Farm Fresh Blog

Who was that old, fat, drunk woman staring back at me?

I looked at my new driver license photo again.  Eegaads! Who was this person?

I compared it to my last one - the one that I hated because I looked like such a bitch.  (But at least the woman in that picture was a skinny bitch.)

There is nothing quite like the reality check of a bad photo to smack you across the face like a wet fish.  But wait! There was one more nail to drive in my coffin.  I called my old Karate Instructor regarding butchering lambs (he is a butcher) and had to admit to him that I'd gotten fat.

"NO!" he protested.

This is the same man who carefully tuned my body years ago before I joined the police department.  This is the same man who cautioned that I was getting "too thin" after I joined the police department.  And here I was having to admit that I'd let all the training and hard work go out the window. It was like telling your mechanic that you'd gotten drunk and driven his sports car into the ditch. And true to form, he happily offered to fix the problem. 

"Come back to my morning class.  You'll love Krav Maga."  (Israeli martial art)

"I'm sure I would, but when would I have the time?"

And there it was.  Time. There was never enough of it. I decided then and there that I needed to start making the time to get back in shape. Not for Krav Maga, but for me - for my health, for my self-esteem, and so I didn't die young and leave Other Half with all these sheep.

I immediately grabbed the phone and dialed Dear Friend. We had plans to go shopping and summer capri pants were our target item. Obviously we now needed to find work-out clothes too.

She answered the phone and informed me that today was a VERY BAD DAY for her to go shopping.

"I haven't been this big in years!" my former marathon runner said. "I feel horrible!"

To make her feel better, I drove over to show her my driver license photo. Clearly, it cheered her up. I'm not sure what to make of that.  Regardless, we were both inspired to start a work-out program.  It was decided that since she lived at one end of the street, and I lived at the other end of the street, we could have work-out stations in each yard and jog/power walk between the stations.  Naturally we would each take a dog, and the dog would get to do a down-stay at each station.  (Oh joy for the dog!)

I have only one pair of summer pants. That's not true.  I have 3 pairs of summer pants that I can barely squeeze my ample ass into, but they don't count.  I have only one pair of loose-fitting summer pants, and I am beginning to wear a hole in the seat of those.  The goal of our mission was to find comfortable britches.  The problem with most summer capris is that they are made for 16 year old girls who want hip huggers.  Where do 47 year old women shop?  Are we destined to wear long t-shirts forever because we can't find pants that don't come above our love handles? A clue that there is no need to even take that cute pair of pants off the rack is if the zipper is only 3 inches long. Again, where do mature women shop?

So we began our odyssey at the sporting goods store - racks and racks and racks of dazzling colors, and none of them fit.

Dear Friend found the most adorable swim suit.  Excited, she waved it at me before she headed to the dressing room.  The look on her face when she came out said it all. I didn't even bother to try.  Swimsuits would be reaching a little high for me anyway.  Hey!  I just wanted some freakin' pants that fit! The frustrating thing was that the sizes varied wildly even within the same pants.  For instance, I tried on three pairs of pants - same size, same brand, same cut, different color.  All I can say is that the 8 year old kids in China who made those pants were all using different scales.  One pair was grossly too big (yea!). One pair was grossly too samll. (boo!) And I could barely squeeze into the last pair, 

AND YET THEY WERE SUPPOSEDLY ALL THE SAME PAIR OF PANTS!

I did find yoga pants and some adorable, overpriced t-shirts ("Life Is Good" brand) that hopped into my cart.  I also bought a scale. It was about the same as buying a dragon. We drove home, inspired to cut back on sugary drinks, fried foods, and sweat a lot more.

Apparently farm work is great for your arms, but does very little for your middle. I know this because over time, I'm beginning to resemble an apple.  How is it possible to be on your feet all day, fall to bed exhausted, and still gain weight?

There is a fascinating difference between men and women.  I bought a scale, but I had no plans to actually get on the thing any time in the near future. Yet as soon as I brought it home, Other Half happily climbed on the dragon.

He peered down, and said, "That can't be right."

I laughed. (And Denial is a river in Egypt.) Despite his urging, I didn't even bother to climb on.  The next morning, after Dear Friend and I had sweated our way up and down the road for about 45 minutes, and while Other Half was still sleeping, I snuck onto the beast.

Do what?!!  40 pounds overweight!!!

I didn't even bother to deny it.  And yet somehow, magically, I felt better.  I was now tackling the problem, and the problem had a number. And I had a plan. And I have a goal!  Don't laugh, but as soon as I get back in shape, I'm gonna take a new driver license photo. How vain is that?

  Seven years ago when I thought I was overweight!

 Now!  40 pounds later! Girlfriend has GOT to get back in shape! It is not so much the weight, as how it makes me feel. It ages me. So, with my trusty Border Collie at my side, I embark on yet another journey to get back in shape!