Chubby Fitness

chubby fitnessThursday, August 28, 2014

Today I am grateful for chubby fitness.  So I get up early this morning and pad around the house puttering at a few little things, tea, newspaper, yogurt. . .nothing to break a sweat.  Gimme a break.  It’s morning!

 

Then I turn on the TV and learn that some sadist has now invented a workout shirt, yes a SHIRT that will “inform” me if I’m breathing enough, eating too much, burning off too few calories, not working hard enough, blah, blah, blah.  I thought all of these years my bra, jeans, mirror and conscience took care of that.  I guess I was wrong.  Who knew?  Just what we chubby fitness folks need is something else to shame us!  At great cost.

 

Go ahead and buy one if you want to, but I won’t.  I don’t like my clothes dissing me.  I can self-flagellate very well by myself, thank you.  My clothes just need to shut up!  I didn’t buy Wii fitness either.  It seemed like a good idea at first and then someone told me that when you step on the pad it criticizes you if you’ve gained an ounce.  I didn’t want to give the thing laryngitis screaming at me.  Hey, I did it a favor. . .and me.

 

No, I won’t buy something that thinks its job is to remind me to breathe!  I learned to breathe a long, long time ago.  Every day when I get up I’m still breathing.  I might sound like a person without a goal, but breathing every day is good enough for me!  Sometimes if I feel stressed or sad, I’ll even deep breathe seven times in, hold to a seven count, breathe out counting seven.  So I can breathe and count to seven.  Countries were formed and lost on less!

 

Keep your lousy, yammering shirt.  Go invent a cure for cancer, unwanted facial hair and idiot drivers!  Stop wasting my time!   I am grateful that I am a member of the chubby fitness group and won’t feel one bit compelled to buy one.  I might have extra cellulite, but I also have a brain!  Anyway, will this stupid shirt come in a XXXXXXXXLLLLL!?  No?  Yeah, that’s what I thought!  Cowards!  Breathe. . .breathe. . .breathe. . .

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Big Red Chair

Phila - Mary in big chair Phila - John in red chairWednesday, August 27, 2014

Today I am grateful for a Big Red Chair.  My husband and I took another of our day treks to Philadelphia yesterday and had a blast.  Expect a couple of future posts on this day because we sure did pack a lot into it.

 

One of the highlights was after we picked up our son, Matt and he directed us to the new Spruce Street Mecca, near the Hyatt on the Delaware River.  It’s not called Mecca, but that’s what it is.

 

As we walked around, Matt said, “Let me take your picture in the special chair.”  I looked around and saw a lot of brightly colored chairs, but none looked particularly special.  I squealed when I saw it.  “An Edith Anne chair!” I shouted, shinnying myself into it and striking a pose.  My son looked for a nearby rock to hide under.  Others looked at me like I was nuts.  But I’m sure some of you remember when Lily Tomlin sat in a huge rocker, dressed like a little girl and told stories about her family before blowing raspberries at us.  Pbpll-bpblll-spit!  You must!

 

I am grateful I had the opportunity to sit in an enormous, lipstick-red, Adirondack chair, which catapulted me back to a happy time in my childhood when Saturday Night Live gestated some of the greatest comics of our time and life was so much easier.  Himself. . . the pouty little boy?  He’s just happy he could get in it. . .and out!

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Ballgown-purple

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Award Shows

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Today I am grateful for Awards Shows.  Mostly because of the dresses! When else can a chub like me sit and diss about how she’s showing too much cleavage, or that one should put a damned barrette in to keep her too long bangs out of her lip gloss?

 

I record all of the award shows.  That way I’m not forced to listen to some idiot banter on about all of the people who “made me what I am.”  Face it pal, a lot of it was dumb luck, otherwise all of us dreamers would be there standing in your exact spot.  Shut up and move on to the next dress.  Fast Forward.  Bring on the babes!  Oooo, what was she thinking?  You’re a size 0, honey!  Zero!  Null!  Nothing!  And you’re wearing enough RED fabric for twelve of you. A bit overpowering, don’t you think, babe?

 

I have never seen the show “Orange is the new Black” but, ah, note to designers. . .when using orange and black together the eye immediately thinks pumpkins and Halloween.  I’m not against a plunging neckline, but honey, when you’re “girls” are no longer able to pass the pencil test and can clutch a log without it slipping out, give it up.  No, yank it up.  Which brings me to yanking.  If you can’t wear strapless without tugging on that sucker every time the camera is on you, then don’t.  And stay away from the bandeau, uni-boob bodice.  It’s not flattering on anyone.  If you’re too skinny, and most of you are, you will look like you’re wearing an elbow ace bandage.  If you’re too chubby, like me, too much will be trying to stuff into too little a space and the fallout will be nuclear. 

 

 

Speaking of chubby, it’s always nice to see a couple of full-figured gals sporting fashion.  It takes guts to be big and wear white chiffon, and sleeveless, even if you aren’t expecting a win and wind up in the back row while the tuxes speak prophetic.  If you got it, flaunt it. . .within reason.  Wear color.  It’s okay.  Black will not make you look like you’re a size 10 anyway so go for it.  Or wear a flowing printy, caftany thingy, like Kathy Bates did.  She can play me in the movie of my life any day!

