Miss Me?

Here I am, once again - having just moments ago, watched my daughter sprint down our long driveway to catch the bus that showed up early on this, the first day of school. She has the stamina of a young deer, so even though she was weighed down like a pack mule, I can’t imagine her long blazing strides caused her any discomfort.

I, on the other hand, have the stamina of an autumn leaf. It seems, it doesn’t take much more than a strong gust of wind before I’m weary, plucked from the tree and sent falling to the ground. I know this, as I recently attempted to do the Brazil Butt Workout DVD I had purchased a month earlier. Because I’m a gracious host I allowed the DVD to take its time to settle in on the kitchen counter after its long perilous journey through the mail. In other words, I wasn’t in a hurry to open the carton and view the polished marketing pamphlets showing rear ends in amazingly wonderful shape.

But the reasons for my lack of stamina and desire to begin a workout are many, some are even downright valid. I have a few heart issues that cause me to tire easy. While my heart is having one of its moments, all it takes is one flight of stairs to make me sound as though I’ve just sprinted for my life from armed hoods. The other reason would be: I'm lazy. Over the summer I continually opted out of going for my evening jog. This act of defiance pretty much cemented how out of shape I am, right now. And as the darkness and coldness descends upon us, those jogs will get easier and easier for me to forgo.

And even though my body will soon be buried under layers of wool, I'll still know what’s resting beneath and quite honestly, things aren’t as I would like them to be. I would like to think, if ever I won an unexpected Hawaiian getaway, short of being ghostly white – I’d be bikini ready. And, if I had my druthers, the only time I want to be breathless is when I’m caught in the midst of a passionate moment - which is just about as likely as me winning that Hawaiian getaway.

While unwrapping the workout DVD, a pencil fell to the floor. This pencil, I read in the Before You Begin section of the instructions, was to measure the severity of my rear end flabbiness. Let me just say, If you didn’t feel dismal about your butt beforehand, you will once you tuck a pencil under your butt cheek to see if your flabbiness is so great it will have the ability to hold a pencil in place. If so, jot it down on the Record Your Progress section. Good God. Then one is advised to take their "before" measurements: a tape measure is included. Sliding the measuring tape around my body like a ribbon slid around a neatly wrapped present, I tugged it tight, far tighter than intended – I’m quite sure.

Throwing on my Nike’s I got the DVD rolling and prepared myself for what I felt certain would be my doom. The primer portion of the workout, Booty Basics, was enough; so much so, I contemplated stopping there. I wouldn’t want to overdo it on the first day. But progress won’t be made if I continue to stand still, therefore I moved ahead. Que the Bum Bum workout. This being the workout best suited for my butt. How do I know? There is a section in the pamphlet wherein one is advised to find the butt most resembling theirs. From the diagrams shown, I deduced that I apparently, needed to Lift & Shape.

As the Brazilian tempo started to pick up, I could tell I was in serious trouble. And as the instructor shouted words of encouragement and advice, I began to groan and talk back to the TV. This is when I started to notice the fixed smiles resting comfortably on the faces of the women in the video. I wasn’t smiling. Sadly, I only lasted ten minutes. And the workout, being so intense, caused four days of nauseatingly sore leg muscles. But today is a new day. And just as my daughter bounded down the driveway to catch the bus, I will bound into my bedroom and start the DVD player. I can’t say I will make it past ten minutes, I can’t say I will be smiling, and God knows I can’t say I will enjoy it. But I can say that I respect myself for at least trying.

Sane