February's Song: Stuck in the middle with goo


Someone asked (hello, Alexis!) whether I would be starting a new habit, given that it was a new month, and whether I would be bailing on the old one, given that January is (hooray! hooray!*) behind us.

My answer, for this and probably every other month for the foreseeable future, is that I will abso-toot-ly be starting a new habit of some kind every month from here on in. I'm a convert to the Incremental School of Change; between my extraordinary and transformative (and musical!) experience with guitar and the Marketing Calendar experiment thingy (available as part of my own, ultra-fabulous, Virgo 1.0, you-heard-it-here-first site, The Virgo Guide to Marketing AND the regular Marketing Mix blog feed AND a podcast!), there is no question in my mind that for a big, honkin' hunk of the population, slow and steady, and additive, and cumulative, is the way to go.

I oughta know: I've been dealing with a slow but steady accumulation of unsightly body fat around my midsection for probably four years now, ever since The BF and I met and decided we'd be each other's perfect partner to grow fat and happy with.

Only I'm not so happy about the fat.

Up until about two years ago, I have been thin my whole life. As in, one of those annoying people who never (really) had to worry about gaining weight. Of course, after the Crohn's diagnosis, I have a better understanding of why. My intestines were basically a crazy, Mr. Toad's Wild Ride of a log flume for nutrients: zippity doo dah, with emphasis on the zippity. And, um, doo.

Also, let us not forget that up until recently, I didn't have middle age to contend with. Or I did, but it hadn't manifested itself around my midsection yet. I've always been a bit behind the curve developmentally, so it's not too surprising. Late bloomer to everything, including the decreptitude that comes with age.

Then there was quitting acting, which did nothing to help matters. I went from being a reasonably active human being who was out and about a significant portion of the day to someone who lives and (slowly, but surely) dies by her computer. There are days where I walk less than an 1/8th of a mile. Or there used to be; Arno J. gets me out a lot now, and I've stopped wearing the pedometer.

So I was casting about for cool stuff that would keep me active. It couldn't be gym-related, because I hate the gym with the blinding white hot heat of a thousand sweaty ass-cracks in spin or whatever other stupid class they're pushing at the moment. Plus I cannot get over the lunacy of DRIVING somewhere to GET EXERCISE. Um. Yeah.

After much poking and nosing about, I've come up with three things I'm going to try (in addition to the mostly-daily Arnie walks, which are no longer enough to keep the fat off my ass):

  • Jumping Rope. My friend, Joan, has been doing this for 1/2 hour daily for years and looks fabulous. She also has been doing this for 1/2 hour daily for years. In other words, it will likely take me a few months to work up to even 10 minutes of jumping daily.
  • Mini-trampoline. Or, as trendyhood would have it "rebounding." Yes, really. The sites for the tramps and the instructional videos make my insides get a little upheavy; that kind of lousy design sense doesn't bode well for me digging on the mini-tramp. But my sister has offered one on loan, so I'm'a give it a whirl.
  • Hooping! My friend, Jodi, has been hooping for some time. Sometimes with FIRE. Yes, I said "FIRE." (I did not yell it in a crowded theater, so back off, Jack.)

For obvious reasons, I will begin with the hooping. One, I have a hoop. (See photo!) Two, I was hula hoop champeen on the Sacred Heart all-concrete, all-the-time playground back in the day, the day being somewhere around 1968 or '69. Hey, 40 years...what can it matter?

Plus, I now have fabulous Hulu action to keep me entertained whilst hooping: they just added Seasons 3 & 4 of Dragnet! I think there's kind of a fine symmetry to hooping along with the TV output of the guy responsible for introducing the two people who made me into the now-fat mass of cells I am.

Wish me luck. And please, share your February plan, if you have one.


*Not that January was bad, exactly; it was just a little hard on the ol' bod.

UPDATE! Neglected to mention that the photos in the triptych are by fabulous hoopster galpal, Jodi Womack. Woohoo for agreeing to document my body fat!