I know, I know - it's been awhile. 30 days, actually. But, here's the thing: I've actually been getting out and doing things - and for the first time in a long time, the "things" aren't just work-related. A little over 24 pounds ago, I observed the following routine: work, home. I'd go to family events and celebrate holidays, but the truth of my life was that I was a lot happier ensconced in my home, writing away on my laptop. If I went out, it involved trying to find something I thought I looked ok in, which was virtually impossible in my mind. Usually, I reached for whatever was black and billowing, following the time-honored premise that black was slimming and billowing hid everything. SO not true! I looked like a lumpy mourner. Now, I'm not going to pretend that the weight I've lost is enough to make me toss every loose-fitting, black garment I own; it isn't. But what I've started to realize is that the weight I've lost does show - and that's been a hard thing to admit. Funny, isn't it? Those of us who struggle - or have struggled - with weight in our lives work so hard to lose it yet some of us, myself included, can't (or won't allow ourselves) to see the results when the pounds lost begin to add up. I've had to actually buy some new clothing; nothing major - but a few things to replace clothes I just can't wear any longer. Where did I go? Right to my old size. Even after trying on a gorgeous purple/pink raincoat and finding that even when buttoned and belted, it gathered horribly - I walked out of the store with it. My thought? "I can belt it and you can't tell a thing!" It took a friend saying, "If you can't take it back, hang it in your closet until you reach your goal weight - then take it to a tailor." Well, I couldn't take it back: it was an Anne Klein trench coat, on sale for $49.50 at TJ Maxx. I was a delusional Maxx-inista! You'd have thought I'd learned my lesson, wouldn't you? Nope. Yesterday another friend and I went to LL Bean as I needed to return a pair of jeans that were purchased before the holidays and never worn (needed to be hemmed; if you know me you'll appreciate the futility of that purchase. I can't sew - and that includes hemming!) With my LL Bean gift card clutched in my fist, I headed right back to "the women's section". I'd have gotten there, too, if my friend hadn't steered me over to the standard sizes. I tried things on and, even though I wound up back in my old stomping grounds (and bought a couple of things 2 sizes smaller than I had been wearing), it was because I wasn't comfortable with the proportion - not because I couldn't fit into them. I had to wonder - if she could see me as I really look, why couldn't I? I wish I could tell you that I've given the question a great deal of thought and have had some sort of epiphany, but I can't. I've thought about it and the best that I can come up with at the moment is that I don't know many people who see themselves realistically. It's easier to see the flaws than it is to see the whole picture - maybe because those flaws are what we use as our excuse to sit at home and stop taking chances. Maybe the true success of this whole journey will be the ability to recognize the flaws as (hopefully) smaller parts of one whole - and make decisions to change what I can and just get over the rest of it. Otherwise, all I'll accomplish is becoming a thinner homebody! OK....enough introspective, serious stuff.
Let's dish once more about our old nemesis, Wii Fit Plus.
Flush with my walking success, I hauled the Wii Fit Plus from under the bookcase. After all, I am now doing 2.5 miles almost daily in the cemetery AND did so with my sister during her APRIL visit. Lord knows what distance I'll have to achieve when she comes back in July! I've lost over 24 pounds. Surely I can take an electronic trainer with an attitude! I fired it up and stepped on the balance board. First thing I hear from the animated image of the balance board on the TV screen is, "Oomph!" Nice. It then reminds me that it's been a VERY LONG TIME since I've "been back". No mention of the smaller "Mii" that's returned. Just a load of guilt. I get it now. The creators of Wii are Catholics! They should really have put a warning label on the package. Nevertheless, I submitted to a battery of tests to determine BMI, weight, height and my "Wii Fit Age", based on all of that data. No, I'm not going to tell you what it is. Let's just say that I've picked a very appropriate location for my daily walks. The long and the short of the matter is that I need to lose weight (duh!), I don't have good balance (ditto on the 'duh'!) and I need to start working with a Wii trainer before I drop in my tracks. Very encouraging. I selected my trainer. I had a choice between a woman who looked like a runway size zero and a man who had a nice behind. Went with the latter; didn't have to think about it.
