I surrender.
I toss in the towel, send up the white flag, bow my head in defeat. Pick the cliche you like the best, but I give up.
The layer of blubber that resides over my navel laughs and points at me every time I enter my gym, snickering as I do sit ups until the room starts to spin. I do so many sits up of various kinds (and there are many) that I can't stand up until I put my head between my legs for a few minutes. And the belly fat just hangs on, thrilled that I'm adding some hard muscle underneath its resting place, which only takes up more room in my clothes. Instead of my pant size going down, a logical assumption as I sweat at the gym four or five days a week, the waistbands are getting tighter. All that work mastering the stair machine only made it worse. I have a nice, firm butt and a muscled abdomen with a layer of feisty fat over it.
I Googled "Why can't I lose my belly fat?" this morning and found out that my sit ups are making things worse. It seems that I need to do some hard aerobic work. It even mentioned the age factor....that there isn't one. Darn. I dug out the class schedule for my gym, which was, of course, buried under a mound of paperwork on my desk.
So, I'm not giving in. I'm only giving up my resistance to organized exercise classes, the kind where everyone dances or cycles or steps together at designated times each week. I can choose from cycling, which I tried a month or so ago, and it taught me how not to fall off a bike that is nailed to the floor. Or I can try to the Zumba dance classes where everyone salsas to the beat and looks like they should have fruit on their heads a la Carmen Miranda. I've looked through the door at that one and they do seem to sweat a lot. (But no one has their head between their legs.) A new one is TRX where folks end up hanging from the ceiling on straps, doing push ups and other fun activities with the blood rushing to their heads. Not sure about that one. At all.
All of this goes against my personality as someone who makes her own way in everything from relationships to career to.......well, exercise. But, I'm nothing if not stubborn, and have committed to myself to try something different for a month. I'll work my body until sweat drips in my eyes, if I have to.
I will prevail. Or at least learn how to salsa.
I toss in the towel, send up the white flag, bow my head in defeat. Pick the cliche you like the best, but I give up.
The layer of blubber that resides over my navel laughs and points at me every time I enter my gym, snickering as I do sit ups until the room starts to spin. I do so many sits up of various kinds (and there are many) that I can't stand up until I put my head between my legs for a few minutes. And the belly fat just hangs on, thrilled that I'm adding some hard muscle underneath its resting place, which only takes up more room in my clothes. Instead of my pant size going down, a logical assumption as I sweat at the gym four or five days a week, the waistbands are getting tighter. All that work mastering the stair machine only made it worse. I have a nice, firm butt and a muscled abdomen with a layer of feisty fat over it.
I Googled "Why can't I lose my belly fat?" this morning and found out that my sit ups are making things worse. It seems that I need to do some hard aerobic work. It even mentioned the age factor....that there isn't one. Darn. I dug out the class schedule for my gym, which was, of course, buried under a mound of paperwork on my desk.
So, I'm not giving in. I'm only giving up my resistance to organized exercise classes, the kind where everyone dances or cycles or steps together at designated times each week. I can choose from cycling, which I tried a month or so ago, and it taught me how not to fall off a bike that is nailed to the floor. Or I can try to the Zumba dance classes where everyone salsas to the beat and looks like they should have fruit on their heads a la Carmen Miranda. I've looked through the door at that one and they do seem to sweat a lot. (But no one has their head between their legs.) A new one is TRX where folks end up hanging from the ceiling on straps, doing push ups and other fun activities with the blood rushing to their heads. Not sure about that one. At all.
All of this goes against my personality as someone who makes her own way in everything from relationships to career to.......well, exercise. But, I'm nothing if not stubborn, and have committed to myself to try something different for a month. I'll work my body until sweat drips in my eyes, if I have to.
I will prevail. Or at least learn how to salsa.
A fat stomach never breeds fine thoughts.
St. Jerome
Ok...you're not gonna like this Deb but here it is. I had (have) the same problem my entire life until a couple of years ago. I was in a bikini and wearing midriff tops. I was deathly ill ( the thyroid mess) and was too sick to hink let alone feed myself. Life was a blur for months. When I started to get well I looked down and all the muscle was showing...and the bones in my feet. I had lost about 30 pounds. When I started to eat again the first thing that returned and I mean immediately was the blubber which is hanging of me as we speak. The answer is being Hollywood skinny i.e. starving it off. Let's face it..if you were stranded on an island for 2 years with a papaya tree you wouldn't have any blubber...and you digestive track would be in perfect order lol...I FEEL YA GIRL. I'm about to put on my bathing suit... there's always lipo :):):) xx
ReplyDelete