Treadmill or clothes hanger?

that is the question (I ask myself on a daily basis).

I have come to the conclusion that I am old, well getting old anyhow. I seem to be losing my get-up-and-go, my oompf, my 'yeah baby let's do it' (no not that, that's private and I promise something never to be discussed (though I can't promise my birth stories won't be filled with a little nudity (ha no not mine of course....my babies'))). Just as they don't come with an instructional manual (dammit to heck) they also do not come fully clothed and ready to go (dammit....though I do enjoy choosing and buying their clothes so that's lucky)! You see? I have, I mean have a mama's brain because they are now invading my post about my beautiful new (pre-loved though I think more in the loved-to-look-at sense rather than pre-loved used sense - yay for me!) treadmill! Which was incidentally bought because my lower half decided that it would pudge-out whence babies were created! I'm not too fond of pears so it's such a shame that I have to resemble one (here I am below mid-treadmilling, and before you ask...no I am not green per se, it was my full body suit (you know...for encouraging sweating and thus greater weight loss) btw for those interested, the pink headband - following my eighties comeback trend - is from Nike :p)!

I must create a page about my experiences with weight gain and loss (and 'again' again :p) because it really has been rather interesting how I have felt about and experienced weight gain and dealt with loss. But also about my body image. Something I have always considered and of course like most women I know I have always cared for and maintained my health engine and fitness as best suited me. But to face what so many women face, accept, struggle with, or embrace, has been quite a strange and humbling, and at times very much a debilitating experience for me!

So my darling TM (treadmill) greets me every morning (as I pass by on my way to shower!!!). I pat her (she is a her because I only have experiences with female weight and exercise dramas of which she is apart of) and promise to spend some undivided attention with her later. Luckily for her, but not always for me, I tend to stick to my word because most normally my decision-making and will-power are unremitting - yup basically I, as a physical being, have absolutely no power over me, who makes the mental decisions (double dammit). Still I suppose it is useful to be stubborn!

Anyway, I endeavour to return to my beloved TM once a day for between 20-30 minutes. I haven't had her long and have not had any regular set exercise aside from running round after Master 5 and little Miss 2, for a few years, thus I am taking it easy. Taking it slow. Breaking in the babe bod (okay not babe just bod) slowly. Building up my momentum so to speak. Finding my exercise feet isn't easy - by the way do not, I repeat do not try to actually look at your feet, or close your eyes for that matter, while treadmilling. Apparently this is a no-no. Not that the warning labels actually state this! Endured owie on my ankle bone last week from thinking that was possible!

As usual I digress (in terms of me digress means brain wanders away, way, way ahead, way, way too fast and thus I am left at a loose end until I catch up! Okey dokey....caught now!). I have Sundays off, not because it is the 'big guy's' day of rest, but because there are too many beings around to interrupt or appear needy as soon as they hear the purr of my TM's engine! That also happens when I am trying to work, take a shower, or a relaxing bath (yeah like that ever happens) or watch my favourite programme (haha yeah like that ever happens either). I haven't had a favourite programme in years! Though I do enjoy Brothers and Sisters and Drop Dead Diva, oh and The Mentalist (sigh) - and sometimes I actually watch them (no, not really....rarely).

So while I do exercise almost every day, I face the persistent question from TM of 'will she love me today or not?'.

Yesterday I finally found my cell phone headphones (I am so tidy and efficient that I efficiently tidied them so as not to be able to find them in order, I must subconsciously have decided, that I could not once again leave them laying on the bench!) and managed to enjoy treadmilling so much more with good music in my ears. Pretty sure I couldn't treadmill to Bach or Chopin but lord do the eighties make the most perfect treadmill music ever ever! Here I am to the left multitasking as only women can do so amazingly well - it always amazes me how a cartoonist can sketch me without seeing or knowing me...pure genius! I'm not sure where the yellow bottle was bought but the red one is a Camelbak one (another pure genius invention).

Today I was enjoying myself so much and feeling a little sleepy as I used TM that I contemplated closing my eyes (okay I actually did again - even after last week's lesson of no closing eyes on treadmill ever again) and taking a nap. Not. Recommended. At. All.

Ed. loves TM.....TM 4 Ed. (tomorrow is a new (sweaty TM) day).

And after weeks of lovce and hate...wait for it...the treadmill became a clothes hanger! But I suppose at least it wasn't just a dust ledge!