I don’t belong to a gym. Oh, I used to. If I could calculate all of the money that I have spent in my adult lifetime paying for gym memberships I could buy a skinny body. As opposed to work out for it.
As a teen, I weighed about 100 lbs soaking wet. I ate anything and everything I wanted. I prayed every day for boobs and some kind of butt. My mom even bought me foam pads to put in my bra. Those didn’t work out so well when I was a cheerleader and after a cheer jump, I would have cock-eyed tits–one higher than the other. What I would have done for a Victoria’s Secret bra in the 70’s. My entire high school love life would have been vastly different.
The girls with the bigger breasts always had boyfriends. Even if they picked their nose during orchestra and ate it. When I went to college and put on the freshman 20 (in my case), I FINALLY grew the nicest perkiest breasts the Kappa Kappa Keg house ever saw. Eureka! I had dates, boys liked me, I had a boyfriend. And no matter how much beer I drank, or Seagram’s 7 and real Seven UP, I didn’t gain a pound.
I didn’t know a soul who worked out in college. I went to a small women’s college in the south and rarely, if ever, did I see anyone jogging, biking, or walking around campus other than to go to class. We didn’t even have a fitness center that I know of at that time. None of my friends were that big. We drank copious amounts of beer and alcohol. But the one thing that we did not have were drive thru’s and junk food other than small bags of plain pretzels or chips, maybe a Hershey’s bar from the campus store. Oh, many of us smoked. But that’s another story.
The workout craze began, as I remember, as a response to those movies like ‘Xanadu”, ‘Let’s Get Physical’, Jane Fonda’s Workout tapes,and ‘Flash Dance’. An Australian Bodyworks opened up near my apartment and the opportunity to wear a headband and leg warmers made the cool factor go way up. Losing weight? WTF? This was for fun and fashion! I lived in town in Atlanta, we would go to the park and walk–not to lose weight, but to meet guys for god’s sake!
When I turned 40 one of my friends gave me a leopard thong. At that time they were still novelties. I hung it on the front of my two thousand dollar treadmill to get me motivated. 10 plus years later it’s still there and that treadmill makes a helluva clothes dryer.
Now, it’s all my friends talk about. Go to the gym. Walk the neighborhood. Lose weight. Hell, even on BlogHer today there is a blue jeans review for plus sized jeans–that’s size 12 and up, girlfriends. I am over it. I have paid for memberships at Australian, Curves, World Gyms, Gold’s, LA Fitness, Lifetime, and Bally. I never stuck with them. Maybe because I was supposed to go, not because I wanted to go.
I feel like such a toad walking into those places. I don’t wear makeup because I sweat lots. Even before the flashes started I sweat like a pig. And I truly HATE to sweat. Southern women in the 1800’s called it the vapors. Well, this southern girl ain’t gonna ruin her pearls by getting the vapors if she doesn’t have to.
I want to get healthy and I want to lose weight. But I am not going to pay a gym a monthly fee and dread every moment I go there. Paying for low self esteem when you walk in the door to those places is not my idea of motivation.
I bet if I can the drive thru’s, eat at home, drink my 7 & 7, and make some fried chicken made from scratch, I bet I’ll be happier. And maybe skinnier…..