Chapter Five: Fun and Fitness

Ch. 5 Fun and Fitness

  

We considered ourselves a healthy, contemporary couple. We hiked, exercised, did yoga and even tried ballroom dancing. I discovered that I was not very coordinated. I tried to get Rob to take me golfing, but he refused and hid his clubs.

As a matter of fact, Rob and I first met at the gym. I was going through my Heath Ledger stage and immediately noticed Rob’s movie star face. I approached him after doing thirty minutes on the stair climber, forgetting that maybe “sweaty” wasn’t my best look. However, Rob was receptive. He also stated, “Actually people think I look more like Ben Affleck.”

Since we met one another in a gym setting, certain assumptions were made. I assumed that Rob was a non-smoker (wrong), that he always wore a seat belt (wrong again), and had no vices (wrong). He, in turn, thought that I was earthy, a non-drinker and a dog-lover. Assumptions can be deceiving, which was proven when we went on our first hike and climbed into an old stone bridge. I laughed at spray-painted words that read ‘I’m not as think as I drunk I am.’ Rob pointed and exclaimed, “Hey, I put that there in high school!”

Like most couples, we loved to cook, and loved to eat even more. After moving into our new home, we experienced a period of nesting. We’d prefer to stay home on Saturday nights and watch a DVD instead of going out. We’d prepare gourmet meals from the latest issue of Food & Wine. We’d come home on Fridays, arms laden with libations from the winery, with the simple plan of sipping it all night on the couch. These were the reasons, I told myself, for the dismal news my doctor gave me.

“Well, you seem to be in good health,” she said with a smile at my annual check up. “Blood pressure’s excellent. Although I guess you’re not happy about the weight gain.”

“What weight gain?” I asked.

“You’ve gained ten pounds since your last visit.”

I was stunned! Ten pounds? Truth be told, some of my clothes didn’t fit as well as they used to. I thought they’d shrunk. The doctor quickly added, “Oh honey, don’t worry about it. I chaperoned a high school trip to London last month and did so much walking, I was sure I’d lost weight. But instead I gained a few pounds.”

She added quietly, “It must have been the wine...”

I was dismayed. How did those malevolent ten pounds get there? I went home and lamented to anyone who would listen. 

“Ten pounds, Rob. Ten pounds! How did this happen?”

He stood there silently.

“You must’ve noticed,” I added. “You noticed and didn’t say anything?”

I threw my arms around him, “Thank you. Thank you for being the kind of man that notices and doesn’t say anything!”

I went on, “You know how this happened? We moved into the house and we got fat and happy!”

He broke out of his silence, nearly shouting, “I know! That’s why I’ve started going to the gym every day. Look at this, look at this.”

Rob lifted his shirt and pointed to his stomach. “I used to have a six-pack! Now I have a no-pack.”

“What are you complaining about? You’re stomach is practically concave.”

“Oh yeah, what’s this?” He pinched four centimeters of flesh between his fingers.

“It’s called skin. If you didn’t have it, your guts would fall out.”

I walked away. He couldn’t understand my plight. I was of a generation of women who’d given birth after gaining fifty pounds on a nine-month Sarah Lee binge. We had love handles elusively planted on our midsections, never to be removed. Due to a fashion conspiracy called low-cut jeans the terrible term ‘muffin tops’ came into being!

I even complained to my co-workers. Anyone over fifty chuckled at me, “Metabolism came to a screeching halt, eh? Yup. Been there.”

Feeling sorry for myself, I decided to go shopping. Ten minutes after I entered the store, while standing naked in front of a full-length mirror, I sent a desperate text message to my best friend, which read, “I’m in a dressing room in Old Navy and I FOUND THE EXTRA TEN POUNDS!”

Such is life. We all had our chance to be eighteen and svelte. When I saw my teenage daughter with a buttered roll in one hand and a Snickers bar in the other, I told her, “Enjoy it while you can!”

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