This daily exercise thing is kicking my butt. But, that's the goal, right?
I just twisted in my chair to see Lee, when he ran into my room. On the wall, behind my desk, is a floor-length mirror. One I've had since my dad brought it home from the furniture store he managed when I was a little girl. As I caught my reflection, my eyes immediately traveled south. I always notice my caboose. Probably because it's the biggest object in the mirror. Warning: Objects in the mirror just appear to be bigger than they really are. If only.
I'm not one for exercise. Well, not deliberate exercise, at least. I like exercise that sneaks up on me, like when I'm riding a horse (you do have to mount and dismount, after all), or painting a wall, or paddle-boarding. But, let's face it. I haven't been on the back of a horse since I left Nebraska 5 years ago, my bedrooms walls are just as pink as they were when we bought the house a year ago, and the only time I've gone paddle boarding was in Maui last February, in spite of the fact that the Pacific Ocean reaches California too.
I'm freaking lazy. I hate to sweat. I hate it that when I exercise, I have to choose between talking and breathing. But do you know what I hate the absolute most? The feeling of my fat jiggling when I move. It's exactly why I need to be exercising, I know. But, still.
Somewhere after my last birthday, I started developing some seriously disturbing pains. Aches and pains, to be precise, and although a woman my age is no spring chicken, I'm not an old woman yet, and nowhere near needing to cut holes in tennis balls, so that I can put them on my walker wheels. Besides, I don't even have any tennis balls. I hate tennis.
So, I got back into yoga. I've been doing it for a while now, and recently added a nice walk every morning to my routine as well. My dog Luke loves it. He thinks he is going to die after our second lap around the neighborhood, but he still gets excited every time I come home from taking Lee to school. It's walk time.
A friend of mine shared on her blog that Dr. Oz recommends exercising right away in the morning, before we eat breakfast. Something about butter melting on a hot pan, or something like that. I don't know, I just thought I'd give it a try. Mostly, because my habit of getting into my exercise clothes in the morning, getting going with my day, showering, and getting dressed, without ever exercising was a habit I needed to break. So it's potty, brush the teeth, and then Downward-Facing Dog. And then, walk the dog later.
This is so a new me. In my entire thirties, I completely let myself go. Extreme control and constant belittling from my now ex-husband had taken me to such a low, that I sought comfort in food, swallowing with every calorie-filled bite, the broken pieces of my self-esteem. I'm 5'3", and I weighed 105 pounds when I married him. I let myself go to 165 pounds, and I wore a size 14.
I joined a class that deals with the whys of our poor eating habits, and then teaches how to view food, and eat it so that it helps our body, mind, and spirit. That was the first of many big steps, and I lost 40 pounds. This was in 2007. I've put about 10 of those pounds back on, so I'm thinking that through exercise, I'd like to see myself get back to a more comfortable size, and rid myself of those premature aches and pains.
I'd have to say, though, that this new way of living has been working well for me. The thing I hate the most about exercising, though, is that slowly but surely, I'm seeing results. Dang it. That means I can't stop in exasperation, because it isn't working. But what I like the most about it, is the high I get afterward, that seems to follow me throughout the day. It's like caffeine, without the shakes, and I'm digging it.
Hugo called me this afternoon, and I found out that he hadn't eaten lunch yet, but that he thought he might go downstairs to see if he could get a danish to hold him over. I freaked out all over him, and told him that he needed to get a sandwich, or something more healthy. I even made him promise.
I suppose the down side on this transformation of mine is that I'm pretty sure I've gone over into the Dark Side, and have become a Health Nazi. It's OK. I know I'll settle down with time. But as I have commissioned myself as the Manager of Nutrition Services in my house, I take my job very seriously. Just don't look for me to become the Manager of P.E. anytime soon. I do good to get myself on the Stupid Elliptical. I won't be strong-arming anyone else to do it too. But I do find that I talk to the kids a lot about how much better I feel after I exercise...
However, this I know about myself, or at least about my booty. No matter how many laps I walk, or bicycle, or no matter how many yoga postures I master, when I look in the mirror, my eyes will still travel down south, and the object in the mirror will still be big. But, rather than let that make me lose my focus and cause me to give up, I choose to thank GOD for making Jennifer Lopez, Beyonce, and Kim Kardashian just as juicy as He did.
And my now in vogue posterior and I will feel better, in spite of it.
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