Getting my exercise

We have an exercise room, and we do use it, sporadically. One of us gets The Bug, and we exercise every day for, oh, let's say two months. Then, we begin to fall off our regime until the next time. I bet the same thing happens to you sometimes, doesn't it? Well, our exercise room has had an old and fading carpet since we moved in more than twenty years ago. We've talked about changing it, but nothing came of that particular plan other than adding equipment. So, guess what, Angela got "The Bug." No, not to exercise, but to change the carpet. We're also in the midst of working in the garden, replanting grass on our two acres and doing lots of weeding (my elbow injury let the wild things grow for a couple weeks, and we got behind). Evidently, she felt we didn't have enough on To Do lists, so she asked for my help. Usually, my help means "hand me this, bring me that, &/or hold this." That is not what needing my help meant this time. We had to get all of that heavy equipment out of the room. Let me emphasis the word heavy. The bicycle was no problem, even the stepper wasn't too bad, but the darn treadmill was quite a challenge. You see, I may have pointed this out before, but Angela doesn't have the same strength she used to have as a man because she is a woman now -- duh! I'm just going to say it was a bitch, okay? Sorry for those of you who said, "No." Anyway, even that paled next to the Universal Gym. Taking it apart, well part of it anyway, lead to two backaches, two strained shoulders, and a couple bruises in unusual places. Moving, even the pieces, was heavy work.

The carpet came up easily, even the tiles lifted right out, but the linoleum under that was less enjoyable, and see a prior post to understand what I think about taking the glue off. Damn, it was a beast, and Angela did most of that, this time. Next came the Pergo wood floor. Outside of a few blue words, we got it in in under a day. Well, except for the small/tiny bathroom, which Angela did all by herself. That was a mistake as that little project resulted in several trips to the nurse's station in one of our bathrooms for hydrogen peroxide, bacitracin, and a variety of band-aids and gauze patches. We moved all the equipment back in, oh, my pulled/strained muscles, bruises, and promises to never do this again.

But, the last thing to be returned to the room was my Star Trek display cabinet. So, I got to go through keepsakes again, and that was more fun than I can tell you. Yes, I boxed up a few things, but most of it is still in the cabinet. I hope it doesn't take another change-of-the-carpet for me to go through it all again, but I'll enjoy the new arrangement/display until the next time.

I guess I was getting my exercise fixing up the room, but I'll soon be having to use all that equipment again -- as soon as my muscles stop complaining that is. Anyway, I'm actually glad Angela got this particular "Bug," and yep, this is another Best Thing About Being Married To A Transsexual.

Size 8! Celebrate the small victories.

What's it like to be a size eight again, after being a 16 for 5 years? It's wonderful - and it's scary. It's wonderful because it means I'm reaching a goal I set out to reach - the goal is still a size 6, but I'm getting there. It's scary because when one 's behind finally fits comfortably into a size one is proud to wear, it says 'I'm committed to not gaining it back." Okay, I cheated initially - I had help: I used Nutri-system instead of counting calories and exercising. It worked though, and I'm a walking advertisement for them to anyone who asks. Now, I am trying to do it on my own, and that is a LOT harder. The holidays aren't helping. Understatement, huh? The holidays make it harder because it's difficult to say "No," to the fattening lunch out when one's shopping. It's harder to say "No," when all your friends are trying the latest dessert sensation when you meet for a holiday brunch. It's nearly impossible to say "No," at a party. Oh, I can stay out of the hors-d'ouvres, and I can stay away from the all-you-can-eat-buffet line, but when it's served on your plate, at a sit down dinner, with dessert staring at you all the way through the meal - that's tough. But, if you keep that size 6 in mind, and if you remember how good it felt to put your hiney into that size 8 even, it's a lot easier. In short, celebrate the small victories.