Trying Not to Fart

So, now that I'm old I find some part of me is always gimpy. It varies...pretty much on a daily basis...depending on what I've been doing. Sometimes it's my shoulder, sometimes it's my knee, sometimes it's my back...actually, it's always my back, so that seems kinda normal. But it's all annoying.

My old friend Char, of undesirable snackage fame, kept touting the benefits of yoga to me. Specifically, a MyoFascial Release class...where, basically, you lay around on balls of various sizes and levels of firmness. I was, admittedly, skeptical of the whole shebang.

I tried yoga before and it was just okay. Nothing great, nothing horrible, just average...and everybody was so fucking serious about it. I have trouble being serious...especially when it seems required...like church, or funerals. There's just something about people being so solemn that makes me want to laugh. I'm sure it's some kind of weird personality disorder.

Imagine my surprise when I fucking loved it!!! Nobody, I mean nobody, could have been more surprised than me. Who'd a thunk that laying on top of balls strategically placed could bring so much relief to my aching body???

The rubbery instructor, Yogi Leslie, who's a little slip of a thing with nary an ounce of fat on her entire body can twist herself like a pretzel. She's very passionate about what she does and sometimes I still find myself wanting to laugh.

YL will tell us to think about the "quality of your thoughts" as we're breathing deeply, eyes closed, lying there on top of hard round rubber balls poking into the muscles of our shoulders...trying to relax. WTF does that even mean, I think to myself??? The "quality" of my thoughts??? I have to worry about whether or not my thoughts have some important quality now? At times like this, I find myself trying to breathe really deeply so I won't start laughing...or worse...snorking like a pig.

Yesterday at class we were using squishier rubber balls about the size of a  small cantaloupe. The ball was positioned between the ribcage and hip. So I'm laying there on my back, fat, dumb, and happily trying to relax...when I start to feel gas, seemingly from where the ball is pressing into my back, start winding its way to the nearest point of exit.

In a room filled to capacity with fellow ball layers seeking some small measure of muscle relief, I'm trapped like a rat, frozen motionless. Trying to prevent the escape of air the cheeks of my butt are practically welded together when a miracle occurs. The seemingly giant but probably minuscule bubble of air goes back to wherever it came from. I'm still not sure how that works because it never seems like you feel it going back up the same way you feel it coming down. But I'm not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth and I'm able to finally breathe a sigh of relief.

It's a good thing too because just after this the next thing I hear coming from YL's voice is "think about the quality of your thoughts" and I'm fortunately able to breathe really deeply so I don't laugh out loud...It's the Stoopidist Thing.

WWTC - Day 3

I said I was going to do this every day...so here goes...

We have new neighbors. When we moved here twenty years ago, the couple next door were the oldsters. Last month the oldsters moved out and youngsters moved in. With little kids and four dogs.

There's a lot of commotion that goes on with young families. My horses are spooked by the little kids running around. The dogs are constantly barking at the strangers next door. We've had vehicles coming & going down our little road more in the last few weeks that in all the time we've lived here. At least that's how it seems.

Thankfully our little neighborhood, while not perfect, is made up of pretty great people. Today I was talking to the new neighbor across the pasture fence. While he and I were talking, his two little girls ran up to the house and brought back apples for my horses. Only one of them was brave enough to hold out her hand with a piece of apple in the palm so the horse could have it. She may have just been bitten with the Horse Bug.

I'm thankful I got to know the old neighbors that moved and thankful for the new ones starting out in a new place. I'll be even more thankful if it turns out the little girl was bitten by the horse bug...there's nothing like a little girl in love with horses.

P.S. The Husband and I are now the "Oldsters"...It's the stoopidist thing...

WWTC - Day 2

Today I'm thankful for Holiday Grapes. I'm pretty sure that's not the real name, but that's what they're called in the grocery store. They're a really crisp, sweet, red seedless grape that's only around this time of the year and I'm ridiculously happy when I see them. They're the only grapes I buy all year.

I should be thankful for more important things, like clean water, a warm bed to sleep in, a refrigerator full of food, and a heating source that doesn't include burning fecal matter...and I am. They're all things I shouldn't take for granted, but I do.

Still, even knowing it's incredibly shallow...I was really thankful for those grapes...AND...they were on sale...which made me doubly thankful...It's the stoopidist thing.


Worldwide 30-day Thankfulness Challenge

WWTC

This has nothing to do with wrestling...but that's what I immediately thought of when I saw the title typed out. It's the World Wide Thankfulness Challenge. Starting today and throughout the month of November, you're supposed to write down things you're thankful for on a daily basis.

Never having been one to "journal" my innermost feelings or deeply ponder the mysteries of the universe, it's kinda surprising that I decided to do this. I signed up on the FB World Wide 30-day Thankfulness Challenge Group page to do it, but since I've never actually posted anything on FB, I figured it would be easier for me to do it here.

When I stop & think about it's a little overwhelming. With The Husband, a wonderful family, great friends, horses, dogs, and cats that I love...there's so much to be thankful for I don't even know where to begin. It's like going to the Thankfulness Grocery store and trying to pick only one thing from the shelves.

