Flabby and Fabulous?

Went to my doctor’s appointment this morning and was so proud of myself as I dressed in my workout clothes which would serve the dual purpose of not adding more than one pound at my assured weigh-in, while also making it easy for me to jet to the gym immediately after. When my doctor first greeted me she said “I almost didn’t recognize you; you look like a teenager walking in here!” “Oh surely you jest” I joked as I floated into the exam room to defrock – still high off of her words. The doctor entered the room started her exam and upon closer examination said “Oh – you’re starting to get a little flabby. All of your weight is going here – as she gently grabbed my stomach – and look, it looks like your arms are getting a little soft; your legs are strong but your thighs look like they too are getting soft – you have to be careful about that.” Then she started detailing how hard it was to get rid of “turkey wings.” Did I say this was my OB/Gyn?! Yes, all of this was being told to me while my legs were in stirrups with strange metal objects being inserted in and out of me! I couldn’t exactly move, so there I was, held prisoner as the doctor gently expressed that I needed to go to the gym more often. I was embarrassed to say that I went quite often as it clearly wasn’t evident. She threw me a bone by saying “Your face hasn’t rounded out and you still look young, like you’re in your 30s” mind you, moments ago I was a “teenager” walking in her door; l guess I aged 20 years just by de-robing!

This was the same doctor that told me to get on the stick if I wanted another baby; because even though I had my daughter so late in life, my body was young and healthy and she actually thought I could pull it off if I tried. How did I go from that to “get thee to the gym” in one year’s time? Well, I didn’t think too much about it because you can be sure my butt was at the gym for two hours after that appointment. Fortunately I ran into an instructor while I was trying out equipment I hadn’t worked with since the millennium. She was also a trainer; after I told her what happened she simply said “You look good; we all have to work on something. You know what you have to do to get in better shape; you just have to make up your mind to do it.” And she’s right. It’s mind over matter; it’s making a decision to do and be better. It’s giving it a shot instead of giving up. I could have gone home and eaten chocolate after my flabby diagnosis – but I worked out two hours instead – and then had chocolate – ok, baby steps.
At least it got me thinking – and writing again.