A Disdain of Exercise

I dreadfully disdain exercise.

I adore writing, but I abhor diagramming sentences.  I like playing around on the piano, but I loathe practicing.  I delight in a brisk walk, but I detest exercising for the sake of exercise.

I grew up with the country girl mentality that gym-style exercise was unnecessary for any man who had wood to chop, any woman who had a child to carry.

I remember instructing my young cousins Jennifer and Lindy in the art of being a lady: walk around with your shoulders back and your stomach sucked in, and always wait by the door giving boys the opportunity to be gentlemen (“and say ‘thank you, sir’ when they are!”).

I still wait by doors.  But somewhere between my first bout with morning sickness and my first pair of stretch maternity pants, I quit holding in my stomach muscles.  And they have never been the same since.

A month before our second daughter was born, the July 2009 issue of Parenting showed up in our mailbox.  (You know, the “free” trial of Parenting that Motherhood Maternity offers, which ends up showing up on your credit card, because you never got the cancel slip, and “oh, didn’t the store explain that you were authorizing them to share your credit card number with us?”)  My husband suggested we keep that issue, pointing to the cover article: “5 Moves for a Hot Mom Bod.”

That magazine kept showing up on top of the stack the last six months.  My two-year-old loves paging through looking at pictures of babies, finding the advertisement for her gummy bear vitamins, pointing out the car seat that is just like little sister’s.  And, of course, each time I see her looking at Parenting I’m reminded that this parent needs to try those 5 moves.

It’s just that I can’t stand to exercise.  Not to mention there are half a zillion other things that need done around here.

Enter the “Losing It” contest.  I knew it would be the motivation I needed to actually dig through the magazines and find that issue of Parenting again.  This time I tore out pages 59 through 63.  I laid them on the carpet in front of me.  And one by one, I tried those exercises, that were accompanied by the guarantee: “get a gorgeous bod, no gym needed!”

My husband found me face-down on the floor after the first push-up style exercise.  And he laughed.

But a week later?  He says I’m already skinnier.  I think he is just trying to encourage me.  After all, I’ve only gotten through all five moves a couple different times, and definitely not very many repetitions of each.  (Especially since page 60 apparently escaped back into my two-year-old’s stack of papers, and I can’t find it anywhere.  The other three pages are now safely stuck in page protectors.)

For me, any exercise is progress.  I’m not exactly loving it.  But maybe after 10 weeks it will at least be a habit, if not an enjoyable one.  And oh yes, I’ve been walking around with my stomach muscles sucked in, too.  I can feel my pants fitting better already.