By Deanna Kirk
Corsicana Daily Sun
I've shared this before, but it bears repeating. I'm a lot like my late, dear Daddy … whose idea of “working out” was a good, brisk sit.
Amen, Daddy. Me too.
However, there comes a time (i.e. menopause) when a woman has an alarming shift in her metabolism. All of a sudden, no matter what you do, how lean you eat, how little you eat, how much sleep you get — the weight just starts packing on.
Never mind that Henry Handy keeps putting jumbo Butterfingers in our vending machine. It's the time of year for Cadbury Eggs... and I have a penchant for those. Then my mother brought me two packages of Oreos while I was sick in March, both of which I felt compelled to eat to be polite... and you get the picture.
Okay, people. I have a 30th Class Reunion coming up in June.
There's only so much Spanx can accomplish. Capish?
I have realized (slowly) that this weight is not coming off unless I do something drastic.
And by that I mean exercise.
I am lamenting my woes of weight gain to Camp Gladiator Lea the other day when she sent me a column for May Explore about losing belly fat (who told her?) and she told me to come up there and join CG.
I drive by the old Stewart's building every evening going home. I see 40 to 50 people out there, tan, tiny, wearing Spandex, and down on the parking lot on thin little mats with Lea talking to them through a bullhorn. One day I saw a girl dragging a big block or trunk or something behind her with a rope tied around her waist. I guarantee — if I ever got down on the parking lot on a wafer thin mat, it would take Corsicana Sign and Crane to get me back up.
Um, thank you, no, Lea. Not only do I not want the other “work outters” to see me, I dang sure don't want every driver going up and down Beaton St. to watch.
Then there are all these gyms: YMCA, Lott's, Anytime Fitness, Cross Fit, and that's not even covering all the personal trainers you can hire to put you through the paces.
Doesn't anyone offer a “Grandma Workout” around here?
So, my co-workers and I decided surely we could all drag our workout equipment up here to the paper, supplement with whatever we're short on from the Buy, Sell, Trade pages on Facebook, then make ourselves our own Grandma Gym in the old composition room here at the Planet.
Yeah, that idea is growing on me!
I feel like I practically live here anyway. You could eat your lunch at your desk, then go jump on the treadmill while you're mulling over what to write for your column (and yes, I do give thought to these!).
Frustrating customer leave you feeling tense and on edge? No problem – just go do a few miles on the stationary bike back in the Grandma Gym.
Now, if only we still had that Tammye Broom, I feel certain her entreprenuerial spirit would open a juice bar back there too …
Deanna Kirk is a Daily Sun staff writer and editor of Explore Magazine. Her column appears on Saturdays. She may be reached by firstname.lastname@example.org. Want to Soundoff on this column? Email email@example.com.