I noticed something awful the other day: I have a hard time getting out of my car. Now, I’m not incredibly obese, but according to the doctor, I could definitely stand to start a diet and exercise program. Last year at this time, when I was preparing for my wedding, I started Jillian Michael’s 30 Day Shred workout routine (via DVD). I was amazed after just two weeks. I could sit up out of bed more easily, get out of my car more easily, had more energy, felt better about myself, and my clothes fit better. It was astounding. Then I got married, spent the majority of the honeymoon walking around Europe, and returned to my teacher life of being stressed out, stress eating, lack of sleep, and minimal exercise.
When we brought Feeny Monster into our lives, I thought I’d get more exercise by walking him all of the time, but my teaching schedule prevailed. (Don’t worry, Feeny gets walked a lot; my husband walks him at lunchtime, and I help on the weekends.) At my doctor’s appointment yesterday, when the nurse asked me if I exercise, I laughed. Seriously. Then, when I was out with a few friends, someone said “Be chunky and free!” (in regards to painting technique) and I (without hesitation or thought) said, “That’s my life.”
Today, in an effort to start new habits (and to also procrastinate doing the grading I inevitably have to complete) I took Feeny on a very brisk walk around the neighborhood and the park; I even jogged for a stretch (until I was afraid of having an asthma attack without my inhaler nearby). Then I returned home and put Jillian’s DVD into the bluray and commenced my punishment for being a lazy slob for so long. Remembering how much easier it got the more I did it, I pushed through workout one and then fell apart on the floor for a few minutes, before sitting my chubby butt on the couch to breathe deeply.
Feeny was extremely confused as to what the hell I was doing bouncing around the living room, laying on the floor making weird movements, and yelling at the TV. When I did jumping jacks, he tried to do them with me. Such a great supporter he is! When I laid on the floor for crunches, he stood over me looking down at me with a “What are you doing?” kind of expression on his face, before proceeding to bite my hands as they raised for chest flies. Eventually, he gave up on me and laid down behind the couch.
So, here’s to not having a heart attack before age 30, to fitting back into my old wardrobe, to having more energy, and feeling healthy again.