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Thursday, January 27, 2011
I have a confession: I hate exercising. It hasn't really been a problem up until now. I've always had a quick eye roll at the ready for the lifers of the gym, the ones whose rippling biceps were the size of Rhode Island. It seemed like such a practice in vanity to me, and I was determined not to get involved. The irony that I said all this while having a flat stomach and little body fat was completely lost on me. Fast forward five years. The process of getting ready now includes finding a pair of jeans I can actually fit into, or at least clasp the button. I stubbornly refuse to buy a larger pair of pants. It's like I want to believe that, magically, the weight will melt off or somehow redistribute itself in my sleep. And in the meantime, I am biding my time. I wouldn't consider myself overweight, for once I am actually at a healthy weight, but I am desperately out of shape. I have what some have affectionately referred to as a muffin top, and it basically drives me insane. Of course, the practical approach would include getting involved in an exercise regimen and monitoring my diet. But, in case we haven't met yet, I'm anything but practical. That isn't to say, I haven't had good intentions - I've started cooking at home more. Instead of indulging in truffle macaroni and cheese, I'm preparing organic kale salad with naval oranges and walnuts. It's one of the few concessions I have been able to incorporate into my life on a regular basis. The exercise routine still remains a struggle. Mind you, at the height of my battle with depression, I used exercise as an outlet to purge all the angst frothing to the surface. I ran about six days a week for an hour or more - with weights. I had lost so much weight at that time I was put on calorie drinks just to keep up with what I was losing. My cardiovascular system was in the best shape but the rest of me wasn't doing so well. So I stopped. And picking up that particular torch has not been easy. Yesterday, I unrolled the yoga mat and popped in a disc and got about 10 minutes into the routine, barely enough time to warm-up before I abandoned the project. There is some inner resistance that I need to pinpoint and overcome. It's a humbling experience, to be on the other side of the struggle with weight. Before, I couldn't manage to keep a pound on, now it feels like I have too many. A bit of a goldilocks dilemma. But, it isn't so much the weight itself, like I said, I'm at a really healthy weight for the first time, it's just about toning and being active at this point. But it's still weird to have to think about these things for the first time in my life. What I am lacking is motivation, at least when it comes time to sit down and devote an hour to a yoga routine. I have plenty of motivation when I am at my wits end with trying to hide my stomach underneath a sweater or sucking my stomach in until I am nearly out of breath. It's completely obscene. I suppose a lot of it has to do with re-imagining myself as a different person, in this case physically different. A person who has, up until now, been completely foreign to me. It's about reconciling the me I strove so hard to get back to and the me I am today and trying to work through the dissonance between the two. Or maybe, just maybe, I should just find some way to get through an hour yoga set and let the rest sort itself out. |
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Keeper of Bees
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