So, in a blatant attempt to win something*, I'm going to write off-topic-ish and share a story or two about fitness and my quest for glory and skinnitude (specifically, I will tell you about some stupid fitness-related purchases I have made). Naturally, fitness and health and well-being and all that crap relate to beauty, but normally I avoid that type of crazy talk on FCH, because... well, because I am lazy and do not care for exercise.
However, I want to lose the baby weight (Please - - - I can call it what I want even though I had some of this weight prior to Ara's conception over two years ago . Whatever. This is my blog and I will call it what I want.). To lose the baby weight (ahem), I must (probably) start moving around. I will therefore embarrass myself by sharing some of the lengths I've gone to in the past simply to feel healthy - and fit in some kick-ass jeans.
Let us begin.
I like to believe I am a runner, deep down inside. Very deep down. Buried, in fact. Buried deeply. I have made mention of this delusion before, and by now most of my family and friends have stopped laughing; I'm glad to give them the opportunity to resume their hysteria. So, several times in my life I have tossed money away on expensive running shoes and sweat-wicking socks and lightweight-yet-water-resistant jackets. If you haven't figured out by the tone of this paragraph, "I like to believe I am a runner" means "Multiple times in my life I realized that I am not a runner and after a few dozen short bouts of trotting awkwardly around my neighborhood I donated the shoes and other associated running implements to charity."
Bummer. But don't worry, I have other delusions to occupy my downtime.
Next up: Jumping for Joy. In the interest of saving money, I once attempted to get fit by jumping rope. It worked for Rocky, didn't it? Sadly, I am not Rocky. I managed to consistently thwack myself about the shoulder and head (and knee and shin) with the springy-weight-thingy on the damn rope. Then it occurred to me what this all must sound like to my downstairs neighbor, what with the jumping and the cursing and the throwing of the weighted rope. I quit out of embarrassment. Months later, my dog chewed the rope, and that was that.
Apartment life clearly wasn't great for noisy, in-home fitness projects, so I thought I'd try one of those videos that helps you learn how to crunch and stretch and bend in ways that whittle your floppy parts while building your skimpy parts. My video came with these:
That went well. You can't use them barefoot, but they kept slipping off
of the front of my shoes. I felt like an ass. Eventually, I think my
rabbit peed on the videotape and it went in the trash. Oh, I forgot - this one came with one of those exercise ball things that "strengthens your core" - whatever that means. I think the ball is in the closet upstairs (deflated). I wonder if my daughter would like to play with it?
I tried another videotape. (Clearly, I have not had a lot of money, historically speaking, to throw at big fitness purchases. This is what we in the business refer to as a "mixed blessing".) Do you remember this one?
Suffice it to say, I never did end up looking like Cindy Crawford. By the way, that tape - which is still available for purchase at Amazon.com (!) - had one fiendishly evil sideways crunch that was a real killer. I remember wobbling around like a dying fish, admiring that Cindy could actually do that and not turn purple.
So we've tried a lot of the "cheap" exercises, but they still qualify as "fitness-related purchases" no matter how little money I spent, right? Well, this one probably doesn't count because I didn't spend anything except a little self respect, but I'm telling you anyway because I'm way into this full disclosure thing at this point. OK, so I was one of those adults who found herself back at her parent's house for a time, and lo and behold one day I stumbled upon my old bike! "Wahoo!", I thought to myself. "The perfect opportunity to work in some fitness!" I pumped up those tires and use a rag to dust off the layers of grime and I jumped on. I wobbled a bit, but it really is just like riding a bike and I figured it out fairly quickly. I cycled up the street, wind in my hair, the sun on my back, and took a little tour around the neighborhood. I was high with endorphins (and a bit of lightheadedness from the dust, man)! I was free - like a bird! A bird on a bike. A puking bird on a bike. Yes, you heard me right: I biked so well that I ended up in someone's yard vomiting. I was full of pride. As I walked the bike home, I remembered that the last time I had been on a bike the same thing happened. Why did I not remember it until then!? Needless to say, I believe the bike is probably a bit dusty again.
My most recent foray into fitness was with my husband. Early on in our relationship, blinded by love, we both decided that we wanted to be healthy. We had already quit smoking, and giving up fatty, carb-laden foods was obviously out of the question, so we made our first "couple purchase": we joined a gym. I had a membership to Bally's back in the day, and paid off the balance for months after I quit going ("What a meat market," I told people disdainfully when they asked how it was going, suspecting it wasn't going at all. Shut up. It was a meat market...). I later had a membership with the YMCA and loved it! I went religiously for the better part of a year, lifting weights and doing cardio and learning all sorts of exercise jargon like "abs" and "traps" and "hamstrings". I really enjoyed it, but my fibromyalgia kicked in and I had to quit going for awhile... and then never went back. (Note: fibro is to blame for the bike puking debacle, too, in case you were wondering. I know this in retrospect, but it's still humiliating!) My husband had been a regular gym-goer... until he wasn't anymore. So we were stoked! We were excited! We later swore we would never tell anyone that we never went, even once. I still have the "temporary membership pass" and we have paid off the gym. Clearly, my husband and I were Meant To Be.
Finally, I shamefacedly admit to having fallen prey to midnight advertising many years ago. I did indeed do this:
If you've been paying attention to this post, I see no reason to go into detail as to how this one ended.
*The prize: A Nintendo Wii and Wii Fit "super-combo-dealio" from Three Kid Circus. Please note that the idea that this thing calculates my body mass index terrifies me - I do not believe a computer should know me that well, but in my pursuit of gorgeousity, I will risk the threat.