Eating naked...

I recently read an article in Women's Health magazine (Subscription to said magazine was a gift from a dear friend...in all likelihood, a feeble attempt to reform me.) It happened quite by accident. I was doing my usual - cruising through the magazine rather quickly, looking for yummy recipes and/or photos of supermodels to yell at - when I stumbled across an article about Marissa Miller. For those of you who aren't aware, she's one of the top models for Victoria's Secret. There's an interview, followed by a section on diet tricks, where Marissa shares some of her stay-slim strategies. And I quote:

"Eat naked. Eating smart is all about having an awareness of your body. The most obvious way to do that is by seeing it. So when you're trying to lose weight, spend more time wearing less. I don't think I could eat a plate of nachos naked - could you?"

My response?

Dear Marissa Miller,
I could demolish a plate of nachos inside of 3 minutes, hanging upside down from a hook on the wall, eyes closed, using no hands. Whether or not I'm wearing clothes would not even factor into the equation. The only thing that would stop me from doing this is the therapy sessions that would be required for my family after witnessing this horrific event. Having said that, if I had a body like yours, I would trot around naked all day. Mostly because I wouldn't be able to stop staring at myself. I would likely park myself in front of a full length mirror and just stare at myself and eat nachos. Yes, if I looked like you, I would eat naked. Hell, I would run to the grocery store naked.

Sincerely, Janita (OK, I lie. I wouldn't run.)

The article went on to describe some exercise tips but I've long since forgotten them all...I was too busy laughing to focus. I do need to start exercising, though, of this I'm aware. I was going to title this post: "How to incorporate exercise into your daily routine..." My husband walked by and saw that title, snorted really loudly, then politely suggested I stick to writing about what I know...more on his numerous disorders later.

Simply put, I don’t exercise. Regularly. I've had many of false starts on various regimes. I last about 3 - 4 days, just to the point where I can't lift my arms to get my bra on, then I stop. Sadly, I’m not even a big fan of walking. I can safely blame my parents for this one. Growing up on the farm, they frowned upon any sort of frivolous behaviour, including the act of walking just for fun. That would have been considered a pointless waste of time and energy. When I was a teenager, there was nothing cooler than strapping on your Walkman and a pair of velour shorts to go power-walking down the main highway with some friends. When I would ask my Dad if I could go, his response typically didn’t vary from the following:

Dad: “Where are you walking to, exactly?”
Me: “To town and back.”
Dad: “What for?”
Me: “To hang out with my friends and get some exercise.”
Dad: “I don’t think that’s a very smart idea.”
Me: “Why not? It’s not like anything’s going to happen to us! It’s just a few miles away, and we’ll be back before dark. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

At this point, my heart would swell with love and gratitude; I was overwhelmed that my Dad was so worried about my safety.

Dad: “Oh, I’m not worried about that. What I am worried about is your ability to waste time. If you want to get some exercise, why don’t you strap yourself to the back of that push-mower, and power-walk your way over to those grain bins out back and clean up that long grass? You didn’t get around to it last week.”

What? Didn’t get around to it? And deliberately miss out on all that fun? Crazy cat. Who in their right mind would pass up the chance to wander perilously through waist-high grass and randomly chop up snakes and mice with a mower blade? Why on earth would I forget to do that? You can’t put a dollar on that type of fun.

To this day, I blame (well, credit really…) my Dad for my lack of a gym membership. After all, who in their right mind would walk, or worse yet, run, just for the hell of it?  I'll admit, over the years, I have come to see the benefits of exercise and why it’s necessary - it can help protect you from premature heart disease and stroke, diabetes, obesity and yes, it can even help improve your overall mood, that is, once you get past the actual pain, sweating, swearing and panting. Yes my friends, I get why it’s important and I will eventually whip myself into shape. Odds are much better that I’ll whip myself into cardiac arrest, but hey, at least I’ll go out trying. My first thought was to start small and find exercise books written for people like me, the exercise impaired. Recently, I found a book that explains things in a great amount of detail; for the one-arm triceps extension, it instructs you to find a sturdy chair, put your feet flat on the ground and then hold a dumbbell in one hand over your head with your palm facing in and your elbow and wrist directly above your shoulder. And just when you’re about to lose heart because you’re so confused as to what arm is supposed to be doing what, and where the weight should even be, you read on: ”…slowly lower the weight behind you, taking care not to hit yourself in the head with it.” It's moments like these that make me smile...some people are indeed worse off than me.

Up next? Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred...I've had several false starts but this time, my husband's doing it with me. I'm not sure if this is a good idea because he's actually fit. I'll want to punch him in the face. But hey, I'm up for trying anything at this point. Our goal is to do it 30 days in a row. Some may think the title, 30-day shred, was self-explanatory. I was all for spreading those 30 days out over a 6-month period (then demanding a refund when it didn't work).

Stay tuned, ear to the ground, for a full report. Better yet, hold one of those conch shells up to your ear - not only will you hear the sound of the ocean, you'll also hear the sound of a grown woman crying.