Exercise... Can we say "Ewww"?

I walk a mile most mornings. Yup, three laps around our pond, making certain to take all of the ins and outs of the pond's shape. I probably COULD do more laps and I probably SHOULD, but... How do I put this? It bores the shit out of me!

In my art studio, I have one of those Total Gyms. Great piece of machinery. A person can exercise almost any part of the body. I look at it several times a day and think "why?"

Face it folks. Exercising by oneself is boring as hell. I sit on the Total Gym sometimes, responsibly doing my leg presses and think of all of the things that I could be doing that are far more interesting... Like watching concrete set or cleaning the toilet.

I danced on and off, ballet, jazz, lyrical, from the time I was four until I blew my knees when I was thirty-five. When I was in my 20's, I was a personal trainer at a gym. I KNOW what I should be doing.

I'm one of those people who really needs to have a work-out partner. It's even better if I don't LIKE that partner... "Ha! That bitch did 25 reps. Watch this people, I'm gonna do FIFTY!". Yea, that's me! I'm bad!

So, it seems that actually GOING to the gym would be the solution. Nope. Do you realize just how many excuses I can invent for simply not getting into my car? And then I think about the fact that I have to PAY someone for the information that resides in my tiny little brain each time I encounter THEIR personal trainers. Ugh!

Let me tell ya, honey... There is nothing "Golden" about this era of my life. The muscles are atrophying at an alarming rate and I don't believe my body HAS a metabolism any more. Yup, that baby's gone! I eat fairly healthy foods (fried foods and greasy snacks make me ill), mostly of the vegetable persuasion and I limit my chocoholic tendencies to 2 or 3 individually wrapped pieces per day. Hell... sin of sins... I've even begun limiting my Margaritas. What's wrong with this picture?

Do you ever feel like sending threatening letters to Madonna and Cher?... "Look, you sluts, gain weight, turn grey, and start sagging like the rest of the female population or I will bomb your aesthetician's practice." Those magazine pics damn well better be airbrushed or I give up!

So I walk my petty mile each morning and glare at my exercise videos and Total Gym in accusation (shouldn't they work simply because I OWN them?), then sit my ass down to read my twelfth book of the week or post something new in here... ANYthing to avoid that dreaded word, "exercise".

Anyway, here's a little humor (from one of my favorite e-mails) to take you through your day:

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A WOMAN'S WEEK AT THE GYM

Dear Diary,

For my birthday this year, my daughter (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am still in great shape since being a high school football cheerleader 43 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try. I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Belinda, who identified herself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear. My daughter seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.

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MONDAY:

Started my day at 6:00 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Belinda waiting for me. She is something of a Greek goddess - with blond hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!! Belinda gave me a tour and showed me the machines. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which she conducted her aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring! Belinda was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time she was around. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week-!!

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TUESDAY:

I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Belinda made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Belinda's rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT-!! It's a whole new life for me.

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WEDNESDAY:

The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot. Belinda was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. Her voice is a little too perky for that early in the morning and when she scolds, she gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying. My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Belinda put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Belinda told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other shit too.

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THURSDAY:

Belinda was waiting for me with her vampire-like teeth exposed as her thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late - it took me that long to tie my shoes. Belinda took me to work out with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. She sent another skinny bitch to find me. Then, as punishment, she put me on the rowing machine -- which I sank.

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FRIDAY:

I hate that bitch Belinda more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic little cheerleader. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it. Belinda wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the damn barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich. The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?

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SATURDAY:

Belinda left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing her voice made me want to smash the machine with my planner; however, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.

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SUNDAY:

I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my daughter (the little shit) will choose a gift for me that is fun -- like a root canal or a hysterectomy. I still say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have sprinkled the floor with diamonds!!!