Today, I am super so far behind on stuff I absolutely need to do, so here is something I wrote four years ago on this day. I’m even fatter now than I was then, but my back is all better, and I bet I could kick Jane Fonda’s titanium ass.
Look, this is us smiling after running (well, running and walking) for half an hour this morning!
Sheesh, I need to do something about my teeth, though. Oh well.
1. I don’t know how successfully I’ve hidden this in the few photos of myself that I’ve put online, but I am 5’5″ and in the last fifteen years, I’ve put on average of seven pounds of permanent weight for each baby. This is what happens when all you do is sit down.
2. I was having stabbing pain, excruciating burning from my lower back down to my toes, tingling, numbness, and general unpredictable sciatic misery, which finally sent me to the doctor, because I couldn’t believe that I could become that debilitated just from doing nothing. The x-ray revealed that I have “mild to moderate degeneration” between the discs of my spine, brought on by age, weight gain, and inactivity, or, in layman’s terms, being a loser. I am adding that phrase, “mild to moderate degeneration,” to my list of possible new names for the new blog I’ll never start. Other possibilities I’ve gathered over the years include what Mark Shea called me one time (“History’s Greatest Monster”), what an outraged reader told my editor (“Fisher Is Unrepentant!”), and what my mechanic wrote about the van (“Misfires Badly Under Any Significant Load”).
3. A sad little drama recently played out in a shopping plaza nearby. First there was nothing but a Curves Gym. Then Five Guys Burger and Fries moved in next door. Curves held out for a while, but one day the windows went dark, and they packed up and moved away, presumably shaking their chubby fists in rage, with an embarrassing amount of flappy movement around the upper arm area, as they went. And then, in the space where Curves used to be, Rick’s Gourmet Ice Cream moved in.
4. This is not going to become one of those tedious blogs that does nothing but record how many reps or grams or kilos or whatever (wait, I think I’m talking about cocaine now) of cardio I accomplished and which variety of kale I like to add to my puke smoothie. (Sorry, I just friggin hate the whole smoothie thing. You still have teeth, people. Use ’em.) I will try not to make a big deal out of it unless I think it would be genuinely interesting to someone besides myself and my doctor.
5. I picked out an exercise DVD that looked like a reasonable place to start. Today, I did it for the first time, and had two shocks: one is that it’s designed for senior citizens; and two, it wasn’t easy to keep up. Argh. Yep, ol’ Jane Fonda is going on and on about her titanium hip and how great it is that we’re doing so much to combat memory loss, and I’m screaming on the inside “ISN’T TWENTY MINUTES UP YET, YOU HOLLOW CHEEKED BITCH?”
6. I used to be able to run five miles. Cursing the whole way, but still, I used to be able to do it. Now, I can’t even curse for five miles straight, running or not. I don’t even have profanity stamina anymore.
7. In the week that has passed since I wrote #1-6, I have put off reading what Pope Francis said about people who complain about 73 distinct times. Because look, I got the flu, which meant that I was too weak and feverish to do my back exercises, which meant that I couldn’t sleep because of back pain, which meant that the baby decided this would be a fine time to give up sleeping. Like, just quit, flat out. She goes to bed at the normal time, but wakes up at 1:30, ready to play. The next two hours are spent with constructive thoughts like, “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME” and “HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FUNCTION” and “I THINK I HAVE TWO FRIENDS NAMED LYDIA BUT MAYBE ONLY ONE I’M NOT SURE ABOUT THAT BECAUSE THERE IS THAT ONE LYDIA BUT THEN THERE IS THAT OTHER ONE ALSO AND THAT MAKES TWO BUT ON THE OTHER HAND I’M NOT SURE HOW MANY FRIENDS I HAVE NAMED LYDIA.” (See, fever.) Then I went to throw up, but my back hurt too much to reach the toilet. Also, I took a shower and it turned out the soap had a bug on it, and I was washing myself with bug.
And THAT’S why I say sometimes it’s okay to just go through your medicine chest and see what you can find. Because, sheesh.
I don’t like smoothies either. Even the delicious ones. I don’t like pudding, applesauce or mashed potatoes. I don’t like milkshakes. I mean, some of those things I might consume, but it doesn’t feel like I’ve EATEN anything. If I have pudding for dessert I just want four cookies afterward. My psyche says “if you haven’t chewed, it wasn’t food.” My favorite snack is tortilla chips–and when I’m dieting, leftover salad. CRUNCH!
Somebody else who doesn’t like mashed potatoes! I’ll eat most potatoes, but not baked and not mashed. They just seem so bland to me, even with butter, salt, etc. My family always looks at me like I’m crazy (not that they’re wrong, but still).
Congratulations on keeping up with the running!
I wish there was a “like” button. Sometimes I don’t have anything intelligent to contribute and rarely comment but I like what you post anyway. 🙂 Whether it makes me laugh, cry or be mad at you. But I always get over being mad at you and look forward to your next post. Sorry for this stupid comment but I wanted you to know I’m probably one of many lurking fans. I don’t mean I’m probably a fan, I *am* a fan, I mean I’m probably one of many. Lurkers. Lurking fans. The end. 🙂
heheheheh
I loved this the first time too.
I’ve been in sloth mode myself lately. I bumped into my sister yesterday, decked out in leopard skin spandex. “Off to the gym!” She said cheerfully. “Getting biceps like Madonna” she added for good measure.
“I walked briskly on the beach with Juno.” I countered, “and Madonna’s biceps look like the skeletor.” I sulked.
My daughter that just graduated in clothing design says that the chair of her department who has a clothing line instructed them that women plump up in their 40s and then skinny down after menopause.
So much to look forward to.
Pretty sure J.Jill caters to us older premenopausal gals. I just bought a lovely top in size petite xs! I’m telling you there’s nothing extra small about me. I said to my sister that the top was a little more than I wanted to spend, but it was EXTRA SMALL! Petite, no less. Quite the marketing strategy those folks at J.Jill have.
KILOS of cocaine? Gosh, I hope you haven’t done that. Or even any. But I am delighted that you are still doing the Couch to 5K thing, which you are, right? Hence the pic? Because if you can do it, heck, I can, too. I am older than you are, but I don’t have anywhere near that many children, which has got to have a compensating effect for both of us.