As I stepped on the scale this morning, I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, I was at least back down to my Vegas weight. Not quite back to my Hawaii weight, but heading in the right direction after months of tailgating and holidays.
Personally, I think it’s pretty lame that we have to work so hard to drop a few pounds when they are so easy and delicious to put on. Like I read recently in a Newsweek article, "thin may be the new black, but fat is a whole lot easier." While most people tend to struggle to eat healthy during the holidays, my nemesis is college football season. At least a minimum of six Saturdays are spent in Corvallis doing nothing but eating and drinking for hours before and after the football game. And when I’m too lazy to go for a run before tackling the 2 hour drive, it’s no wonder my pants are snug come Thanksgiving. Thankfully it’s colder by then and I can wear big comfy sweaters instead of a swim suit.
So while I’ve somehow managed to shed a few pounds, I don’t look nearly as good as I did when I went to Vegas or Hawaii. Why is that? Oh, because for those trips I was running religiously 20-25 miles a week and working out nearly every day. The problem with this is that kind of regimen is impossible to keep up. By mid-December, I’m ready to write the whole exercise thing off until January. And who does ab work when people aren’t going to see your stomach? If I’m going to go through that hassle and pain, I’m only doing it if someone is going to notice. And notice on a tropical beach with a white sand beach and clear blue water.
I realized something this morning, as I’m lighter than the past few months, but flabbier than my previous time at this weight. While I was raised to expect to have to work for the majority of my life, no one told me I was going to have to work out for the rest of my life. Although now I realize that’s probably why it’s called “work” out. Because it’s a boat load of work and energy. And it takes so much effort to stay toned. Much to my dismay, my arms are not toned just by walking past the weights. Apparently you actually have to lift the damn things. And while I can look at a box of cookies and think “nothing tastes as good as thin feels,” and put them back on the grocery store shelf, I have yet to devise a mantra like that to get my ass on the treadmill. I think I just realized I have to go to the gym for the rest of my life (please picture the scene from The Sandlot with the close up of Squints saying FOREVER in slow motion here).
When I was younger, working out was part of being in shape for sports. And they called it conditioning, which sounds more like I'm washing my hair than running my ass off. It was part of practice every day, so I didn’t really notice it. Now I work out all week and there is not a game to play in on Friday night. The whole point of working out now is just to be in shape. Talk about lack of motivation. I have no problem doing squats or wall sits because it will strengthen my legs to jump for a rebound or (attempt to) block a spiked volleyball. I do have a problem with someone telling me to do squats because they’re good for me. Really? I was also told eating carrots would help my eye sight. After having Lasik, I’m pretty doubtful about that little story my parents fed me.
Although I’m not a huge fan of having to work the rest of my life, and still plan to marry rich so I can be a lady of leisure, I’m even less of a fan of having to work out and eat healthy the rest of my life. None the less, I’ll likely find myself doing sit ups while watching TV tonight. And I’ll probably eat my vegetables, carrots and all.
No comments:
Post a Comment