I know that if you do poop in the woods, you need to a) identify a large leaf that won’t give you a rash, for wiping and b) cover up said poop with dirt, so you don’t attract predators. We are, after all, not the top of the food chain as we like to imagine.
I’ve lived on my own for a long time in a tough climate, and I did figure out how to fix a toilet that created a waterfall through my kitchen ceiling – without help. So my confidence is fairly high.
Until we get to the pull-ups and upper body strength. Pretty pathetic. Also, got a core like unbaked pizza dough (4 kids in 8 years). And I hate to run.
So, my days would be numbered.
Oh man. I was just having the “if the world goes to shit we are screwed” convo with Jed this week. Namely because my kids and their crying would surely be heard by every zombie or other death trap scenario within a 50 mile radius.
I also once watch the move “The Road” and the stress of it all would surely put me over the edge…not to mention I haven’t worked out in a while.
I’m no Linda Hamilton over here.
xoxo
Linda Hamilton. Now there’s a badass. Having sex with your husband from the future and carrying his baby. It’s almost as impressive as being able to stay married to James Cameron for two years.
That chick would be good to have around.
Linda Hamilton’s guns (and I’m not talking sidearms here) made me always jealous. In fact, when I was 20 I worked out everyday and focused on pushups and pullups so much that all of my football playing friends were impressed by my pull-up bar display (50 chin-ups at a time, yo!). And yet, still, I did not have Hamilton arms.
Ah genetics.
FIFTY chin-ups!?
I’m impressed. I don’t think I’ve ever done one.