Sunday, April 16, 2006 by Michelle
As many of you know, I’ve been working out with a trainer, Warren, since mid-June 2005 and it has been going well. I’m getting fit and feeling motivated to exercise on my own (e.g. jogging Sundays, walking four km home from work 3-4 times per week).
During my weekly session with Warren, I start with 15 minutes of heart pounding fear-inducing cardio on the treadmill; he has control of the speed, so there’s no slouching. I started this part of my workout around October last year and hadn’t been able to hit the 15-minute mark without jumping off at least twice to wheeze for a bit. I’ve been trying very hard to not stop, but to no avail; I usually jumped before 12-minutes. On Friday, I had a comfortable pace and just kept going. And going. And going. And I did it!! Yes, I did the full 15 minutes without stopping and let me tell you I was ecstatic. Now, of course, I have to keep doing it and Warren is sure to increase the speed, but I know I can do it now and that’s almost overwhelming.
At the end of my last workout, I confessed to him that my walk home is becoming almost too easy. He said I must be ready to start adding some jogging in then. I mentioned that would mean bringing exercise clothes to work and stuff, and he said, “you’re becoming one of us!” Although I laughed and said he was hilarious, I later thought a lot about that. Me, becoming someone who exercises? Someone who takes their exercise gear to work and works out after work. Me? Really? I never thought that would be something I could say was “just like me.” That was pretty overwhelming too, after a lifetime of fat.
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Saturday, April 1, 2006 by Michelle
I finally decided, on the event of my 39th birthday yesterday, that a facial was in order. Although I'm a bit squeamish about the thought of someone I don't know touching my face, I thought, "millions of women can't be wrong." So I set up an appointment to go to Escents Spa on Commercial Drive. Let me tell you, do I ever understand what all the fuss is about now; it was amazing! If I would have been any more relaxed and mellow, I'd have turned into a puddle! In fact, I commented that if doctors took lessons from them and dimmed the lights, put on some smooth jazz and diffused a bit of Aromatherapy when women went in for their pap tests, we'd all go like we're supposed to only we'd enjoy it in spite of the "duck lips" (Vagina Monologues term for spectulum).
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Tuesday, March 28, 2006 by Michelle
I should exercise more... I should meditate/relax/do yoga regularly... I should read more literature... I should quilt more... I should/shouldn't eat this/that/the other... I should, I should, I should. As a wise man once said, "Don't you should on me!" There's just not enough time in the day to do all the shoulds.
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Saturday, February 18, 2006 by Michelle
2005 was a year of revelation for me, namely that I'm in my late 30s and going far too gray too fast for my comfort. The damn gray hairs stick straight up, out and forward on my head, some of them spiraling out of control in my fairly straight hair. Unnerving it is. I think I slept through my 30s and am rather stunned they're almost over; I'll be 39 in just over a month. Where the hell was I?
Last week I had a hair appointment and decided to do something about the gray. Sick of plucking the ones sticking straight out of my bangs (much to the horror of my hairdresser), I got my hair coloured my natural colour and got some bronze highlights for fun (much to the delight of my hairdresser). Then on a whim, I went to Escents Spa and had my eyebrows waxed on the advice of my friend Karen. Ouch.
Chris, my husband of 11 years, I was sure would notice the hair had no grays. And my friend Karen, of 18 years, would see the amazing eyebrows; she waxes poetic about the importance and amazingness of waxing. The result? The only thing said was by Chris; "Your haircut is a bit different - it does look nice though" (he rarely likes my haircuts and we have an agreement that he can't comment for at least a week until he gets used to it). No notice of the colour or eyebrows. Then Karen, Chris and I go on a nice long trail walk at Buntzen Lake the next day. I think, "surely they'll notice in the sun!" Nope. Nothing. Karen still hasn't noticed, even after I trounced her in Scrabble yesterday, and I finally gave up waiting and told Chris yesterday about it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not hurt or upset; I'm just a bit surprised. Hell, he was surprised when I told him.
What does all this mean? I ask myself. Perhaps that it wasn't so much about looking bad to others as it was my being anxious about the changes that have come with age. The people around me don't give much notice to the minor changes of my aging. It's in my own vanity that I see and fear all the inconsequential changes. This is something that I'll need to chew on for a while.
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