Sit-Ups ‘Til Your Eyes Pop Out
So I bent down to the end of the shoe-binding, and it was the damn thing again. I was blessed with thin genes and was one of those women that other women looked with envy, as I grabbed unladylike mountains of food and never won one ounces I naively thought it would last forever, and I want to die an old woman with firm breasts, a tight butt and flat tummy. Thecomplained meat shocked and horrified me, and I knew I have to now seriously, so that along with running, I took aerobics, step classes, spinning and Pilates. I started weight training and a new routine of leg lifts, curls and squats. I bought an ex-Blaster. At brunch one days I put my new training program to my friend Judi. "This has led to an obsessive-compulsive disorder. Judi pronounced.
"They have already all too well. Here, eat some of my Eggs Benedict, you Sicko." She pushedthe sticky plate toward me. "If you get any better, I can not be friends with you anymore." Judi idea of exercise was out of bed in the morning and their idea of healthy eating was a green salad and Diet Coke with their fettuccine Alfredo and chocolate mousse. "I have to work on his stomach," I said. "I want six-pack abs." "Hah!" Judi said. "I do it: You see, in an ad in the back of a women's magazine, seventy years old, wrinkled face like linen on a hot day, but you'restand in a string bikini, all associated with the six-pack abs a high gloss. "
"That will not happen," I said. "I will had a new face before the shooting." I dipped a piece of pineapple in low-fat yogurt, but felt by the faint scent of Eggs Benedict to blow my nose. "" You're fifty years old. It can not be a Six-pack, if you go more than fifty, if you are a liquor store. "" Of course I can, "I said." I just have to work even harder. "" Have we not always say that we were oldgraceful? "" Yes, as we are fifteen. We have also said that we never spank our children in the supermarket and we would never be a cell phone and we would never do to our mothers. "Judi shrugged his shoulders, pulled back his plate and took a big bite, dripping with hollandaise.
"Look at Cher, I continued." They look to Goldie Hawn. Every time I see Goldie flat stomach in one of her little body-skimming dresses at the Academy Awards I want to scream. She is older than me. If she has a flat stomach, I cantoo. "
"The women are spending more money for plastic surgery, except as we spend on our mortgages. Get real. Nobody. We are all old. Let's do it with some dignity." I wondered Judi words, when I was in the middle of my new training program. What does this mean aging gracefully, I asked myself one day when I twenty extra squats. Amble? ? Abandonment I ran an extra mile of that day. On the day when I finished fifty and thirty-five crunches leg raises, I heard the voice of Judi's in my head: "No oneliberated. We are all old. Let's do it with dignity. "
And when I finally worked up to sixty-two reps on the Ab-Blaster (shooting for a century) I collapsed, panting, asking, wherever I was. The belly-roll was still there, despite my efforts to punish. I could sit would probably not sit-ups to my eyes and slammed the fat pads, undeterred, about me funny. I lay on the floor and wiped the sweat-soaked hair. And then I got up, grabbed the enraged ex-Blaster, as if ithad bitten me and took it out to the trash. I vowed to accept being fifty-something with all its consequences: excess hair where I didn’t want it, thinning hair where I did, drooping breasts, sagging butt, and the inability to focus on my eyelashes as I tried to coat them with mascara. I would be happy with who I was and how I looked now.
I would. I really would. I opened a Diet Coke and drank thirstily, looking out the kitchen window, breathing in the smell of the sunlit air. Something can be moved through the garbage, and I frowned and blinked. Someone raised the ex-Blaster. Hesitating for only a fraction of a second, I ran to the door and flung it open with a thud! "Hey!" I screamed, running off. "Let the good. I need this!"
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