When I was young, I mean younger.....oh heck, when I was a teenager I thought I would not live to be 30 let alone 50.
The year 2000 loomed out there in the future, in space. It seemed mind boggling and insane that I would be older than my parents if I lived to the year 2000. They were old and decrepit. Antiquated. Teetering on feeble. They were 39 and 47.
I contemplated life a lot back them. After all, I was a moody teenager with plenty of time on my hands because I avoided homework like the plague. So, I day dreamed and contemplated life a lot.
Now it is well into the year 2006 and I am totally amazed that I have survived to this ripe old age. God knows I tried to sabotage it by living life dangerously and precariously at times. With careless abandon most the time. Who was it that said if they knew they were going to live this long they would have taken better care of themselves? Micky Mantle?
I contemplate life still as I pump it out on the machines at the Fitness Center Joe and I joined several months ago. I have not taken it seriously until the new year. After all, what use is it to try and deny yourself when the holidays are advancing. If I had started then, I would have messed it up immediately. So I waited. I made the occasional trip to the center to acquaint myself with the clientele and where everything is located. I am happy to report, the clientele is cool, mostly out of shape middle age chumps like myself.
I think I may be committed to loosing the excess weight and toning up. The great upside...besides all that stuff about health and vitality......is the fabulous wardrobe I have that I no longer fit in. It's waiting for me!
The other night I looked at myself in one of the many mirrors in the downstairs aerobic room. "Those arms are not mine!!!!!!" I was mortified. I am also mortified at the size of my boobs! They now have a zip code of their own. They pop out of my bra's when I lean over. It is so embarrassing. I play with my bra and my underwires as much as any major league pitcher plays with his cup. It is becoming a habit. A very unbecoming habit! They pop out a lot.
I am concentrating on using the machines that work my upper body with the hopes that my arms stop flapping in the breeze and my boobs come under control.
Yesterday morning I awoke and immediately knew something was wrong. My right arm would not move. It was frozen into a broken bird wing sort of position. It hurt all day long. Joe made fun of me last night because try as I may, I could not stretch my arm out straight without writhing in pain. ( a little over the top acting is fun sometimes).
Getting back into shape is hard. I should have listened to Micky.
(What am I saying? Micky Mantle?!! What is up with all this baseball imagery?)