The Bandera Courier
Bandera Courier
Thursday December 14, 2017
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Still resolved

Mikie Baker

January's almost gone. Has your resolution gone by the wayside? Or has your willpower strengthened? Raise your hand if you're still working hard on your resolution. I would but, right now, I can't raise my arm.
My resolution was one you've heard before - lose 20, okay 30, pounds so when the perfect man shows up in my life I'll already be looking hot. Yes, Virginia, there is a perfect man and I can live life with less blubber on my belly.
I have made progress as I'm 10.8 pounds lighter. Don't you just love digital scales? Ounces are my new best friend! Last week I was getting stuck so I had a decision to make - either buckle down and start exercising or give up. Since none of my clothes fit, I opted to suffer.
I pulled out the treadmill, gave a mighty sigh and hopped on. This treadmill is not one of the latest electronic wonders to hang your closes on. Nope, it was given to me and it's on its last leg. Pretty bad stuff when you're a treadmill.
The electronic controls are shot. The up and down speed no longer works, but some of the preset routines do. So I can beat on the number two until it kicks in and then I can walk 2 mph. Have you ever tried to walk 2 mph? It's a slow motion thing like those people on television commercials who take some magic pill and then do lots of fun activities in slow motion. By the way, why do people feel better when they move slowly?
After walking slow for about a minute, I punch four and 4 mph kicks in - that's a quick jog for me. About five minutes later, if I hold my mouth right and punch really hard, I can get the thing back down to three, which is 3 mph. So the days the button doesn't work, it's like having a built in personal trainer who believes, "You gotta have the pain for the gain." Heck, maybe that was Jane Fonda.
I downloaded the "Lose Your Belly if You Do Exactly What I Say 24/7" book to read while I trot. I've learned that if I don't eat anything but celery and grapefruit, never drink again and exercise for three hours a day, I can look like Jane in about a year - real motivational stuff.
One of the things this evil book has convinced me to do is lift weights for a mere 15 minutes a day. You want to talk about slow motion, 15 minutes feels like three hours, so I guess I'm meeting my exercise quota for the day. The five-pound weights are old and one is cracked thanks to the Teenage Eating Machine. I figure they're in about as good a shape as I am.
When Stroke of Genius wanders by and sees me in exercise mode, he says encouraging things like, "Don't hold that pose too long unless you're looking forward to back surgery." I haven't hit him in the head with a bar bell yet, but my aim's getting better every day.
If he felt like me, he wouldn't feel a thing anyway. My left arm has started dangling at my side, I'm walking with a limp and I fear if I slip off the run-away treadmill, I'll require hip surgery.
There is something good about my resolution. My mother would be proud because I'm standing up straighter, my chiropractor can just smell all the money he'll make from my next visit and I'm going to get rich investing in Aleve stock.
Isn't January grand?