Summer is almost here. If you’re a female, do you have Gaps and Bridges? No, don’t head to a dentist – – I mean “Thigh Gaps” and “Bikini Bridges.” You will see them pictured below. After you achieve these spaces between body parts, you might want to work on your Chin Chasm, Leg Lag, Neck Scape, and then your crowning glory, which would of course be some Shoulder Scaffolding.
If any teen girl is reading this – – deciding they have their work cut out for them at the gym, carving or rearranging their body parts (before bathing suit shopping) I need to make sure you first rearrange your tongue firmly inside your cheek! Because tongue-in-cheek is how I write this blog. Miss Menopause endeavors to find the fun and frivolity, even in Society’s Serious Stupidity. But not if it kills her. Therefore she won’t starve or break her back lifting heavy weights. So you too, Dear Reader – – Reject all suggestions that how you currently are isn’t good enough.
Enough has been written about Diets, so for the sake of word count, I will skip over Calorie Humor and only mention that this next Halloween, I already have my costume in mind. I am dressing up as part Baked Potato and part White Rice. Can’t wait to hide around corners, jumping out to say “Boo” to all those who are terrified of Carbs.
Now let’s head to the gym, shall we? But first it should be noted that I haven’t stepped into a fitness center since the early 80’s when I thought the Aerobic fad meant we all had to learn the foreign tongue spoken in Saudi Arabia. I was also quite turned off that women stopped shaving their legs until I looked closely and realized that all that “fur” was just the leg-warmer trend.
Now that Aerobic is called Cardio and calves are bare again, I think it’s safe to step foot back inside.
I tell myself I am going to the gym for my interior, not my exterior. Because our bodies are simply just shells (think eggshell) that contain the important stuff – – our essence (the yolk or our souls) of the people we really are.
It doesn’t matter what our shells look like as long as we are good people inside and have healthy organs. I almost have myself believing this until I see a size 2 blonde BombSHELL parade down the beach as Men rush over to throw down their towels so she doesn’t burn her dainty manicured feet. While I hop along the scalding sand, I make a mental note to violently crack open and vigorously beat as many eggs as I can find for a cheese and avocado omelette when I get home.
But back to my health and my first trip to the gym. I am told I have Adrenal Fatigue (that’s the new catch phrase, right?) and advised that exercise will alleviate this exhausting condition. I’m not sure how that will help if my adrenals are too tired to do anything once I arrive. But I plan to start them off slowly. First I’ll coax one of my adrenal glands onto the Exercycle, while the other one will be encouraged to gently swims laps in the pool. And I’ll take a nap.
Speaking of swimming, I plan on snorkeling around my living room couch a little bit each day to benefit my Indoor Fins. Oh! That’s Endorphins. Never mind.
But here I am – – finally inside this gym! I do a ton of huffing, puffing, heaving, tugging and pushing, but it’s totally worth it – – I get my work-out shorts on just fine.
At a door with loud music blasting from within, I am greeted by Gwyneth Paltrow’s twin sister chirping, “Hya, I’m Kimba! Welcomma to our Gymba. Wanna try Zumba?”
Can I just say this – – “Rule of thumba: When you go outa on a limba, and shake your bumma to La Bamba, you’re gonna feel super dumba!” Interestingly, when the instructor has us check our pulse, I think I hear Michael Jackson’s “Beat It” coming from my wrist and take that as my cue to practice the Moonwalk.
After getting laughed out of the crazy Latin-inspired dance class, I wander thru some more doors down a long hallway and into a little room where women sweat and perspire. A lady with annother unusual accent (is this Italian?) remarks, “I just love having sonnas.” She gives me a dirty look when I ask her if she also likes her daughteras? Then a trim, white-towel swathed brunette says it’s been ages since she had a sauna. Still trying to fit in with the hip lingo spoken in this little wooden room (and finding the high temperature intolerable!) I mutter, “Sauna of a Gunna – – it’s hot in here! You would think they could afford air-conditioning with our high membership dues!” As I’m escorted out, I overhear the brunette ask a redhead if this is still an exclusive health spa?
But now I know exactly what I need – – gosh, I haven’t had one in years! As the masseuse rolls and kneads my backside with her strong hands, I am reminded that I really should bake homemade bread more often.
Next I go through some double doors and meet a handsome young fitness instructor named (according to large print across his white shirt) Nike, who offers to show me where I can pump. Having weaned my son from breastfeeding many years ago, I shyly decline. He gestures at the dumb-bells and grunts, “No! I mean Iron!” I casually thank him and explain that I use the dry cleaners down the street. He and his friend Reebok, continue staring oddly as I glance behind them, swooning over the only comfy, padded, flat surface in the entire room – – a Slantboard!
Yawning, I pull on my jammies, blow everyone a goodnight kiss, and curl up for my well-deserved nap! The true cure for Adrenal Fatigue!