66 days

I read today the world ends in 65 days. Which is, kind of a drag because it’s one day before my new goal ends………insert drum roll here……………..

Sixty Six Days to a new beginning. Yes indeed, I’m taking charge and following The Dumb Little Man’s blog advice: To add or change a habit you have to do it for 66 days. So, while some people choose to floss every night or make their bed, I have chosen the task of working out EVERYDAY for the duration. “Ha” you say? True. It is a tall order for the out of shape, middle-aged, over weight mama, but, after my experience in a sports attire dressing room  the other day I realized……. it’s time.

What started out as an outing to secure some new workout clothes that could be worn outside of the house turned into a brief panic attack moment. Firstly, this new *figure* control workout wear (aka Spanx for the cardio set) is a bitch to get on, but being a trooper, I persevered. The pants were o.k. I’m not a fan of anything so constricting that any other part of your body bulges out where the fabric ends, but I figured if I got the matching top I’d only really have to deal with ankle exposure and arms. I should have known as I forced it over my head and shoulders something was not right. I mean, it was my size, but, so, so tight. Beads of sweat rolled down my face and to be honest, I almost felt just getting the fucker ON was going to be my workout. Finally, success. In all it’s body hugging glory I looked, well, svelte. Well, Okie dokie. I’m game. Look thinner while getting thinner helps the old ego, so I was sold. I pulled the pants off and had a good laugh/gasp/cry  (nothing like a three-way mirror) as I reached to pull off the top I got it part way and realized………… it’s NOT coming off. My first reaction was to panic and imagine having to walk or call for help. Then I realized I would not be able to get my pants back on because my arms were stuck over my head. So now I’m standing half nekkid, arms entwined like some Bollywood dancer above my head, and boobs now squished like some mammogram machine gone haywire.

(deep breath)

All I could thing was they are going to have to use THE JAWS OF LIFE ON ME! This was not my fireman rescue seen I’ve played out a million times.

(deep breath)

So, in one last-ditch effort I pulled with all my might. It popped off my head (well, my head did not pop off, but you get the idea). I spent a good minute beating it up, then it layed at my feet. I could feel it sneering at me, and I knew then it was time for a change. I also bought the next size up.

Fast Forward to my 66 day challenge. Everyday folks. Now, mind you, some days may consist of a 30 minute stroll on the beach, but THAT will count dammit.