I am about the world’s worst worker-outer. I hate the gym. I have no attention span to spend an hour on an elliptical machine, and I think those of you who do must be insane. I’ve been known to refer to the perfectly toned ladies who climb Stairwells in sports bras as twinkies, and I have no plans to stop. I’m wary of anyone who does anything called a “squat thrust” in public. That just seems wrong.
I also have terrible stamina. Even in the best shape of my life, I would run out of breath quickly. I’m not a sexy exerciser. I get red-faced, sweaty, gross, panting, frizzy… it happens way too fast; it’s really just unattractive. And it hurts. So that, combined with the fact that I now live in the revoltingly humid South, does not really encourage me to be terribly active.
Oh, and my attitude sucks. Let’s just get that out there. I’ve never been inclined to try new things unless everyone else around me is also brand new at it. I don’t like feeling like the remedial kid. I’ve never liked to make a fool of myself. So there’s a lot that I don’t do.
But here’s what’s really what: I’m thirty. I have no kids, yet, but I want to be able to have healthy pregnancies. I have no reliable exercise routine. I’m actually in a normal weight range for the first time in about… six or seven years, maybe? No, probably more than that. Anyway, the point is, I was fat. Before that, however, I was skinny. Too skinny. Then I got fat. Now I’m healthy. And I’m actually at least quasi-satisfied with how I look.
And so… my goals:
1) To establish a healthy exercise routine
2) To learn to not hate exercise
3) To achieve and maintain my weight in the high 120′s, not below 126 lbs (I’ll track that each week).
4) To look good naked (and also clothed, but Spanx were not invented for naked people)
5) To one day be a hot momma, because really, who doesn’t want to be MILF-y?
To this end, I will do my best to:
1) Follow a prescribed exercise training routine (I found one in Self magazine and that’s as good a source as any, so why the hell not?)
2) Honestly record my efforts, including all setbacks.
3) Eat healthfully, putting to use what I’ve learned as a member of Weight Watchers (I recommend this program)
4) Develop healthy eating and exercise habits, in a manner that I can maintain as a lifestyle, not as a diet.
5) Have a good attitude about all of this, because really I’m doing it for myself, so if I don’t proceed with at least a modicum of positivity, why should I expect anyone else to give a damn?
However, I will not:
1) Deprive myself. Dried fruit and lemon water is not a meal. I love chocolate. I have a sweet tooth. I’ve recently discovered an affection for Irish cheddar cheese. I eat carbs. Deal with it.
2) Run a half-marathon. God knows when these became so trendy, but suddenly everyone and his brother is running a half-marathon. If I can run one mile without feeling like I’m going to throw up, that’ll be a success.
3) Acquire a “bikini body.” I hate bikinis. They’re undignified. You’re wearing your bra and underwear in public. I’m a lady. I don’t do that. I could weigh 95 pounds and I wouldn’t wear one.
4) Adopt any irritating 1980′s sporting mentalities like “push it” or “no pain, no gain” or “feel the burn.” Listen, if something hurts, I’m stopping, slowing down, going back, changing it up. The goal here is to establish a healthier lifestyle, not give myself shin splints and dry heaves.
5) Punish myself for setbacks. There are bound to be bad days. Everyone fucks up. Oh well.
So tomorrow begins day one. And frankly, I am feeling neither “pumped” nor “psyched” nor any other steroid-induced colloquialism conveying eagerness. Which tells me I probably need to get this thing started.
This project will be one of three things: a success, a failure, or a little bit of both. I suspect it's mostly likely to be the last.
Well, all right then.
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