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Being Healthy is Inconvenient (AND Sometimes Painful)

September 9, 2009

     I have finally figured out my aversion to exercise and being healthy. It’s a complete pain in the ass, often literally. In my case, it’s more my inner calves that feel as though they are being ripped apart.

      Due to my utter lack of knowledge in the exercise department and my desire to only spend money on cute (otherwise known as crazy high and sparkly) shoes, I decided that I could just pick up some Champion running shoes from good old Tar-gey along with groceries and trash magazines. I may have mentioned this before, but a few days into boot camp, I was dying. My inner calves literally felt as though they were being put thru a paper shredder and subsequently set on fire. Pleasant, no?

       For a brief moment, I was willing to accept that this was my body’s way of telling me how much happier said body is when I’ve fried it, lounged about watching bad TV and reading, worn impossible shoes, and occasionally thrown cocktails in it. In short, my body was rejecting my attempts at health and practical shoes. I then remembered WHY I was getting healthy, other than my promise to my doctor in order to get him off my case. I realized that bratchild would probably be incredibly disappointed if I did not live until 90 or so, therefore allowing her to change MY diapers  and wrestle a bedazzler out of my hand every chance she could. I also recalled how absolutely devastated J would be if I were to expire before him, although my demise would free up considerable time for playing Xbox. So I feel confident saying his grief would, probably, be short lived.

      Having found my motivation, I hobbled into old Fleet Feet where a very nice young man proceeded to inform me I needed to get on a treadmill. And run. In public. AND that they would video this. I quit going to a gym due to my tendency to fall backwards off the treadmill. Did I mention I was wearing an Ann Taylor summer tweed and rather fitted skirt? I was all set to hop up there in my flip flops before he grabbed me and explained they had shoes for us to wear. Mild bout of panic ensued, if I was wearing them-that meant other people had. Fortunately, I had expected something as dastardly as this and had come prepared with my own socks-which I was not allowed to wear. They provided special (read used) socks. A minor skirmish occurred during which there may or may not have been some slight tug o’ war involving socks and his repeated assertions that the socks were clean. Knowing I was beat, I relented, did the whole running (in used socks and shoes) and waited while he went to find my perfect pair. Of course by the time he returned, I had my own suggestions of which I found “not hideous” which prompted a reply of those being kids’ shoes.

     Eventually, we narrowed it down to two pairs plus some insanely high arch supports. As we were trying to decide which fit better, I told him one pair was better as they were a little bit shiny which was ALMOST as good as sparkly. Confused about to death, the boy probed further wanting to know which felt better. I couldn’t really tell him a difference, which seemed to hurt his feelings, but did explain that in addition to being almost sparkly, this particular pair also had the added bonus of not making my feet look fat. Which they are not, but this seems to be a common side effect with athletic gear in general-it’s just not flattering. (Case in point? Bike shorts. Enough said.)

            Since I have given up the tanning bed (uterus fryer as my mother calls it) I have had to find other ways in which to keep my transparent skin colored as to make my fat happy. I’m sort of okay with this nivea firming/coloring lotion-it doesn’t smell like a chemical plant or have enough sparkles to make me look like a disco ball or stripper. Or a stripper under a disco ball. This pleases me. For some reason, it seems like the most involved thing EVER to slather this concoction on my skin daily. In my mind, I know this is way less time consuming then trips to the tanning bed. Even at the tanning bed, I doused my body with accelerator lotions (which to me is sort of like putting tin foil in the microwave-eventful and good in theory but not necessarily a safe idea). So I’ve basically removed like 23 steps from the process and it STILL seems harder. I am mole-y by nature so this alleviates that issue as well. I bought this micro-mist airbrush in a can stuff but I can’t convince my hubby to come in and spray me with it. For some reason, he thinks it will end badly and he will be blamed.

      And this whole healthy eating thing? There is a REASON America has a weight problem-it is easier to be fat and lazy. I mean, you can get people to bring you cooked dead animals and things covered in cheese while you lounge around in your underwear. For their sake, I hope you don’t answer the door that way. I spent 2 hours at Kroger after the first week of boot camp. My husband thought I’d been run over by an old man in a rascal or kidnapped by the scary bagger. I was practically reduced to tears trying to select bread.  Joe, I totally think there should be a grocery shopping field trip in addition to the nutrition seminar. You should also try to locate an actual pound of fat and bring it in for show and tell-that would be some harsh motivation. Just some ideas…

     I’ve also been drinking water. An obscene amount of water. I realize this benefits my skin and kidneys and everything else but my bladder is not pleased with this new development. Water causes a constant need for urination. My hubby walked by the bathroom one day. I peed, wiped, stood up, pulled up my pants, seemingly made a funny face, and then decided I still needed to pee. The record for max reps of this process during a single visit currently stands at 6. He particularly enjoys it when we are on a road trip and about 5 minutes after we last stopped, I decide we need to stop again. This past weekend elicited a ban on bringing any more bottles of water into the car.  He reasoned that what should be a 7 hour drive shouldn’t turn into one in which we could, in theory, drive to Alaska. And back. In the RV.

     Only two days left in boot camp and today was the day that finally broke me…oh the horrors. Today was “football day” which meant we had to wear mesh jerseys. I’m almost positive somewhere along the line I mentioned my issue with mesh clothing, I abhor it. Combine that with my distaste for wearing things other people have worn and you pretty much have my personal third circle of hell. All I could think was if I was sweating like a wildebeest in this ensemble, than other people had as well. Between that and the random counting and yelling of “hike”, it’s a wonder I didn’t collapse and convulse in the fetal position. Our fearless leader, who should maybe have a little more fear :), seemed to find this hilarious.

     Since my hubby has inconveniently decided to take off for Iraq in these early stages of my get healthy campaign (the poor man probably thinks he’ll get more to eat over there) I am going to attempt to do 1 day a week this next go round just to keep my hand in, so to speak. Bratchild was not enchanted with the idea of getting up at 5am and watching me workout so that didn’t leave me very many options. If you are not a stalker and would enjoy a good workout as well as some entertainment (that would be me) you can sign up here:

      Maybe the next four weeks will find me not constantly in dire need of a bathroom, able to grocery shop without crying, and having finally figured out a simple way to not have my cellulite glow under a black light.

     Since I know there are folks out there that won’t believe I donned mesh (like my hubby, who doesn’t read my blogs since he thinks they are about him) I have decided to include a photo as proof. Much like the last blog where there was a photo of me in a canoe.

Amy jersey

© Amy Lloyd Mayfield and Amy’s Blam, 2009. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Amy Lloyd Mayfield and Amy’s Blam with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
3 Comments leave one →
  1. betsy permalink
    September 10, 2009 11:52 AM

    you seriously crack me up!

  2. amyblam permalink
    September 10, 2009 8:05 PM

    So after I posted my blog, my boot camp instructor sent out an email and this was part of it, it made me laugh:

    Big props to Amy Mayfield too for overcoming her fear of mesh, coordinated outfits, and team sports. Seriously, that’s real. You should read her blog some time, it is hilarious and disturbing. It is located at

  3. Super Barn permalink
    September 13, 2009 10:00 PM

    Amy that was hilarious. You have some writing talent. Have fun with the boot camp.

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