Roll your eyes and mutter, “Here we go again” before you even start reading this post. This is post #137 about exercise and weight loss and how I’m really going to lose weight this time. Seriously people, that’s why I don’t properly tag every blog entry with topics. Who wants to be reminded of what a failure they are? Definitely not me.
We have this new outlet mall a mere 20 minutes from my house. There are fancy stores like Ann Taylor, White House Black Market, Saks 5th Avenue… and many of them have super cute clothes. However, I’m so embarrassed by the sight of myself in a mirror and the size of my fat ass that I refuse to buy myself anything new until I’m a more reasonable size. My dream is to buy a pair of size 10 jeans that are bedazzled with gems and shit. I tried to search for a picture of the jeans I dream of, but I can’t find any that have enough junk on them. I may need to buy a Bedazzler too. Nothing wrong with being a tacky broad. In fact, I embrace my tackiness.
In post 136 about exercising, I talked about how I really wanted to start running. I made an honest effort to start.
First, I bought these super cute shoes.
Cute, right? Shannon and I had a discussion about them. I had forgotten that in the Midwest, anything sneaker-ish is referred to as “tennis shoes.” However, we tight-ass New Englanders know that tennis shoes are shoes that one plays tennis in only. We are a very proper people. So those pink bad boys are my running shoes.
Then, I brought a sports bra… or ten, and maybe tried on DOZENS. If you’ve been shopping lately in my neck of the woods and come across a crazy lady in a dressing room, jumping up and down, that would be me. It’s called test driving a sports bra. None of them work. My next option is to buy one online and see how that holds up. After that, I may try wearing two… or simply making my own with duct tape and ace bandages.
And oh yes, the point of this post. Losing weight and exercising… So yeah, we’ve been going out walks with the dogs on a regular basis. It’s really a great way to have time with the girls with no interruptions. We don’t bring cell phones, iPods, anything electronic. We just walk (or they ride bikes) and chit chat…
I had talked to Sugar in the beginning of the summer (before becoming completely frustrated by the lack of good running bras for big chested gals) about this running program I had found online (http://www.coolrunning.com/engine/2/2_3/index.shtml) and wanted to do. I know I’m not coordinated enough to run a stopwatch and run at the same time and Sugar happily volunteered to help me out.
Obviously, we’ve not been doing that program, but WALKING COUNTS TOO!! Sugar really is a spectacular nag. She nags me all the time about going for walks. Since we’ve actually been doing that, she’s now on my case about the running gig.
Last night, she and I were walking with the dogs and Spice was on her bicycle. She rides twice as far as we walk because she races ahead, then comes flying back when she misses us. As we trotted along, Sugar started in again about when we would run. I tried to explain to her that I couldn’t find a bra that was supportive enough, so she kept nagging. Finally, we reached a spot where there were no houses and a brief jog would be relatively private.
I clapped my hands over my boobs, while still holding the dog’s leash and I jogged. It felt as exhilarating as I remember running being. However, my hands weren’t enough to support the girls so my chest was in pain long before I needed to stop running because I’m old and fat.
But the best part was that Spice had no idea what we were up to as she had ridden on ahead. So there we are jogging with the three dogs when Spice got to the corner and turned around to look to see how far back we were. It was like something from a Bugs Bunny cartoon. She nearly fell off her bike and her eyes bugged out of her head. Her bike helmet seemed to lift right off her head and crash back down at an awkward tilt. She simply said, “Go Mama” and got back on her bike and rode away.
Yes, this mama CAN go, but she might have sprained a boob in the process.