New year, new addiction

Inspired by the New Year's resolutions of my friends and family members, I decided to join the ranks of the physically fit and begin to exercise.

No. No one will buy that.

After reading an article on the increasingly sedentary lifestyle of Americans leading to pandemic obesity and the related health risks, I've taken an interest in the well being of my body.

I can hear you laughing.

I grow weary of a life full of snack food, booze and TV and long to fill the void with physical activity.

Fine.

I recently bought a pencil skirt from Gap.com. I tried it on a few days ago and was displeased with what I saw in the mirror. It came to my attention that my waist is at least a size smaller than my hips/ass region meaning that though the waistband needs a drawstring, I'm still forced to take little, shuffling Geisha steps to avoid splitting the skirt down the back. Now, I'm quite happy with my body in all its Rubenesque glory. Loud and proud, I say! But I do take issue with the unauthorized expansion of certain body parts, especially any whose growth might be attributed to a phenomenon as wretched as "secretary spread." I don't aspire to the measurements of one of the stick bugs running about Hollywood, but I mean, a girl has her limits.

Unfortunately, I loathe exercise for the sake of exercise. I get bored in gyms, distracted during Pilates, and positively asthma-attacked on runs. I need to feel like I'm having fun but also conveniently burning off that ice cream sundae from last night. Hikes, tennis, swimming, all good things! All very difficult in the frozen tundra of a Massachusetts winter.

After struggling out of the pencil skirt, I considered this information and concluded that action must be taken despite adverse conditions. So, while Beau was still at work, I slipped into my sexiest bike-short/over sized T-shirt ensemble, dimmed the lights, and popped in a DVD: Shape Cardio: Bikini Body All Year Round. That's right. Aerobics. And, dear God, it was the best decision I've made all year.

For the first 3 minutes, I plodded along to the dance inspired sequences, feeling absolutely absurd and fearing that through some twist of fate, my uncoordinated flailing would end up on YouTube. You'll be happy to know that someone is still marketing the grapevine and yours truly is still buying it. I was about to hit stop on the choreographed seizure they call a fitness routine when the silliness kicked in.

I B-stepped and spun my way into a frenzied finish, giggling and clapping my little hands. The next evening, I got off the couch and got down with my bad self once again. When the chipper instructor complimented my hard work I thought "Yeah! Thanks! My sashays are really coming along." I'm absolutely hooked. AND IT COUNTS AS EXERCISE! I haven't gotten this much cardio since the summer in high school that I spent getting chased off the premises of an abandoned mental hospital by the cops.

Updates to come on the skirt. Go buy the DVD!