I've been vaguely threatening you all with my promises to get fit and lose weight. Sure, Tamoxifen and chemo-induced menopause are partly to blame. Truly, though, it's bad management. I have a pretty good idea too, that if I were working out and eating right, consistently and well, all of my chunk would melt away.
You as a body owner, just can't keep letting every nefarious thing into your temple and thinking there will be no bad endings. Sugar, white flour, processed food are just bad for business.
Another result of allowing SHIT into your temple is a lack of solid, uninterrupted sleep. What to do late at night, when one is wide awake and waiting for the Tums to kick in?
HSN and QVC are great, what with their flirty, fluttery, body-friendly clothing. I already have way too much of those acetate wonders and I fucking refuse to go up yet another size. A few nights ago PIYO was on, slinging their program. PIYO is a branch of Beachbody, and is an acronym for Pilates/Yoga. The instructor is fit but not overly muscled, perky and pretty. She seems filled with a joy that I have a hazy recollection of during my workout-years. She says that the beauty of the workouts is that ANYONE, ANY SIZE and ANY AGE can do them, and shows before and after results with real ladies. The transformations are amazing, but not overly-sensational. They appear to be real.
I foment excitement over a few days, then sign up for PIYO on the Beachbody site. This morning, I did my first workout, "Sweat".
Chalene, the instructor, is refreshing and awe-inspiring in her fitness and grace. She's encouraging without being an asshole (Yes I see you Jillian Michaels), yelling (ditto) or being overly dancy. There is gentle, easy to follow, non-bouncy movement and lots of stretching. Still, the bitch means business. Mikey comes out during the last 15 minutes of it, and only utters sleepy, "Damn woman", "Whoooa!" before dragging his ass back to bed. He's impressed.
I learn that the rest of the program is only available on DVD, even though streaming is available for Sweat. Fine then, thanks to Ebay, it's on the way.
Already the pain is setting in...that fine, dull, happy muscle ache that has not visited my temple for years. It's nice to see it again. So instead of hurrying along its visit and not enjoying the painful, awkward moments, I decide to welcome it with open arms, and even invite it in for a much longer stay. We have forgotten each other.