Tennies and Ten, September 2013 Man is so made that he can only find relaxation from one kind of labor by taking up another.
~ Anatole France
I’m forever setting goals and resolutions. January 1st, March 16th (my birthday), every month, every season, Rosh Hashanah (Jewish New Year’s). Like everyone, I want to lose weight, get in shape. It’s never off my To Do List.
This is exhausting.
At one point, it wasn’t much of a problem. Flat stomach, small waist, same weight as my driver’s license.
Now it’s pudgy tummy, thick waist, same weight as my driver’s license.
Yes, I lie. Sue me. When the cop says "you were 10 miles over the speed limit and there’s no way you weigh 120 pounds," I’ll worry about it.
But still, it would be nice to at least be in good shape, even if
zaftig-hourglass is my current jean size.
So for September I’ve decided to exercise every single day. That’s 30 days. I actually started yesterday. Weights and walking both. I’ve been exercising with some decent amount of sweating for 15 years. You read that right. A mix of weights, walking, kickboxing and stationary bike. Now I weigh what I did during my two pregnancies, dare I say it. I got the weight off each time schlepping after my girls, but now I got the pounds but no kid to show for it.
My cardio is pretty damn good for my age. But with metabolism a thing of the past, I obviously can’t eat that much anymore. No more corned beef sandwiches, both halves, with cole slaw and pickle, like when I was in college. I’ve got to get serious about the calories too. You can’t see the six pack with a slab of fat over it.
So, I’m going on the record, becoming accountable. Of course, I may not have any readers so I’m going public into the void, revealing nothing. Unless I have stalker friends and then you can write me something in the comments about how you’ll come to my house for a weigh-in on
September 30th.
But don’t come pounding on the door at 6am when I jump on the scale. I’ll post the results at the end of the month.
Numbers, not photos.
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