Waist of Mine

I know it; everyone knows it. My waist is too large. I've spent thirty minutes online looking for the best exercises to reduce my waist size. I know from experience that serious stress and not feeling like eating will do it, but I'd rather not go through any more traumatic experiences in my life even if it meant having a 24 inch waist again.

I'm on the slow side of exercise. Though I know what crunches are, I don't know what planks are or oblique crossover crunches might be. I'm sure if I joined the military, I would find out very soon. However, I'm afraid that joining the military isn't an option at 66 years old.

So I've ruled out traumatic events and the military, so I will have to look at more workable means of reducing my waist size. Of course, it is a traumatic event to realize my waist size is more like what my hips used to be when my waist was 24inches.

I guess the only plausible thing to do at this point instead of trying every single ab exercise I manage to print out just now would be to talk to my waist. So here goes. I am going to write a letter to my waist and see what kind of response I get from it.

Dear Waistline,
You have for many years been one of my most admired parts of my body. My clothes fit better, I looked better and I felt better when you were at your best. Now it seems you have gotten lost somewhere between my chest and hips. You are no longer visible, as though you might be hiding from me. Truly, I am not ashamed of you so you need not hide any more. I would love to have you back in my life as nothing has been the same since you left me.

I know it is my fault you have left or taken on a new identity as though you might be wanted by the police. I have neglected you, overfed you, and even accepted your total absence in my body. I know you probably are hurt that I would prefer late night graham crackers or peanuts to your well-being. How could I possibly prefer to take a nap than take you on a long walk around the neighborhood.

I guess with the renewal of any relationship, I first need to ask for forgiveness, and then I need to listen to you. Any good friend is a good listener and I have not been listening to you even when you told me I could be a heart attack casualty. I know I must be so frustrating to you that I'd rather take blood pressure medicine, acid reflux medicine, and complain about my joints bothering me than to listen to you. I heard you when you told me my favorite jeans no longer fit and when you reminded me I needed a larger panty size and none of my belts fit. However, I just bought larger sizes and told myself how good I look, especially for 66 years old. "What can you expect anyway," I'd say. "I'm on Medicare; I receive social security."

Okay, I'll get honest. I've been lying for several years now. I don't like not having you as a part of my body or in camouflage as thought the FBI had given you an all new identity in the Witness Protection Program. I don't even recognize you myself so certainly no one else will either.

I will write to you again, but first I would like to begin to make amends to you by exercising 30 minutes right now. I'm not going to the gym or curves or anywhere. I'm going to do these exercises right now before I do another thing. It will take a long time to renew our acquaintance, but we will begin right now. Rozanne