R.T. 01-09 ~ Exercise, Who Me?

I confess. I ate my way through the holidays.

Now I have a colossal case of Mormon-Catholic guilt. Not that my two religions have anything to do with my November-December munch fest. Admittedly though, both churches have really mastered the art of “putting on a spread!” This brings me to my resolution. Now that I’ve supersized my posterior, it’s time to do something about it.

Even my hair stylist, Rachelle has very few tricks left in her bag for me. I sit in her chair and say “whatever you do, just make me look younger and thinner.” I fear I’m beyond her miracles.

So, I need to get off my posterior and MOVE! I’m certain Trina Reyes could have a field day with me! No offense Trina, but I avoid Personal Trainers. I’ve never met a lazy personal trainer who doesn’t like exercise. So, we basically have nothing in common. “You mean I have to exercise EVERY DAY? Who me?”

My mother-in law, Marj, goes to Curves almost every day. She is very committed. When she first started out, she was cautioned her to monitor her heart rate and stay in the “safe zone” for her age. She looked up and the brightly colored poster on the wall—staring at it for some time as she kept moving. She then turned to the nice Curves lady and said, “What if I’m not up there?” The Curves Target Heart Rate Chart includes movers and shakers up to age 80. Marj is 85. Why can’t I get inspiration from her?

Speaking of inspiration, I get a little every time I hear or see my radio friend, Dave. He went on some special diet and lost 50 pounds. He talks about it on the radio and you see him on billboards. And, yes, he DOES look younger and thinner.

Maybe I could use a little of my local, celebrity status to join a weight loss program and get the whole thing comped! I can see it now… “Hi, I’m Gretchen Anderson. After I ate all the turkey, ham and rib roast over the holidays, I couldn’t fit my fat arss in my ski pants…”

Rethinking it, I should hold out for something bigger. Actually, two things bigger. I’ll reserve my celebrity endorsement for new boobs. Why not? I could ski up to the camera and make the same claims—but with a newly enhanced chest.

“Hi I’m Gretchen. No one looks at how big my butt got in 2008…they just look at these! I feel better about myself, people notice me more and I have more self esteem.” Now there’s an endorsement! I’m sure there’s a plastic surgeon out there somewhere trying to think up a new marketing campaign. It’s fresh, catchy…but there’s one problem. I’m a big chicken when it comes to the prospect of anesthesia, scalpels and implants.

So, I guess it all comes back to good, old-fashioned movement and push-up bras. My resolution is to move more and spend more of Mister Man’s money at Victoria’s Secret. Hold me to it—won’t you?