Throwback Thursday — Nov. 2, 2017

published in The Richmond Review. Sept. 1998.                 BC Parent June 1999

The Bottom Line

I admit it, I felt self-conscious as I pulled on my spandex pants and headed out the door to my first fitness class. I remember hoping my t-shirt was long enough to cover my ample countenance.

I should explain the sudden rationale behind adding a fitness regime to my lifestyle. Years ago, on my wedding day, I vowed that as well as ‘to have and to hold’, I would try and fit into my wedding dress at the end of each decade of our marriage. At the time this did not seem an unreasonable promise; I was young, and admittedly foolish. That was almost 20 years ago and the anniversary of our second decade together looms like a final exam.

I have, over the course of my marriage, gained and lost over a hundred pounds – all in five and ten pound increments. I own complete wardrobes in three different sizes. I yo-yo with the best of them. My metabolism slows down at the mere mention of salad.

As we neared our twentieth anniversary I found myself taking inventory. Our home was brimming with things retired to the closets, crawl-space and attic. Photographs of birthdays and Christmases past waited in heaps to be put into albums. And I was packing an extra thirty-five pounds.

Middle-age approaches accompanied by its colleagues; an intolerance to certain foods and stiffness in the morning. But it is also bringing a new insight; I know myself better than ever before – I’m getting harder to fool. I’ve known for years that fad diets are pointless and gimmicks expensive.  The only thing that gets thin with a quick-fix is your wallet. This time I planned to do it right.

I made some minor and healthy adjustments to our menus and joined a local gym. Given my age and lack of physical fitness, I opted for a low-impact class to begin with – the spring in my step having lot most of its bounce over the passage of time and three pregnancies. I always planned to get back into shape after the birth of our last child – and I am (the fact that child is 15 years old is not important).

I fumbled my way through the session, tripping repeatedly and losing my place. But much to my surprise nobody seemed to notice or care.  The class was full of women just like me.

That was six months and thirty pounds ago. Our anniversary is six weeks away, I’m going to fit in that dress come hell or high water, and with my commitment to fitness, still fit in it ten years from now.