But tonight I'm thankful for a hot bath...It's the stoopidist thing...

P.S. I'm the Queen of Procrastination but I'm really going to try to stick with it...unlike every diet I've ever started.


World Wide 30-day Thankfulness Challenge

He Still Hears Just Fine....

I know I complain an awful lot about The Husband and his refusal to acknowledge his need for a hearing aid...and I'm gonna keep on doing it.

While I was watching a new TV series tonight, The Husband came in and sat down during the last ten minutes of the episode. Now, I know he can't hear any of the dialogue because the volume isn't set how he likes it...loud enough for the neighbors to hear it clearly from their house...which is half a football field away.

I'm sure it's probably frustrating trying to lip read TV shows. Maybe that's the reason he wanted a bigger TV...so the lips would be bigger and easier to read. 

Well, I'm here to tell you that doesn't work. This is our brief conversation...

"Well, that was a stupid movie." The Husband pronounced...after seeing the last ten minutes of what, to him, was a silent movie.

Clearly annoyed that he has the audacity to pronounce judgment on something he has barely seen and hasn't heard a word of, I wittily reply "It's not a movie, it's a series."

I promise I'm not making this up...this is what he said...

"Her name is Cereal?"

I'm still laughing just thinking about it...It's The Stoopidist Thing...

The Husband & Me

I went to Costco late Sunday afternoon with The Husband. I didn't think it would be as crowded as it was. Don't ask me why I thought Costco wouldn't be crowded on a weekend day. There is no logical explanation. This troubles me a little. Not the fact that it was crowded...the fact that I thought it wouldn't be.

Here's how I came to this horribly wrong conclusion. I just thought since it was after 4:00 P.M., most people would be home. The early birds, which is usually me, would be long, long, gone. The churchgoers who stop by after church would be gone, and the family packs would be home trying to get kids ready for the school week and getting their dinner ready, etc.

Sadly, I didn't account for all the other hundreds of people who don't fall into these categories. Night owls who don't even get out of bed before noon'ish, childless couples stopping by on their way to dinner or a movie, oldsters hitting the sample tables...

In fact, now that I think about it, Costco should set up a "Sample Aisle". One aisle that would be set up exclusively so the Saturday/Sunday Sample Seekers wouldn't block the aisles...thus freeing the rest of the shoppers from seething inwardly as we're forced to turn down an aisle we don't really need to be in just to avoid the crowd at the sample stop where all normal shopper traffic has come to a screeching halt. I wonder if Costco has a suggestion box somewhere?

When I'm shopping, I don't like to waste time. I go, get what I need, and get out. The quicker, the better. Scari, of Old Chix fame, complains that we're running when we shop. She should shop with The Husband, they're both amblers.

In addition to being an ambler, The Husband is also extremely hard of hearing...not stone cold deaf, but definitely headed in that direction...rapidly.
He's also a lover of gadgetry. Cell phones, GPS, tool gadgets. The only gadgetry he's not the least bit interested in is hearing aids...and it's the only one he REALLY needs.

"I hear just fine," he tells me...every time I suggest he just looks into getting hearing aids. I used to think he just had "selective" hearing. Not anymore.

As we head down the main aisle toward the checkout register, I casually turn around to make sure The Husband is following me...because I always get ahead of him.

"Huh?" he shouts...mistakenly thinking I said something to him...which causes me to start laughing...because he's so loud that people look at him. He actually shouted "Huh". He didn't know he shouted "Huh?"...but he did. The fact that he can see I'm laughing seems to make him even more certain I've said something to him...

"What?" is the next shouted response to, what I can only assume is, his guess that I've said something he missed.

I'm sure it must look like I suffer from some kind of essential tremors since I keep shaking my head in the universal "no" gesture as I pat the air with my right hand. It's my feeble attempt to get him to not say anything else...and it worked! Maybe we've reached the age where we understand some kind of non-verbal oldster sign language.

At the checkout counter, The Husband hands the non-hard of hearing, young checker his Costco card. And lest you think that I'm sharp as a fucking tack, when the checker greeted The Husband by his first name, I thought he must know him...like maybe a friend of his son's or something. It never occurred to me that he was reading it off the friggin' card. Duh...

"So Ron, can I get you anything from the food court? Stamps? Nothing?" the young non-hard of hearing checker asks The Husband...who responds with his version of the universal "no" gesture as he puts his card in the reader.

As the checker tells him his total these were the exact words that came out of The Husband's mouth..."Hey, you got any of those stamp books?"...

I immediately jerked my head around with the universal "WTF" expression on my face, looking at him like he's just grown another head and start laughing. The little gal who's boxing our stuff smiles at me. And the checker...God love him, acts like he never even asked The Husband if he wanted stamps as he recalculates our total...it's The Stoopidist Thing.

 P.S. The Husband still insists he hears "just fine".

Fat

For most of us Old Chix, fat becomes an accepted part of our lives. Not that we like it or anything, we just tend to accept it more. Mostly because we're too lazy or tired to really do anything about it...except complain. Heaven forbid we should quit shoving food down the ol' pie hole.

