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But I’m Not A Morning Person!

  • Posted on February 26, 2013 at 5:25 am


The only way I’m going to be comfortable with my body is if I tone things up. And the only way I’m going to do that is by being consistent with my workouts, something I haven’t been in, well, years.  My slacking off at the gym wasn’t really my fault (who am I kidding?). I let myself believe that the full time job I took after my divorce left me little or no time to exercise. Truth is, I got lazy. And now I’m paying the price. If I had only maintained…

But I didn’t.

So now I have to do something. By April. I’ll tell you one thing—putting this out here on my blog, for anyone to see, is mortifying … I mean motivating. I can’t very well say I’m going to do something and then not do it. Well, I can, but …

My plan is to get my workouts in before work, and since I don’t do well on treadmills (I get dizzy), I need to be in an exercise class with an instructor telling me what to do and when to stop doing it. I need loud music and people around me doing what I’m doing (and letting me know I’m not the only one out of breath or having trouble with that final rep).

Since I work from 9 to 6 and sometimes later every day, I’ll have to get up at 4:30 a.m. to get to a 5:30 or 6:00 class. Do you think that’s enough time (first I have to take the dogs out, drink coffee, eat a banana and brush my teeth)?

Even though I’m not a morning person, I’m determined to have a biker babe body (my version of one anyway) before I head out to California. I’m sharing my quest for a body that weighs less than it does at this moment, a body without triceps that flap when you swat them, a body that looks good in a short skirt without Spanx underneath (or any underwear for that matter—OMG, I didn’t just say that!), in order to hold myself accountable.

I start tomorrow at 4:30 a.m.  Who’s with me? 

I Want To Be A Motorcycle Mama

  • Posted on February 25, 2013 at 12:00 am

face-66317_640If you had the chance to act out a fantasy for a week, would you do it? I’ve got that chance and I want to take advantage of it—to spend a week pretending I’m someone else—to go from the fifty-something, divorced, suburban woman who defines me on the outside to the biker chick, motorcycle mama, badass babe I know I am on the inside (well . . . somewhere on the inside). I have a chance to act out the role of “old lady” to the President of a well-established motorcycle club in California (who, me?), the kind of club like the one on Sons of Anarchy. 

I’ve always had a thing for motorcycles (but please don’t tell my mother). And I used to have a thing for this particular Biker Prez—but that was thirty years ago, way before he started hanging out with bikers, before I moved back to the East Coast from L.A. where I met him, before I married a man who never rode a motorcycle and who I raised two kids with before divorcing after twenty years. 

I reconnected with my old flame from California last year and have plans to fly out to visit him at the end of April.

There’s always been a bit of biker girl in me, and now, in my fifties, I’m going to let her out. The only problem is my body. I’ve got two months to lose those extra pounds I put on over the holidays (you know, the ones that come in handy every year as an excuse for gaining weight).  

I know myself—if I’m not comfortable with my body, this fantasy won’t work. I mean, part of being a biker chick is dressing the part, right? Short skirts, tight jeans, little tank tops that show lots of cleavage and arms (my triceps need toning!). Everything skimpy, tight and sexy. Even a little sleazy. Everything black. 

I’ll need a new wardrobe. And a new body.