Christmas is over and dieting is in the air. I realized I had to do something about the few little bulges that have somehow appeared from tasting all the Christmas goodies that I snitched when I thought no one was looking. I’d rather be naughty than nice.
I started a diet routine, and I tried, I really did, but those little portions on my plate looked more like fly specks than real food. How can such a small offering fill the yearning that my stomach is telling me I deserve? The only thing that quenched that was a double helping of Pralines and Cream at Scoops Ice Cream Parlor.
My friend Pheenie suggested I try going to the local gym for exercise. I told her that wouldn’t work because I didn’t like torture. My idea of exercise is to take my cat on a leash and cruise up and down on the sidewalk in front of my house.
Pheenie said if I wanted to lose those drooping love handles, I would have to either starve or do some exercise or both. She said there was a class at the Y offering Low Impact exercising especially for the older crowd.
After a few days of pondering, I convinced myself that it wouldn’t hurt to try something that was ‘for the older crowd’, that would mean it would be easy and I always looking for the easy.
Trust me. LOW IMPACT is a lie! There was nothing low impact about the way I hit the floor when I lifted my legs and placed them down. I swear the muscles and fat on my calves did the twist all by themselves and not in slow motion. I’ll have bruises for life. I just know I will!
How do people keep up with that stuff? The class did ten side-by-sides by the time I did one. The leader said to go at your own speed. The music got louder. The pace accelerated. I was pooped already. I sank to my knees, a fuzziness rolling in.
In the distance, I could vaguely hear a voice shouting over the loud speaker. “Breathe in and out – in and out- keep the rhythm.” Were they crazy? Who cared about any rhythm? If I survive this, I’ll take their rhythm and stuff it, and the impact won’t be low either, I promised myself as the lights went out.
When I came to, I found myself still on my knees, in a praying position, facing the door marked exit. I figured someone must have dragged me there when I was out of it. I found a sign around my neck that said: ‘Try Yoga’. And how was your day? Ms. Klara
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