If you read this without laughing out loud, there is something wrong with you. This is dedicated to everyone who ever attempted to get into a regular workout routine.
For my birthday this year, my daughter (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me.
Although I am still in great shape since being a high school football cheerleader 43 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.
I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Belinda, who identified herself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear.
My daughter seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.
Started my day at 6:00 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Belinda waiting for me. She is something of a Greek goddess - with blond hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!
Belinda gave me a tour and showed me the machines. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which she conducted her aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring!
Belinda was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time she was around. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week-!!
TUESDAY: I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Belinda made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Belinda's rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT-!! It's a whole new life for me.
The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot.
Belinda was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. Her voice is a little too perky for that early in the morning and when she scolds, she gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying.
My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Belinda put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Belinda told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other s*** too.
Belinda was waiting for me with her vampire-like teeth exposed as her thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late - it took me that long to tie my shoes.
Belinda took me to work out with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. She sent another skinny b**** to find me.
Then, as punishment, she put me on the rowing machine -- which I sank.
I hate that b**** Belinda more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic little cheerleader. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it.
Belinda wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the damn barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich.
The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?
Belinda left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing her voice made me want to smash the machine with my planner; however, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.
I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my daughter (the little s***) will choose a gift for me that is fun -- like a root canal or a hysterectomy. I still say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have sprinkled the floor with diamonds!!!
Thanks, Mike B.
This is a heads-up to those friends who haven't experienced
and an explanation to those friends and family who have.
Most of you have read the scare-mail about the
person whose kidneys
were stolen while he was passed out. Well, read on. While the kidney
story was an urban legend, this one is not. It's happening every day.
My thighs were stolen from me during the night a few
years ago. It was
just that quick. I went to sleep in my body and woke up with someone
else's thighs. The new ones had the texture of cooked oatmeal. Who
would have done such a cruel thing to legs that had been mine for years?
Whose thighs were these and what happened to mine?
I spent the entire summer looking for my thighs.
Finally, hurt and
angry, I resigned myself to living out my life in jeans and Sheer Energy
Then, just when my guard was down, the thieves struck
again. My butt
was next. I knew it was the same gang, because they took pains to
match my new rear end (although badly attached....at least three inches
lower than my original) to the thighs they stuck me with earlier. Now,
my rear complemented my legs, lump for lump. Frantic, I prayed that
long skirts would stay in fashion.
It was two years ago when I realized my arms
had been switched. One
morning I was fixing my hair and I watched horrified but fascinated as
the flesh of my upper arms swung to and fro with the motion of the
hairbrush. This was really getting scary. My body was being replaced
one section at a time. How clever and fiendish.
Age? Age had nothing to do with it.
Age is supposed to creep up,
unnoticed, something like maturity. NO, I was being attacked repeatedly
and without warning.
In despair, I gave up my T-shirts. What could they do to me next?
My poor neck disappeared more quickly
than the Thanksgiving turkey
it now resembled.
That's why I decided to tell my story.
I can't take on the medical
profession by myself. Women of the world; wake up and smell the
That really isn't plastic that those surgeons
are using. You KNOW
where they are getting those replacement parts, don't you?
The next time you suspect someone has
had a face "lifted", look
again. Was it lifted from you?
I think I finally found my thighs and I hope
that Cindy Crawford paid
a really good price for them!
This is not a hoax! This is happening
to women in every town every
night. WARN YOUR FRIENDS!
P.S. I must say that last year I thought
someone had stolen my
breasts. I was lying in bed and they were gone! As I jumped out of bed
I was relieved to see that they had just been hiding in my armpits as I
Now I keep them hidden in my waistband.
Good one!!!! Linda G. (a YaYa sister--1965)
Mid-life is when the growth of hair on our legs slows down. This gives us plenty of time to care for our newly acquired mustache.
In mid-life women no longer have upper arms, we have wing spans. We are no longer women in sleeveless shirts, we are flying squirrels in drag.
Mid-life is when you can stand naked in front of a mirror and you can see your rear without turning around.
Mid-life is when you go for a mammogram and you realize that this is the only time someone will ask you to appear topless.
Mid-life is when you want to grab every firm young lovely in a tube top and scream, "Listen honey, even the Roman empire fell and those will too."
Mid-life brings wisdom to know that life throws us curves and we're sitting on our biggest ones.
Mid-life is when you look at your-know-it-all, beeper-wearing teenager and think: "For this I have stretch marks?"
In mid-life your memory starts to go. In fact the only thing we can retain is water.
Mid-life means that your Body By Jake now includes
Legs By Rand McNally
--more red and blue lines than an accurately scaled map of Wisconsin.
