I think I'm falling apart or we apologize but your warranty has expired...

I think I’m falling apart. Seriously. I’m not really worried about this. I’ve had a good run so far. I’m relatively healthy. I say relatively only because there are a hundred things that I could employ to make me healthier. And I could make a million excuses but it simply comes down to this one fact. I don’t want to.

To plead my case for being only relatively unhealthy I have a few things to admit. I have never smoked, ever. Nothing. Not even a drag off of someone else’s. I never did drugs, never drank. Seriously, I’m not even lying because I’m afraid someone in cyberspace will be able to come up with my real life identity. I was the kid that never tested their parents sanity, they said don’t do this I said ok. And I had an inordinate fear that God would somehow reveal my transgression to my dad and that would be worse than actually doing whatever I wasn’t supposed to do. At that point I was way more worried about my dad than God, and yes, this has changed since I’ve grown up a bit.

I have always been overweight. Not morbidly overweight, just not thin. When I was younger I read in the Garfield comics that Garfield wasn’t fat he was under tall. I adopted that particular mantra. So, I have a chronic case of under tall. I also heard the word zaftig used to describe a celebrity. I definitely looked that word up and when I got older I adopted that word to describe my body type. I will never be svelte, which is the word I really wish could be my descriptor, but hey, we all have our crosses to bear. At the beginning of this year J decided she needed to lose weight and tried talking me into getting on the dieting band wagon. I resisted for about 2 weeks and then acquiesced. I am still, more or less, on the diet. I say more or less because sometimes a girl just needs chocolate, Cherry Garcia Ice Cream or a really good loaf of bread. Not necessarily in one sitting, but I’m not opposed to the combination.

Back to my original thought of falling apart. Last week I was running late for work and ran out of the house without ingesting any caffeine. Which I really needed, by the way. I was going to stop at the Tim Horton’s near my work to get an Iced Cappuccino (I like cold coffee), however, the drive-thru line was out to the street, and since I was already late I passed on it. But I knew I still needed a caffeine fix. When I got to work I decided to get a Coke out of the pop machine, not what I usually drink in the morning, but any port in a storm. Put my money in, pushed the button, bent over to get my pop and something popped in my back and I was now a walking question mark, which got progressively worse all day. Needless to say I didn’t do much last weekend. My brother-in-law is an exercise physiologist; he prescribed stretching the muscles in my back. I told J I couldn’t even think about that. But Sunday after church he had me on the floor in his living room rolling out my muscles on a huge Styrofoam tube, which was supposed to help me, it did but I looked so ridiculous doing it. I pray I never need to do physical therapy in front of more than just my family.

The back is on the mend thankfully, however, yesterday I left work with a sore throat and this morning I woke up with a neck ache. I’m sure I just slept on it wrong, but it is painful to look to the right. I’m trying to avoid doing that but you can only favor your left side for so long, after awhile you just look weird. All these sudden ailments are just a bit too close together for my own comfort. Hence the opening line of I think I’m falling apart. How old are you before you need to have routine maintenance done? Have I reached that age? What else can I expect to happen? My eyesight is already terrible, my hair is starting to fall out, no not in clumps but there is way more in the bathtub drain than there used to be. J will not have any sympathy for me at all on this point. She feels she is more follicularly challenged than I am. (And yes, I just made up the word follicularly.)

Yes, I could exercise more, but I’d rather not. I try to avoid things that make me sweat. Why couldn’t just one of those infomercials be right? You know the one that claims if you wear the belt it will contract your stomach muscles for you and you get the equivalent of a workout while lying on the couch watching TV. That is the kind of exercising I’d love to do. (“Sorry, I can’t get up right now I’m exercising”)

I thought that I might start rollerblading. I actually do have a pair of roller blades. My little sister heard that and forbid me to engage in that particular activity. She told me I should just start walking I said if I roller bladed I’d get done faster. She clearly doesn’t understand the reasoning of doing exercising but on my terms, she’s worried I’m going to fall and break a hip or something. My brother-in-law was very encouraging; of course, he wanted my sister to join me. Which now that I think about it was probably why she forbid me to do it in the first place.

The reality is I will never choose to exercise over reading a good book, watching a movie, blogging or any other activity that doesn’t require me to raise my heart rate. I know I should. I need to start small and build. Maybe I’ll clean out my fridge, that’s exercising isn’t it? In the meantime does anyone know what liver spots look like?