I’ve been walking and/or doing step aerobics every day for a couple weeks now. Because I was pretty sure I was at death’s door after my walk yesterday, I decided to do a workout video today instead. I have an old Kathy Ireland tape that I haven’t picked up in years. And now I remember why.
I popped the tape in my player and Kathy Ireland appeared on the screen looking perfectly coiffed, makeup beautifully applied, body skinny and toned. I immediately hated her. Before she started, she introduced her mom who was working out next to her on the video. If her mom can do this, I can totally do it too, I convinced myself.
She began in a soothing voice, “Let’s do some warm-ups,” then she proceeded to contort her body in ways worthy of a Barnum and Bailey’s side show. Oh, this can’t be right, I thought to myself. If this is just the warm-up, what the heck is she going to do for the work-out?
“Doesn’t that feel good?” she cooed. No, Kathy. No, this most definitely does not feel good. Lying in a lounge chair, a margarita in hand, and a hot young guy rubbing sunscreen on me would feel good. Stabbing myself in the eye with a sharp stick would feel better than this. Getting hit by a cement truck would feel better than this. But this, this torture you’re promoting, does not feel good, you evil work-out devil.
Why does she have to show off her abs like that? Is that really necessary? I glanced down at my own abs. The only evidence of a six-pack was the jello-like squishiness left from giving birth to my six-pack of kids. But wait a minute! What’s that I see? I think I see an ab! I did one more crunch before the searing pain hit me, making me realize my “ab” is actually just a hernia.
But that’s okay because this week a couple people have told me that my face looks thinner, which, of course, is everyone’s dream come true. I mean, that’s the whole reason I started exercising – I thought my face looked fat. Not my butt. My face. I figured I could stand to trim a few inches off my cheeks. The cheeks on my face, that is. Uh huh. Why is it that the first place we notice weight loss is in our faces and/or our boobs? It’s just cruel, I tell ya.
I kept huffing and puffing, attempting to do sit-ups or at least not die. Why does she have that stupid smile plastered on her face, I thought angrily. Does she think she’s fooling anyone into thinking that this is pleasant in any way, shape, or form? I have a butt cramp and I want to slap that smile off her face. Is it possible for your butt muscle to catch on fire from too many squats?
After a couple more minutes of watching the evil woman taunt me, I decided I’d had enough and staggered over to my scale. Obviously, since I’d suffered so greatly, I must have lost at least five pounds. I stepped on the scale and was utterly shocked to see that my weight was the same as it was before I started the tape! Is it too much to ask for instant gratification and immediate weight-loss after exercising for twenty minutes? I think not!
I collapsed on the floor, gasping like a fish out of water, too tired and sore to get in the shower and too depressed that I hadn’t dropped three dress sizes during my workout. I did what’s becoming a daily ritual for me – I denounced my supermodel plan and embraced my lie around like a slug plan. At least until tomorrow when I’ll devise a new form of torture and force myself to exercise again.
She began in a soothing voice, “Let’s do some warm-ups,” then she proceeded to contort her body in ways worthy of a Barnum and Bailey’s side show. Oh, this can’t be right, I thought to myself. If this is just the warm-up, what the heck is she going to do for the work-out?
“Doesn’t that feel good?” she cooed. No, Kathy. No, this most definitely does not feel good. Lying in a lounge chair, a margarita in hand, and a hot young guy rubbing sunscreen on me would feel good. Stabbing myself in the eye with a sharp stick would feel better than this. Getting hit by a cement truck would feel better than this. But this, this torture you’re promoting, does not feel good, you evil work-out devil.
Why does she have to show off her abs like that? Is that really necessary? I glanced down at my own abs. The only evidence of a six-pack was the jello-like squishiness left from giving birth to my six-pack of kids. But wait a minute! What’s that I see? I think I see an ab! I did one more crunch before the searing pain hit me, making me realize my “ab” is actually just a hernia.
But that’s okay because this week a couple people have told me that my face looks thinner, which, of course, is everyone’s dream come true. I mean, that’s the whole reason I started exercising – I thought my face looked fat. Not my butt. My face. I figured I could stand to trim a few inches off my cheeks. The cheeks on my face, that is. Uh huh. Why is it that the first place we notice weight loss is in our faces and/or our boobs? It’s just cruel, I tell ya.
I kept huffing and puffing, attempting to do sit-ups or at least not die. Why does she have that stupid smile plastered on her face, I thought angrily. Does she think she’s fooling anyone into thinking that this is pleasant in any way, shape, or form? I have a butt cramp and I want to slap that smile off her face. Is it possible for your butt muscle to catch on fire from too many squats?
After a couple more minutes of watching the evil woman taunt me, I decided I’d had enough and staggered over to my scale. Obviously, since I’d suffered so greatly, I must have lost at least five pounds. I stepped on the scale and was utterly shocked to see that my weight was the same as it was before I started the tape! Is it too much to ask for instant gratification and immediate weight-loss after exercising for twenty minutes? I think not!
I collapsed on the floor, gasping like a fish out of water, too tired and sore to get in the shower and too depressed that I hadn’t dropped three dress sizes during my workout. I did what’s becoming a daily ritual for me – I denounced my supermodel plan and embraced my lie around like a slug plan. At least until tomorrow when I’ll devise a new form of torture and force myself to exercise again.
1 comment:
YOU ROCK!
best,
MOV
http://www.mothersofbrothersblog.blogspot.com
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