Working It Out…Sorta

My friend R. and I have made a pact to get (back in) shape this summer.  It’s not that we’re total slogs but we both have, for various reasons, experienced, well, a bit of slippage.  We’re not talking about getting Kate Moss skinny (not in the realm of possibility) but just back to where we were – both in terms of fitness levels and yeah, weight (okay, it’s only about five pounds but still).  Here’s the thing: we both used to work out – a lot.  It’s always helped my head as much as my body.  And I have written and edited my fair share of stories on the topic.  BUT  the last year has been kind of minimal so, because we are not ready to give up just yet…

In the past week I have done yoga, a body sculpting class, a step class (haven’t done that in 15 years, was getting serious flashbacks) and a ‘core fusion’ class – tiny little moves that absolutely kill.  I have been told never to use more than 3 pound weights but do lots of reps, I have been told that unless you use 5 – 8 pounds you will never see a change.  I have tried to love Pilates (eh) and I have done everything I can to avoid cardio (I know, I know.) R. and I have vowed to keep food diaries and cut out wine.  (Of course, we discussed this last night after class with, yes, rosé and Sancerre.)  I have bought date books and notebooks and made lists and goals (what can I say, I still believe a new notebook is a fresh start for virtually anything in life.) It’s fun to be doing it together.  It helps to have to report in – and screw off with a pal. And I’m welcoming your in-put.  Here’s R’s question from last night: She weighed herself 3 times in a row and got 3 different weights just by moving the scale an inch.  Which should she believe? (I vote for the lowest.)

PS I have exercise ADD so will try lots of new classes/theories/workouts this summer.  What are you loving at the moment?

Who has your number?

Your weight.  Your finances.  Your Age.  And then, of course, there’s sex.                    Is there any single person you tell the truth to about all of those things?

I don’t.  I had an aunt who used to make a very public guess about my weight every single time I saw her…with, let me add, startling accuracy.  (Perverse, yes, but welcome to my family.)   My mother, on the other hand, (who is equally weight-obsessed but doesn’t ask numbers) finds it incomprehensible (and mildly annoying) that I consider my income and general financial situation private.  She does, of course, know my age.  But am I honest about my age with everyone? Naw, I consider that on a need-to-know basis.    I was married for ten years.  My husband knew my (our) money deal, my age, sex stuff (duh) – but in all that time he never new my weight.  My point here?  (And no, it’s not that I’m a pathological liar.)  Most of us keep some information private.  What we choose not to share says a lot about ourselves, our self-image, our relationships.   I do wonder sometimes what would happen if we were totally honest about each of those things with everyone. (Okay, yes, I’m talking about myself here. Maybe some of you are already at that point.)  Would it be liberating?  Or would is it still no one’s business?  Does it matter?    Do you share all your numbers?  If not, why not?

Men, Women, and Weight

There was a story in the New York Times, What’s the Skinny on the Heftier Stars, about the expanding waist lines of male stars like Russel Crowe, Denzel Washington and Leonardo DiCaprio. On the one hand, I was kind of glad to see that men are coming in for the same treatment that women have put up with forever. (Misery, and five extra pounds, loves company.) But here’s the thing: These men still get the (younger, thinner) girl nine times out of ten, no matter how many extra chins they are carting around. And the criticism of the men’s newfound heft had a mild, wink and nod tone.