The Holiday season is [crashing] upon us. Tis the time of year when we get together with family and friends to enjoy a little bit of laughter, socializing, and drinking. But wait, there’s one more element….the bonding glue of every social event….(key the heavenly choir)…FOOD!
What do you mean ONE per person?!?
I am continuously amazed at my ability to shovel more calories into the hole underneath my nose during this time of year than the entire calendar year combined! So it should come as no surprise when my Ann Taylors begin to get snuggish (one of my many made up words) around the waist. But I am always shocked to feel my newly formed Holiday muffin top. “Hmm, now how did that get there?” is the question I find myself asking in total surprise each year. Initially, I suck it (as in the buldge) in until sucking it in no longer works. Then I resort to bed gymnastics, contortions and daring physical feats all aimed at maneuvering my flesh mound into the desired outfit. If I can mold myself into the clothing without passing out or popping off a button, then it is deemed a success. Who cares if I have to walk like a robot all day, laugh gently and sit gingerly with extreme care…It Was A Success!!! My Ann Taylors Are ON MY Body!
My Holiday muffin top
Eventually, an intervention must occur and it usually comes months later in the form of physical torture. It only makes sense that after months of shoving unlimited amounts of food in, it is going to take some sweat and massive physical pain to burn it off. Darn you late 30’s metabolism!
Enter the gym.
I’m sure all of us have been to the gym at some point in our lives right? We’ve all see the sights…the people and their bodies in various forms of aerobic splendor -some of which are more visually [blinding] traumatic than others. The smells. I’ll let the period be a period at the end of the smells. The grunts, gasps, groans, convulsions, spasms and general gym noise. Ahhhh, now this is the atmosphere of burning calories.
And yes, while there is nothing quite like the gym experience, I have chosen to eradicate my muffin top in my home with my precious elliptical gym. You see, home is where I can sweat, stink, become a partial exhibitionist, grunt and groan in my private nirvana.
Well, semi-private because of the kids and their tendency to get grossed out easily. Not that I am concerned with my candid ability to cause their stomachs to churn but I am bothered by the fact that they will repeat the incident to every stranger within ear shot for days, months and years to come. AND usually at the most inopportune time like when I am meeting the parents of their school friends. It is during this crucial time of introduction(s) that my darlings will belt “This is my mom and she drips sweat from her belly button!” Nice. Just what these parents wanted to know about me and my belly button. But even given the situation of my privacy being held hostage by kids with diarrhea of the mouth, I am still opting for my home gym.
And besides, where else do you get a view of those suffering along side you quite. like. this??? Taken while I was moving out on my elliptical hence, the blur.
I’m suffering so why are you taking my picture? You sick, sick sadist!
AHAHHHAA! Let the home gym experience begin, yet again! Ann Taylor: be prepared to fit beautifully on my bod.