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Destinations, Dreams and Dogs - International adventure with a fast-track family (& dogs) of Old World values, adopting the Russian-Italian-American good life on the go…!

From Couch Potato to Tater Tot: Downsizing My Derriere

Well, make that computer potato, instead of couch potato, since my behind doesn’t see the couch very much.  Sitting at the computer for hours every day, engaging in work, play, and managing my world empires, this potatoey popa has spread beyond its normal boundaries.  It’s time to downscale:  from computer potato… to petite tater tot.

Unfortunately, this will require some effort on my part.  A distinct problem with limited time.  If I’m not chauffering the kids to their activities, then I’m cooking to feed them when the hordes descend at the next meal.  Inbetween, I get to do my stuff.  Which is work.

I have no time for play.  Mind you, I used to have a life.  I probably can’t blame it all on the kids, but the timelines do coincide in a slightly mysterious and matching way.  I used to jog, and play sports, and keep myself rather trim.  Now it’s middle-aged spread, and I’m not referring to an alternative for butter.

So how to downsize?  How to whittle down the derriere, and for that matter, all points fore and aft?

I must start to move.  The occasional exercise DVD is interrupted by barking dogs and demanding kids.  And although I would love to exercise in my own private gym, on my own private island, that’s not going to happen.  So the french fries will be joining the couch potato for our early-morning death march.

At the dacha, we head to the beach.  There’s a wooden walkway across the sea oats toward the dunes.  Leaving the wooden planks, and crossing the first miniscule hills of deep, loose sand, I feel my legs contort as I sink lower and lower.  Quicksand.  Add to that, of course, that it’s low tide, making what could be a pleasant, leisurely stroll, into a mega-marathon strain, pain, and drain.

“I’m done,” I declare, panting to Benedetto who presses ahead, dragging me at ramming-speed pace.  I wonder about the likelihood of him having a heart attack, too, and us leaving four orphaned children behind.

It’s only the crack of dawn and the temperature hovers around 100 degrees.  I am dressed in my beach burqa, black from head to toe.  The sun will not dare to smite me.  Sweat, however, is a different matter.

Thirty minutes later, I am a sweaty rag and have to hop in the shower and start my day from scratch—dress, hair, makeup.  It could be worse:  I might be in a gym locker room.

But I realize that I must supplement these brief forays with other beefed-up routines.  That’s when I face my second challenge:  I am Play-Clothes Challenged.  The last time I was on the tennis court, one of the directors suggested that my footwear was not appropriate.  In my opinion, I thought they were fairly tennis shoe-like.

“It’s not as though I’m wearing heels, or anything,” I muttered under my breath to my partner.  “They have to understand I’m really stretching here….”

So I would need to check into chunky white tennis shoes and mumu-wear for motherly jock-wannabes.  I mean, how is a woman supposed to get into shape if all of the clothes make her look like a Blimpie-burger?  I go to my closet, where I have two or three outfits from earlier good-intentioned eras, each looking worse on me than the next.  Lycra can be very unforgiving.

I try to think of sports where one could possibly sport a long, flowing, caftan….  None spring to mind.  Maybe I should start one.  Shuffleboard?  Not too aerobic.  About the only possibility that comes to my consciousness is belly-dancing, because nobody needs to actually see the shimmying, blubber belly to accomplish the exercise, right?

The only other exercise would be Tai Chi Chuan, the slow-motion Chinese movements.  Their practitioners seem fairly covered-up.  But I become bogged-down in reading about the Wu or Yang points of view, and can only imagine becoming further bogged-down in my burqa, moving so slowly that I may topple over and scare the serene and slow-mo students surrounding me.

If it’s not the scheduling, it’ the lack of play clothes; if it’s not the play clothes, it’s the hot and humid weather.  For now, I feel like sticking to some mean isometrics while lying in bed, but gotta press beyond.  No more excuses.

Wanna join me in my new resolution to get up and go?

 

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7 Comments : Leave a Reply

  1. avatar matryoshka wendy says:

    I actually managed what MIGHT be called a very slow jog on the treadmill yesterday while Jupiter was in her martial arts (which we discovered yesterday, is taught by the therapeutic riding instructor’s father) class. I hear really good things about the couch to 5-k program. But I can attest that it doesn’t work if you’re trying to jog around a very small bedroom after bedtime.

  2. wait. I meant living room. Either way.

    • avatar admin says:

      Bedroom, living room, I’ve exercised in the bathroom, Wendy-! I might make my mark on the 1/2-k one day, or maybe it looks better if we say .5-k. Could be a new Olympic category.

  3. avatar Kathleen says:

    I really need to join you. Of course, there are so many things I need to do. Motivation seems to be a factor here 🙂

  4. avatar Wrenn says:

    I’m in! Although in the summer I feel like the half mile walks from the parking deck into work count as something, then there are ther stairs if the elevator is packed… come to think of it, I’m good for now lol, but let me know how its going!! 🙂

    • avatar admin says:

      Well, Wrenn, I’ve committed to getting out there, as they say, and Benedetto even bought some sneakers, so that’s a start. My first day out, other than losing 25 pounds from pure perspiration, caused me to go into near-traction the next day. The song, “I’m a Survivor” has taken on new meaning…. I am moving from computer couch potato into one sculpted, scalloped potato-!

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