Illustration by Jan A. Igoe
This is the time of year when I most envy bears. After months of hibernation—without moving so much as one furry muscle—bears all over the world are waking up skinny and ready for the National Geographic swimsuit edition. No gyms, no Zumba, no spin bikes and no cellulite.
Human females are not so fortunate, especially the ones who bid goodbye to their youth several grandkids ago. For us (I mean “for them”), fighting flab is a nonstop battle fought year-round. It’s pretty amazing how mature women can put on weight eating nothing but celery stalks. The fat fairy hears us crunching and waits till sundown to sprinkle a few pounds of night flab on every female over 40. Unlike bears, we have no trouble gaining weight in our sleep.
Fitness has been a challenge for mankind pretty much since dinosaurs stopped chasing us. Cave men (and women) didn’t have to worry about logging 10,000 steps-a-day, but now everyone does—from Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson to the Pillsbury Doughboy. Does that seem fair to you? I’d advocate for deducting 1,000 steps for every decade you’ve survived past 30. Maybe knock off another 500 for every kid you've hatched, 250 for grands and 750 for each prescription drug you take. (Pretty soon, they’ll end up owing us steps.)
Beyond the step thing, the biggest challenge for mature women is finding the right exercise program. You need one you’ll stick to that will get you moving without dislodging any titanium parts. And I found it.
The class is not fancy. It’s your basic thong-free zone where polyester pants and loose, long-sleeve blouses are the predominant fashion statement, although a couple of us refuse to give up leggings no matter who they frighten. Most of the women could go straight to the lunch buffet at Golden Corral without changing outfits. It’s not like anybody moves fast enough to sweat.
We use light, wussy weights and resistance bands. There’s music and cardio, stretching and kvetching. The moves are designed to improve balance so we won’t tip over when we’re out waddling around Target. Somewhere along the line, remaining upright becomes a worthy fitness goal. One minute you’re mastering Bruce Lee’s Dragon Flag move, the next, you’re struggling to touch your knee with your hand. And it doesn’t count if you can do it with other body parts.
Last week, our class moved outside to the pavilion, where we attracted something no one expected: an audience. A couple of Korean War veterans (they had the ball caps) brought their brown bag breakfasts to the picnic area, where they had a great view of the show. A few minutes later, it seemed like they’d multiplied. Every picnic table was packed with elderly, easily amused males. Remember that scene from The Birds when all the crows gathered around the school? It was like that.
Rattled by our new fan club, especially the guys who were taking videos, some women mumbled about “perverts” while others checked to see who drove up in a Mercedes. From a distance, with a hint of dementia and severe cataracts, they might have mistaken us for the Rockettes. Anyway, they applauded.
I kind of like our new fan club. As long as my legging seams hold (another Pillsbury Dough reference) and we don’t end up going viral on TikTok, I remain committed to my fitness plan. According to my calculations, today’s goal is 35 steps.
Jan A. Igoe avoided exercise and hibernated during most of the pandemic, so her return to fitness is very humbling. Exercise tips and horror stories are always welcome at HumorMe@SCLiving.coop.