Mid-life means that you become more reflective...You start pondering the "big" questions. What is life? Why am I here? How much Healthy choice ice cream can I eat before it's no longer a healthy choice?
But mid-life also brings with it an appreciation for
what is important.
We realize that breasts sag, hips expand and chins double, but our loved ones make the journey worthwhile. Would any of you trade the knowledge that you have now, for the body you had way back when? Maybe our bodies simply have to expand to hold all the wisdom and love we've acquired.
That's my philosophy and I'm sticking to it!
Wisdom from Grandpa .......
Whether a man winds up with a nest egg, or a goose
depends a lot on the kind of chick he marries.
Trouble in marriage often starts when a man gets
so busy earnin' his salt that he forgets his sugar.
Too many couples marry for better,
or for worse, but not for good.
When a man marries a woman, they become one;
but the trouble starts when they try to decide which one.
If a man has enough horse sense to treat his wife like
she will never turn into an old nag.
A foolish husband says to his wife,
"Honey, you stick to the washin', ironin', cookin' and scrubbin'.
No wife of mine is gonna work."
The bonds of matrimony are a good investment only when the interest is kept up.
Many girls like to marry a military man -
he can cook, sew, and make beds and is in good health,
and he's already used to taking orders.
Some people try to turn back their odometers.
Not me, I want people to know "why" I look this way.
I've traveled a long way and some of the roads weren't paved.
How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?
When you are dissatisfied and would like to go back
to your youth....
Remember about Algebra.
You know you are getting old, when everything either dries up or leaks.
I don't know how I got over the hill without getting to the top.
One of the many things no one tells you about aging
that it is such a nice change from being young.
Ah, being young is beautiful, but being old is comfortable.
Old age is when former classmates are so gray and wrinkled
they don't recognize you.
If you don't learn to laugh at trouble,
you won't have anything to laugh at when you are old.
Have a GREAT day....... and keep Laughing
Thanks, Tommy O. & Shirley
Any woman can have the body of a 21-year-old .. as long as she buys him a few drinks first.
My memory's not as sharp as it used to be. Also, my memory's not as sharp as it used to be.
Know how to prevent sagging? Just eat till the wrinkles fill out.
I've still got it, but nobody wants to see it.
I'm getting into swing dancing. Not on purpose. Some parts of my body are just prone to swinging.
It's scary when you start making the same noises as your coffee maker.
I think I've reached my sexpiration date.
These days about half the stuff in my shopping cart says, "For fast relief."
I've tried to find a suitable exercise video for women
my age, but they haven't made one
called "Buns of Putty."
Don't think of it as getting hot flashes. Think of it as your inner child playing with matches.
Don't let aging get you down. It's too hard to get back up.
Remember: You don't stop laughing because you grow
old, You grow old because you stop
If My Body Were a Car
If my body were a car, this is the time I would be
trading it in for a newer model.
I've got bumps and dents and scratches in my finish
and my paint job is
getting a little dull, but that's not the worst of it.
My fenders are too wide to be considered stylish. They
were once as sleek as
a little MG; now they look more like my mother's old Buick
My seat cushions have split open at the seams. My seats are sagging.
Seat belts? I gave up all belts when Ben & Jerry's
opened a shop in my
Air bags? Forget it. The only bags I have these days
are under my eyes. Not
counting the saddlebags, of course.
I have soooooo many miles on my odometer. Sure, I've
been many places and
seen many things, but when iss the last time an appraiser factored life
experiences against depreciation?
My headlights are out of focus and it's especially hard to see things up close.
My reaction is not as graceful as it once was. I slip
and slide and skid and
bump into things even in the best of weather.
My whitewalls are stained with varicose veins. It takes
me hours to reach my
maximum speed. I'm burning fuel at an inefficient rate.
But here's the worst of it - almost every time I sneeze
or cough, my radiator
seems to leak
TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED
1930's 40's, 50's, 60's and 70's !!
First, we survived being born to
mothers who smoked and/or drank while they
They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes.
after that trauma, our baby cribs were covered with bright colored
We had no childproof lids on medicine
bottles, doors or cabinets and when we
rode our bikes, we had no helmets, not to mention, the risks we took
As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags.
Riding in the back of a pick up on a warm day was always a special treat.
We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle.
We shared one soft drink with four
friends, from one bottle and NO ONE
actually died from this.
We ate cupcakes, white bread and
real butter and drank soda pop with sugar in it, but
we weren't overweight because
WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!
We would leave home in the morning
and play all day, as long as we were back
when the streetlights came on.
No one was able to reach us all day. And we were O.K.
We would spend hours building our
go-carts out of scraps and then ride down
the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the
bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.
We did not have Playstations,
Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no
99 channels on cable, no video tape movies, no surround sound, no cell
phones, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat
rooms..........WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!
