Monday, June 8, 2009

Flapping Asses And Arms, Yo

When your ass flaps against the backs of your legs, you know it's time to hit the gym.

And, as luck would have it, I looked up "ass flap" in the dictionary, and guess who I saw? That's right. Me. With my ass, hitting the backs of my legs like there's no tomorrow.

There was no better time than Saturday to witness this amazing event, as I spent the better part of the day gardening. That's right. I gardened my entire front area, including three largish pots, the entire front of the steps, and I also put down a bag full of black mulch, because I saw it at someone's house last week and liked it enough to remember it. I thought it looked awesome, and would therefore make my house and garden look awesome as well. That's how it works, isn't it?




As I tilled the soil and got my hands extremely dirty (well, mostly my right hand, because I tend to use one hand more than the other, and I also tend to unconsciously keep one hand clean when doing dirty tasks. No, I don't know why), I let the sun bake my cold and withered body, and I slowly took off layers of clothing as the air warmed up around me. It was a nice change. So nice, in fact, that I didn't notice the day fly by, and the body slowly feel more and more stiff. I was actually enjoying my physical labour, which is a rare occasion indeed.


At one point, I walked over to the front bay window, which basically covers half the front of our home, and waved at Mr. Handsome and Dee, who were comfy inside playing Wii tennis and screaming like men do when they are competing (and when aren't they). As I waved, the lower half of my upper arm jiggled like nothing I've ever seen before. It was almost like that whole section of my arm was filled with jelly. It scared me. But it scared Dee and Mr. Handsome even more, because they started holding their heads and screaming, "Noooo!! Go away!!! Stop it!!! How can your arm do that?!" And then they passed out and I had to run inside and revive them with the Heimlich maneuvre or something.

The front bed, replete with black mulch. Please ignore the weeds and dandelions visible to the right.


The bridal veil spirea is in full resplendant bloom. We are, at the moment, the envy of the neighbourhood. The next rain or slight wind, however, and we will once again be the black sheep.

As a matter of course, that tiny arm-jiggling episode made me then think of my loose ass folds, and how and when did my ass lose all its plumpness and "holdability" -- its vital unity -- and become one huge piece of stray material, hitting the backs of my legs as I walk. Even when I wear tightish jeans that you would think would hold the entire Body Of The Ass together, they don't. Because somehow, ass portions progressively leak out and again begin touching the backs of my legs.

My entire gardening day, which should have been a day of glee and happines, became a day of wonder and consternation, as I tried to figure out how my body fell apart in such a way. Everytime I moved to plant another flower, or move some soil from one area to another, I was reminded of my body's failings.

I then woke up Sunday feeling like a two-ton earth-moving machine had run over me about 317 times in a row. My muscles were sore, my sacrum screamed in pain, my patellas were swollen and my sacroiliac joints felt like they'd been jabbed by hot pokers all night long.

And then my son looked at my thigh, which happened to be exposed as I half lay on the couch, whimpering, and he said, "Look at that! What is that?!?!"

And I said, "What? What are you yelling about?"

And he said, "Your leg! Look at those lumps all over it when I squeeze. What is that?"

To which Mr. Handsome promptly replied, "Cellulite."



To which I should have said, "Umm, why the hell are you squeezing my thigh in the first place?", but to which I did not say anything, because in this house, these things pass as normal.

All of this to say that I think it's time I hit the gym, guys. Enough with the excuses. I am entering middle age, and I need to start worrying about my health a little more. Arthritis is what it is, and it limits me, for sure, but I know I can still go and do a modified work-out.

God knows what's going to fall next if I don't.
________________________________________
By the way, today's a special day for one of my special friends. Say Happy Birthday to my buddy B! You know who you are, buddy old pal. He's old, way way older than me, and always will be. And I like to remind him of that on a very regular basis.
Yes, lunch is on me. Yes, you can have a beer. No, you cannot have dessert. I only have one hour, and not enough money.


17 comments:

Beth said...

When I saw the title, I thought you were making fun of me.

I recently took up running. I really want a runner's physique - no boobs and no butt. One out of two ain't bad, right?

glummum said...

I had such a muffin top with my jeans, I refused to let homer see me get dressed. I got to the point it was either shape up or buy larger clothes. I decided to shape up. I know if I really worked out, I could get the bikini bod, but I am really just happy losing the muffin top.

I've been walking about a mile, mile and a half Don't know what km that would be : ) on hills, fast. It gets my heart beating and makes my legs hurt. At least I am feeling better......

and the muffin top is shrinking and I might just have to buy new shorts, in a smaller size : ) It took me years to buckle down and do this...I'm glad I finally am.

You can do it too.....I know you can.

Yaya said...

Happy Birthday B!

Good luck at the gym.

You are too funny...ass flaps and black sheep...lol!

mo.stoneskin said...

It's clearly a fortunate thing that you remembered how to do the Heimlich manoeuvre...further proof that it is worth paying attention at school.

Sarah Lulu said...

I'm hoping my flapping arms will morph into angel wings ....because my halo slipped ages ago.

WELCOME TO MY WORLD OF POETRY: said...

A lovely refreshing blog, also pics to match. I too am in need of excercise as I have osteo arthitis mainly in my knees, also by back is weak due to an operation on a disc many many years ago, but that's no excuse for me not to excercise but's that's the excuse I'm using.
Have a nice day.

Yvonne.

Gaston Studio said...

LOL! Familiar with the flapping arms and am sure will become familiar with the flapping ass syndrome. Yeah, I know, should but out the midnight cookies and milk.

Em said...

I've often thought about taking up landscaping as a profession - dude, my body would rock.

But alas, I do not, and can join you in the FA&A club.

Your garden is simply gorgeous though - and yes, I envy your spirea as well!!

(sorry I haven't been around a lot - I need to do it more because I simply adore your writing.)

CDP said...

"Cellulite sucks and then you die": ha ha ha! Very funny post.

ReformingGeek said...

Good Luck with the fitness program. Yoga might help the arthritis a bit. But, bottom line, find something you like and stick with it!

I love the flapping ass description!

ReformingGeek said...

I forget to say that your garden looks nice. Good job even if it gave you a pain the ass.

♥Trina♥ said...

The garden looks GREAT! Want to come do mine?? The pay isn't too good, but I'll offer some fantastic southern hospitality.

If I were to spend a day gardening, I would not be able to move the next day! I love the feeling of getting the job accomplished, but dang...the aches and pains that come with it stink!

Arm flap...I need to get my weights back out and get busy. I don't have much of an ass to flap.

Michel said...

If you find the cure for the ass flaps and arm jello, pls advise IMMEDIATELY.

And when I say "cure" I mean that does not involve diet and exercise.

I'm not so into that.

~Thought's By Dena~ said...

oh Im the master of flappy ass and arms!!!

Miss Thystle said...

Forget the gym and buy some Spanx and 3/4 sleeve shirts.

Southern Sage said...

dang!
it looks like that thigh was left out in a hail storm!
hehe

Deb said...

interesting that i came to a similar conclusion this past weekend, when i spotted cellulite on my ARMS. sorry, but my grossness trumps yours.


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