I make decisions all the time about getting physically fit. They usually last a couple of hours. It's the follow through I have a problem with. If, God forbid, I had some serious health issue where if I didn't change my eating/exercise habits I'd die, I would probably be better on the follow through. Fortunately I haven't been, and hopefully never will be, faced with this lifestyle altering necessity.

You know how you always see ol' wimmen wearing jackets over their blouses? Even when it's hot, we wear lightweight shirts over tank tops or any kind of sleeveless shirt. It has to be pretty friggin' hot outside before I'll go sleeveless in public. Face it, nobody's really trying to make a fashion statement with a cover up from Omar the Tent Maker. We're trying to cover shit up...like...

Muffin Tops - This sounds kinda cute, doesn't it? And it is...on a two-year-old. If you're past your toddler years, it's not quite so cute. When I was a kid, fat kids had to get their clothes from the "Chubby Girls" or "Husky Boys" sections of clothing at the stores. Even those sugar coated terms are forbidden these days. So far, through sheer luck, I've managed to avoid graduating to "plus-sized" sections of stores. Slowly but surely, I see myself headed in that direction. Muffin tops on ol' wimmen aren't at all cute. Mostly they're a giant wad of flabby girthage hanging down in front that wraps clear around back...into...

Love Handles - Such a romantic sound, right? Andre the Giant fist-sized wads of fat right above the ol' hip bone. Welcome to the club if you can't locate your hipbone visually anywhere on your body. You know it's there...you just can't see it...and haven't for many, many years. Unfortunately for many of us, the love handles blend un-sveltely into the...

GynormAss - Some of us get this. I don't know why. We'll have all this normal size fat on top but from the bottom of our waist, explode into the GynormAss. Where does it come from? And, more importantly, how do we get rid of it? Sometimes it forms a ledge around the back of our butt. Maybe its there to use as a seat to pack kids around on...you know, like monkeys carry their kids around on their backs? A little ledge to them from sliding off, because unlike monkeys or apes our little cuties don't know how to hang on for dear life.

Saddlebags - Doesn't sound quite as cute as muffin top, does it? Sounds like something you'd have to lug around. A load to be carried...which they are. Some women have giant saddlebags packed chock full of fat...and you don't even have to have a GynormAss to have giant saddlebags.  You don't see too many men with saddlebags, do you? Why is that? How come men don't have saddlebags? Or Gynormasses? They don't have those either.

Back Fat - Seriously, why do I have fat on my back? Why do you even have fat cells on your back? Does every place in your body have fat cells? I don't think I have any fat cells on my wrists or ankles. Sometimes women get a camel-like hump of fat at the base of the neck. Why in the world is that a place where fat would collect? Do they make turtleneck Spanx for this? And if they do, does it just squeeze the fat up into a double or triple chin? They have special bras now that are supposed to eliminate unsightly back fat. They usually smooth the back fat out but roll up under your boobs so you have a bra roll right under the uni-boob they create.

Armhole Fat - Generally connected to back fat, armhole fat is my current pet peeve. Not that I don't have some of the others, but armhole fat is really noticeable in sleeveless shirts. The other stuff can usually be blocked from sight by loose-fitting garments. And if you have armhole fat, and over four or five decades behind you, you probably have...

Upper Arm Flabulation - The half circle of flab that hangs down from elbow to armpit. Sometimes you don't even know you have this until you see a picture of yourself and are faced with the realization that you have a curtain swag of flabulation hanging from your arm. I saw a long-sleeved Spanx like crop top on an infomercial to keep this particular arm flab from jiggling. When they show these things, they never say that if they're tight enough to halt the swaying flabulation of your upper arm, they're probably squeezing things out the bottom of your bra area...making a reverse muffin top. If you want to look on the bright side, it would be a great Tic Tac or popcorn catcher for when you drop pieces down your shirt.

FUPA - This one had to be explained to me...you can Google it if, like me, you're a cultural imbecile. Heavy duty Spanx work here. They do, however, shove fat upwards into the muffin top area. But, all you glass half fuller's, they do make high waisted Spanx that go all the way to the bottom of your bra. Voila! Problem solved. No more laying down to zip your pants up!

Cankles - I'm not sure if you're born with cankles or if you develop them as you age. You know how some men are shaped so that it looks like they don't have a neck? Their head just seems to sit on their shoulders? That's kinda how cankles are...only way lower. Your calf just goes all the way to your foot. I'm not sure this is a fat related occurrence. But it's a thing...

I know that none of this is strictly "Old Chix" stuff. There's millions of "Young Chix" that have these things too. If I'm totally honest, when I see a Young Chix wearing some fashion forward outfit that does nothing to hide her lumpiness and flabulation, I may not always find it attractive, but I really love the balls it takes to wear it. These Young Chix have a self acceptance that was a rare thing when I was growing up.

After all these years, I've reached the point where I'm happy with clean and un-stinky...it's the Stoopidist Thing.