I have to start this one off by saying “Damn you Dumb Mom! Damn you for undermining my credibility when I complain about my body by taking fabulous photos of me that I shared with the whole world the other day!” For everyone who looked at those pics, please believe me when iIsay that my butt doesn’t look as good in real life as if does in the one picture. It really really doesn’t. Not to mention how ugly the number on the scale is and the sad state of my pants. The pants are always the biggest issue with me because I can’t afford new pants. So, when my pants get too tight, it’s time to make a change.
There’s another reason I need to get more exercise: my lower back hurts. Yeah. That’s right. I’m old and my back hurts from sitting in front of a desk all day long.
I used to walk a lot. Before we made our Suburban Exodus, we lived about a mile from C’s daycare and I would pick him up at night and walk home with him in the stroller. That and our many weekend walks to parks kept me on my feet enough to prevent my muscles from seizing up into the kind of hunched pose usually associated with people who spend all their off-time in chat rooms, leaving troll-like comments for everyone. But now that I’ve cut the umber of steps I take by about half, well, you can call me Troll Girl and no one would wonder why.
The good news is I don’t have to do anything as distasteful as leave the air conditioning to get off my butt since there’s a free my in the basement of my office building. It’s a windowless cell with a few cardio machines, a few weight machines, clean locker rooms, and very few other people. In other words, a perfect place to spend 30 minutes at lunch time walking on a treadmill in the name of smaller thighs and a spine that extends fully. I have those fancy butt shoes that are supposed to get my legs and buns extra-toned so I should be good to go, right? Wrong. That’s not enough motivation for my lazy ass. I haven’t been in a gym since 2007 and I was still paying dues until…I might still be paying dues. I should look into that.
Enter True Blood. Yes. Southern Gothic Vampire Porn. The secret exercise motivation of moms everywhere. I’ve started downloading True Blood to my phone to watch on the treadmill and Woo! All the sex that was missing from Twlight? Showed up right here! These are some frisky vamps! And humans too! I keep hearing about someone named Eric who’s going to knock my socks off but I haven’t gotten there yet. For now, I’m just ogling Jason Stackhouse (who’s played but an actor whose name I’ve not bothered to learn because I just think of him as The Torso of The Gods.) while I walk in place and try not to laugh too hard at the bad accents. I mean really, HBO. Get a dialect coach. There are so many variations of a Southern accent on this show that it sounds like an audition for a remake of Hehaw. But accents aside, this show is amazing motivation for working out because I want to watch it so. damn. bad. Though going back to work after watching vampires have kinky sex with human who wind up dead is kind of a hard mental adjustment.
The benefits of my treadmill time are easy to quantify: my back felt better after the very first session. That alone makes it worth it. I haven’t lost a single pound yet but now that Ive eliminated Trader Joe’s Sublime Ice Cream Sandwiches from my diet on the grounds that they’re 440 calories EACH, I suspect the weight will start to go down. But really? My only goal is to keep doing it. If I set milestones for myself, I’ll obsess about them and get worked up about how quickly I advance. I’m a little nuts that way. So instead of actual fitness goals, I’m just trying t keep my eye on the process and also on finding out who this Eric character is.
There is a drawback to working out mid-day though. It’s underwear. See, here’s the deal. I shower before bed. Because putting on the underwear I’ve been wearing all day after a shower is unappealing, I wear a clean pair to bed. But I can’t wear that pair to work the next day, so I put on another clean pair in the morning. On days I work out. I put on yet another clean pair of undies after I shower at the gym. That’s three pairs of underwear in 24 hours. My laundry routine is under assault by my underwear.
Hopefully that will be a the smallest price I pay in pursuit of a nicer butt.