It occurred to me the other day that I follow a very strict diet and exercise regimen. The diet portion consists of a Luna bar for breakfast every morning, followed by whatever strikes my fancy throughout the rest of the day. My exercise routine involves extended computer sessions at home and at the office, occasionally punctuated by a stroll across the room for some life-sustaining purpose.
Every day I take stock of my progress according to how my clothes seem to fit. Some mornings I feel a little thinner and I can get by with wearing something semi-cute. Other mornings I need all the camouflage I can get. I must expend, oh, dozens of calories a day wishing to be thinner.
The folly of this whole process was brought home to me last night in the course of a community service project that involved entertaining a group of children for an hour or so. I pushed a little girl of about three or four on the swings and caught her at the bottom of the slide for at least a half hour. By the time she tired of climbing up the ladder to the slide, my lower back was spasming enough that I wasn't quite sure I'd be able to straighten up again.
I am getting entirely too old to keep up the "if wishing could make it so" physical fitness routine. There's a yoga studio five minutes from my house, and I'm going to be there at 6:15 tomorrow morning for a Vinyasa class. (I'd go today, but I'm too out of shape for the advanced class they have at 6:15 on Wednesday mornings.)
Wish me luck!