Who do I think I'm kidding?

As I sit in my soft, extra padded office chair I wonder: how did my soft, extra  padded bottom get so wide that it now spreads to the edge of my seat?

I raised my shirt to see about an itch on my stomach. I looked down and wondered whose gut was on display. I thought I only had wrinkles on my face! I rushed to the full length mirror and shivered in fright at the gut gulleys that will soon fill in with flab. I tried to straighten up and stretch my torso taut.

Who am I kidding? I may as well wait for the filler. It's not like spritzing a T shirt and stretching the material to reshape it. Reaching overhead did raise a couple of questions. Do I really need a new bra with heavy duty straps, or do I just need to improve my posture? Instead of "Writer, Butt-In-Chair", maybe I need to get my butt out and jazz it up. Not gussy it up, jazz around the house, move it like a sugared up preschooler. Goodness knows I eat enough sugar.

I'm anticipating the Olympics since the Super Bowl was such a flop. I thought of my high school senior year. I was physically fit. My bottom fit into a size 10 (for twenty-five subsequent years) and I could "haul ass" as kids used to say. Although, as someone I know playfully says, it would probably take two trips these days.

He isn't funny. Don't laugh!

Seriously, although I was fit, I failed the Presidential Physical Fitness test, because even if my life depended on it, I could not do a push up or climb a rope. But I could do sit ups in time to chewing bubble gum. I outpaced everyone. I hated running and couldn't toss a ball to first base, but you should have seen my long jump...even though it ended as a face plant.

The P.E. activity I liked most was the stationary horses and parallel bars. I could run, mount, swing my legs up and over, hover. I had tight buns, abs of steel and imaginary boobs. As I walked down the hallowed halls to the new gymnasium for the last time, I wondered if I could retain my figure without the fitness props. How long would it be before my body betrayed me?

I'm here to tell you, it's been a slow betrayal, but the day has come. My hiney is hefty, my boobs are heavy, and SNOW, mucho snow is on the way. I will get my butt out of this chair, and I'll probably end up under a cozy blanket on the couch if tomorrow is a school snow day.

If this weather ever clears, I vow to get my gluteus maximus up and shake a tail feather. Oh how I used to love to dance to that song!

   

Wii Fit

My husband bought a Wii Fit game with a goofy cartoon kid.
Going to get himself in shape he says, so this is what he did.
He worked for half an hour hooking up the silly thing
said it would be worth it for the results that it would bring.

Thirty minutes every morning he twists, moves and wiggles.
I have to walk away from him and stifle all my giggles.
He jogs in place and follows trails, high steps on the pad.
My husband’s having more fun these days than he has ever had.

You should see him hold a yoga pose, like a flamingo with no grace.
He gives it all he’s got though until he’s bright red in the face.
“Step on he dares; don’t snicker!” So I tried that sissy game.
Kid stuff, I thought, I’ll show him, put this big guy to shame.

When I stepped on the pad, it groaned my weight and BMI
Those numbers made me cringe, and I tried hard not to cry.
“You want to paddle a canoe?” he asked, “It’s harder than you think.”
“No,” I said, “I’ll hula hoop,” and I gave him a little wink.

“Lean left” he yelled, “move your body; catch it over your head.”
If those had been real hula hoops, I swear I would be dead.
“I quit!” I said. “Aw honey,” he begged, “come back for one more game.”
I gave it my best and wouldn’t you know, I made the Bowling Hall of Fame.

My husband’s weight is going down; he’s losing pounds with exercise.
I haven’t lost a single pound, and I’ve still got my thunder thighs.
He exercises every day, knows how to balance, bend and squat.
He’s firming up and getting fit, but his chubby wife is not!