Exercising, as many of you know, is not high on my list of fun activities to do during the week.
So, when medical professionals politely (but strongly) suggested to me and my Buddha Belly that we needed to start a daily exercise routine of some kind, I acquiesced and decided that walking would be a better alternative to, say, belly dancing for Seniors with Miss Bedelia on Wednesdays, or wheelchair racing for crusty curmudgeons with Mr. Karl on Thursdays.
After all, I still have one working knee left and one foot that, for all practical purposes, is able to fit in my shoe with only one orthotic and a little coaxing from my trusty Mickey Mouse shoehorn.
And walking, unlike other activities, is free, can be done most anywhere (including a mall), requires no special equipment, requires neither the companionship of man nor beast, and is truly good “therapy” for both mind and body.
So why do I (Miss Buddha Belly herself) hate it so much?
I don’t seem to mind snarfing down those extra helpings of rigatoni and garlic bread, and I haven’t seen anyone twisting my arm lately to eat the See’s candy that I somehow need after inhaling said plate of pasta; so what, pray tell, bothers me so much about taking my daily, neighborhood walk today?
It wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that I’ve got the Bermuda Triangle on my face in the form of two chin zits and a cold sore on my upper lip the size of all Texas, now would it?
Or could it possibly be that when I’m not in a blue rubber rain suit and barn boots, I’m wearing a pair of ratty sweatpants decorated with paint stains and an old college sweatshirt that is badly in need of a recycle bin? Most everyone else I run into while walking in the morning look like they’re straight outta the “Stepford Wives” and quite stylin’ in their Spandex and Nike running shoes.
(And yes, People, I’ve tried to look stylish myself, don’t ’cha know, but Nike doesn’t make a running shoe that accommodates old lady orthotics. And Spandex IS NOT meant for those of us sportin’ Buddha Bellies or post-menopausal buttocks. I’m not saying there aren’t those among us who haven’t shared that little look with others, just saying, “I’m not one of those women who wants my belly, booty and bazoomas bouncing around in Spandex for every Tom, Dick and Harry to see, ya know?”)
I might have the occasional dental drool crusted on the front of my shirt or a lotion goober or two glued on my pant leg, and maybe even a little nose snot escaped on my lip every once in a blue moon, but damn, I draw the line when it comes to flappin’ bellies and bubble butts in under-sized Spandex!
A girl’s gotta have a modicum of modesty and humility, ya know?
I may be old and a tad fluffy in the midriff area, but far be it for anyone to tell me that my Spandex-enclosed belly or buttocks is offending anyone!
(It’s not a site my neighbors are going to be seeing anytime too soon. I’ve already got a reputation for being a bit of a “character.” I sure as heck don’t need “Spandex Buddha – Momma” to be added to my list of otherwise colorful descriptions, thank you very much!)
Geesch.
Anyhow, I’m really disgusted with the fact that I’ve got this ugly, monstrous cold sore in the middle of my upper lip, and I’m asking God how the hell I (a verifiable Ross Dept. store Senior citizen) got not one, but TWO ample-sized zits on my chin, when I look up to see one of my “Stepford Wife” neighbors carrying one of those white plastic, 10-gallon kitchen bags (the kind many of us use for our kitchen trash bin) to use for her dainty, little 3 lb. Yorky.
And it hits me!
I’m not the only one outta my bubble this morning who’s lookin’ a tad silly.
At least I’m not walking around the neighborhood with a big ass 10-gallon plastic bag flapping in the breeze to pick up little “Fifi’s” poo!
Thank you, Lord! I needed that moment of silliness.
Think I’ll stick with my Bermuda Triangle of zits and cold sores today, thank you very much.
Go out and have a grand day today, People! And remember: Life in our shoes may not always be easy, but if we take the time to look (really hard!), it’s usually silly…Catch ya next week for another adventure looking at life in my shoes.
Life in Lucie's Shoes 