"General MacArthur" or "Doug", as I've affectionately named him, thought I should work on my balance and strength and so recommended a suite of exercises that include slalom skiing, ski jumping and the dreaded hula-hoop. In the slalom skiing, one must stand on the balance board and lean from one side to another to guide the little Wii skier through the "gates". Missed gates are multiplied by some randomly punitive numeric factor and used to calculate the final score. Scores are used to calculate calories burned. The amount of time one spends on the Wii Fit Plus is tallied and stored in a little electronic pig-like creature that's supposed to represent a piggy bank. I just find it cruel. Particularly when I could hear MacArthur chuckling as I lined up my skier in the gate. The gun went off and my little fat skier took to the course. She was taken off the course in a little Wii ambulance after I managed to pitch her headlong in to the first 4 gates. No updates have been released on her condition. Another Mii skier was conjured for the second run. Apparently, these little gals can take one or two gate crashes without injury as she just bounced right back up again. They're perfectionists, however, as they appear to get really depressed about missed gates. I'll elaborate. After crossing the finish line, she pumped her fat little arms, "stem-Christied" to a stop and awaited her score. The screen turned from Mii to the numeric score which was, predictably, terrible. When the screen turned back to little Mii, she was trying to wrestle the gun away from the starter. She, too, was hauled away from the course. I decided to attempt the hula-hoop competition to avoid any further injuries or suicide attempts. It's just a little plastic circle on the chubby little Mii's hips; how much trouble could that cause. As it turns out, quite a bit.........
We begin with one hula-hoop and some snappy little music playing in the background. Mii is on a dais and two of her little Wii buddies are against the front wall of the - what? - Hula Hoop Arena. Each holds a hula hoop, pumping it in time to the music. Mii (ok, ok - I ) begin circling my hips to get the hula-hoop moving. It's around her waist, it's up to her stomach - things are looking good, if a little choppy. A little window pops up at the bottom of the screen telling me that it's ideal to move my hips in large, smooth circular movements. Helpful. What would really be 'ideal' would be having the body of that female trainer and not having to humiliate Mii-self like this on a daily basis! The window disappears and I see that one of the Wii 'friends' is holding his hula-hoop aloft and smiling. Moments later....BONK!....he's hurled it toward Mii and it's bounced off her head. The helpful window is back. "Lean your body in the direction of the hula-hoop and remain still." How 'helpful' it would have been to get that direction before the large purple lump had formed on Mii's forehead! Window disappears and I can see that the other Wii friend has hoisted her hula-hoop above her head and is grinning at me. She pitches. I lean. I catch it, but my other hula hoop is circling my knees wildly. I begin gyrating like an aging burlesque dancer and, sure enough, both hoops rise to circle Mii's ample waist...just in time for another hoop to come flying at her head. Suddenly everything stops and Mii raises her arms over her head in triumph. But not for long. The score - and accompanying commentary - shows us as "beginners". Like we didn't already know that!
Back outside - this time, to the ski jump competition. Another fresh set of skiers to send hurtling down a simulated, icy ski jump. The instructions say to crouch (remember my knee issues!) and lean forward to propel the jumper down the slope. When the red area is reached, I am to snap upright and hold my position until the skier safely lands. Seems simple enough. I crouch, leaning forward. My knees immediately send up a protest which I, of course, ignore. Mii picks up speed, heading for the red "hot zone" for take-off. Her skis cross into the hot zone and I snap to attention. 89 meters. Mii looks dejected. I am in serious pain. There was a definite snap on take-off - two of them, in fact. Off to ice my knees. The second skier will have to wait another day.
As I was sitting pumping ibuprofen and alternating between heat and ice, I perused the other exercise options. Yoga, driving range, rhythmic kung fu.........wait - yoga? My knees locked just as a reminder of the positions into which yoga would definitely require them to twist and fold. Hmmm. Not all yoga moves are done on a floor mat; some are completed while standing. It is a story for another day but for now, I will say that I've tried it and I like it. There are stretches that promise to tone trouble spots like thighs, hips, arms and waist. If I can get my upper arms to stop waving at the same time that my hands do, in the words of the immortal MacArthur, "I shall return"....................... at least until my knees give out!
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