We fell out of trees, got
cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no
lawsuits from these accidents.
We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.
We were given BB guns for our 10th
made up games with sticks and tennis balls and although we were told it would happen,
we did not put out very many eyes.
We rode bikes or walked to a friend's
house and knocked on the door or rang
the bell, or just walked in and talked to them!
Little League had tryouts
and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't
had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!!
The idea of a parent bailing
us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They
actually sided with the law!
This generation has produced
some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers
and inventors ever!
The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.
We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned
HOW TO DEAL WITH IT ALL!
And YOU are one of them! CONGRATULATIONS!
You might want to share this with
others who have had the luck to grow up as
kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated our lives for our own good.
And while you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know how brave their parents were.
Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it?!
Not 39 Anymore
The other day a younger person asked me how I felt about being old. I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my reaction,she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let her know.
Old age, I decided, is a gift. I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometimes despair over physical things - the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror, but I don't agonize over those things for long. I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly.
As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avant garde on my patio. I am entitled to overeat, to be messy, to be extravagant.
I have seen too many of my dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging. Whose business is it if I choose to read until 4 a. m, and sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60's, and if I at the same time wish to weep over a lost love, I will.
I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a body no longer young, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the bikini set. They, too, will get old.
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten - and I do eventually remember the important things. Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn a little gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver. I can say "no", and mean it. I can say "yes", and mean it. As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.
So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day.
So please save me a piece of birthday cake ...
(Charlene's added note:) And when my trip on this earth is done, I want to slip into that grave with a glass of champagne in one hand and chocolate bon-bons in the other, screaming and yelling "whooooweee, what a ride"!!!
What a great blast from the past! I haven't thought about "fender
skirts"in years. When I was a kid, I
considered it such a funny term. Made me think of a car in a dress. Thinking about "fender skirts" started me thinking about other words that quietly disappear from our language with hardly a notice.
Like "curb feelers" and "steering knobs." Since I'd been thinking of cars, my mind naturally went that direction first. Any kids will probably have to find some elderly person over 50 to explain some of these terms to you.
Remember "Continental kits?" They were rear bumper extenders and spare tire covers that were supposed to make any car as cool as a Lincoln Continental.
When did we quit calling them "emergency brakes?" At some point "parking
brake" became the proper term.
But I miss the hint of drama that went with "emergency brake."
I'm sad, too, that almost all the old folks are gone who would call the accelerator the "foot feed".
Didn't you ever wait at the street for your daddy to come home, so
you could ride the "running board" up to
Here's a phrase I heard all the time in my youth but never anymore "store-bought." Of course, just about everything is store-bought these days. But once it was bragging material to have a store-bought dress or store-bought bag of candy.
"Coast to coast" is a phrase that once held all sorts of excitement
and now means almost nothing. Now we
take the term "worldwide" for granted. This floors me.
On a smaller scale, "wall-to-wall" was once a magical term in our
homes. In the '50s, everyone covered
his or her hardwood floors with, wow, wall-to-wall carpeting! Today, everyone replaces their wall-to-wall
carpeting with hard! wood floors. Go figure.
When's the last time you he ard the quaint phrase "in a family way?"
It's hard to imagine that the word
"pregnant" was once considered a little too graphic, a little too clinical for use in polite company.
So we had all that talk about stork visits and "being in a family way" or simply "expecting."
Apparently "brassiere" is a word no longer in usage. I said it the
other day and my daughter cracked
up. I guess it's just "bra" now. "Unmentionables" probably wouldn't be understood at all.
It's hard to recall that this word was once said in a whisper "divorce."
And no one is called a "divorcee"
anymore. Certainly not a "gay divorcee." Come to think of it, "confirmed bachelors" and "career girls"
are long gone, too.
I always loved going to the "picture show," but I considered "movie" an affectation.
Most of these words go back to the '50s, and before, but here's a
pure-'60s! word I came across the other
day "rat fink." Ooh, what a nasty put-down!
Here's a word I miss "percolator." That was just a fun word to say. And what was it replaced with? "Coffeemaker." How dull. Mr. Coffee, I blame you for this.
I miss those made-up marketing words that were meant to sound so
modern and now sound so retro.
Words like "DynaFlow" and "Electrolux." Introducing the 1963 Admiral TV, now with "SpectraVision!"
Food for thought - Was there a telethon that wiped out lumbago? Nobody
complains of that anymore. Maybe
that's what castor oil cured, because I never hear mothers threatening their kids with castor oil anymore.
Some words aren't gone, but are definitely on the endangered list.
The one that grieves me most "supper."
Now everybody says "dinner." Save a great word. Invite someone to supper. Discuss fender skirts.