It was a Weight Watcher’s nightmare–after I tumbled down the stairs in December and sustained a nasty head injury, my doctor prohibited me from any form of exercise until March.
What? No calorie-burning workout? Me–the chubby girl in high school in the 1960’s who had to watch skinny Jane Larson inhale the five-tacos-for-a-dollar special at Taco Bell while I nibbled the brown-bagged “diet” lunch my mother had prepared for me? I still feel the angst of the teenaged Anne who couldn’t fathom why she was chubby when Jane was trim. It was unfair in the most primal sense.
So, not exercising at the age of 62 was, in a word, inconceivable. Don’t get me wrong–this is not because I am an obsessive exerciser. I deplore exercise, but I acknowledge that it is a necessary evil if one is to eat anything other than skinless chicken breasts and broccoli.
There were advantages to being inactive for two months: I had plenty of time to select which elastic-waist stretch pants from Chicos I could purchase to wear in the spring. After all, if I wasn’t going to do Jazzercise crunches, my skinny jeans weren’t coming out of the closet.
I didn’t watch Turner Classic Movies and needlepoint all day long. I also spent a lot of time thinking…about food, the kind of food I dearly loved but couldn’t eat.
Herein lay my strategy: if I was going to have to sit on my caboose for two months, I would not indulge in foods that were processed or refined, because they’re the culprits that always brought on weight gain. This meant that I could no longer enjoy sweets or any food that wasn’t fiber-filled, filling or good-for-you.
It was an interminably long two months.
Then, just before the beginning of March I got an email from my Jazzercise instructor, Jenny, reminding me that she was expecting to see me in class soon. And on my first morning back, the above sign lay on the floor where I normally stand.
I’ve been to five Jazzercise classes thus far and I must admit, it feels good to move again. No, I don’t love exercise, but I like the way I feel afterwards. I fell down during my fourth class back, which was embarrassing but not unexpected. My balance still isn’t up to snuff.
I also weighed in at Weight Watchers (employees have to weigh in every month to assure that they’re within a healthy weight range), and to my complete surprise, I hadn’t gained one pound.
It must have been due to the stringent eating rules I established for myself during my exercise hiatus.
Processed food can make you fat. Damn! I usually love it when I’m right, with the exception of this one time.