 

I’d also recommend avoiding styles that incorporate engineering into the design.  Sophia Vergara is gorgeous, but oh my. . .that bodice worked HARD!  That bodice worked overtime.  That bodice should get double-time-and-a-half!  That bodice must have been exhausted by the end of the night.  An erector set made that bodice.  There were probably thousands of “erector” sets watching, too, praying for an engineering malfunction of Brooklyn Bridge proportions!

 

I’m glad it’s not the 60’s and 70’s anymore.  I got sick of everyone trying to look like they just hopped off the VW bus from Woodstock and couldn’t be bothered with something as meaningless as an award because Mother Earth would not be pleased. Blch! Boring!

 

Gimme the glitz, the exotic designs, the actually styled hair, the makeup, and the shoes.  I want the whole magilla.  Then give me good posture.  Because without that you all look like schlumps anyway.  Without posture you might as well be wearing off the rack and I’m not talking Sophia’s rack!  My favorite dress at the 2014 Emmy’s was Katherine Heigl.  Simple.  Beautiful neckline.  Elegant.  Smashing.  And good posture.

 

I cry at award shows.  Every one.  I always cry when people are seeing their dreams come true.  Always.  I want my dreams to come true. I cry over that, too.  I watch the writers, who no one cares about accepting awards and I know, just like they all know, that the actors would be nothing without them.  Nothing.  It all starts with a good story.  And the camera man and crew and people who scout locations and feed them. . .everyone is important and they know it which is why they yammer on and on while I’m fast forwarding.  I get it.  I just don’t want to listen to it.  But I’ll do it, too, when I win.   

 

I am grateful for awards shows, so I can start designing my dress.  Purple, I think.  Or maybe a deep green which would make my eyes look greener.  Simple, comfortable, not clingy.  Not sleeveless because I wouldn’t want my condor wings to hurt anyone on my way up the steps.  I’m not injecting lips or taping down body parts.  I’m wearing flats with a dress long enough to cover them. . .Or maybe pink.  No one wears a nice pink.  I look good in pink.  And in my awards speech I’ll be thankful for all of you.  Because you knew me when.

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House Hunters International

House Hunters InternationalMonday, August 25, 2014

Today I am grateful for the TV show House Hunters International.  I have an insatiable urge to travel without the financial means to support my passion.  Don’t get me wrong, I love where I live, but I love it the most when coming back from a trip.

 

I would take three or four serious vacations a year if I had the means.  On the bucket list are a cruise to Alaska; a couple of weeks in Vancouver with a drive down the California coast; fishing and breathing the air in New Zealand; a couple of months in the Tuscany region of Italy; a trek through the little villages of France; a tango tour of Argentina and Brazil; a river cruise on the Danube; any cliff in Greece facing the Aegean Sea; and. . .oh my, just anywhere and everywhere!

 

I’m very fortunate that for a while, a long time ago, I was able to travel to exotic locals and even live in one for three years.  I will always be grateful for the experiences that Jakarta, Indonesia presented to me.  But traveling for me is like chocolate. . .once I took that first bite. . .I was hooked!  Now I’m in travel detox! There should be a twelve-step program for this addiction.

 

So I record House Hunters International and travel the world, if only for thirty minutes from my living room.  It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s not bad, either.  I never have to feel like a hostage as the man on the plane next to me picks the scabs off his bald head.  Yes, this happened to me. . .for 8 hours. . .and he examined each scab before. . .

 

There are no lines.  My imagination gives me the heat and buzzing noise of the markets.  I can smell the food if it looks good and don’t have to if it doesn’t.  The bed is always comfortable.  My feet aren’t bloody stumps from marching along cobblestones. It’s certainly affordable.  Hmmm, where should I go today?  The Amalfi Coast?  Asuncion, Paraguay? Wiesbaden, Germany? Bucharest, Romania?  Santorini, Greece?  The world is mine through House Hunters International and I am grateful.

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Mr. Ed

Mr. Ed smiling Mr. Ed & WilburSunday, August 24, 2014

Today I am grateful for Mr. Ed.  Unless you watch old TV shows or are a baby boomer, like me, you won’t know who I’m talking about.  Google it.  This morning I didn’t have a clue what I would write about so, I called my mom to chat.  Here’s how it went.

 

Me – Hi, Mom.  Whatcha doing?

Mom – Oh not much.

Me – Can you please turn the TV down so I can hear you?

Mom – I just did.  I’m watching Mr. Ed.  (Lots of out loud laughs – I can’t do LOL if it’s my mom because that doesn’t cover it.  I have to write it out.)

Me – Mr. Ed?  Should I be worried about you?

Mom – Hey, he makes as much sense as anybody else on that stupid TV!

Me – Hah!  I still know the theme song.

Mom – Whoopee!

Me – (Here’s where I sang the entire theme song for the Mr. Ed Show to her – I’ll spare you, but ask me when I see you and I’ll do it again. Bet you can’t wait.)

 

My mom loves Mr. Ed’s goofy mouth and yucking smile.  “How did they make him do that?” she asks. She loves how he’s always looking around for a “filly”.  She thinks the person who created this show staring a talking-horse is brilliant.

 

I told her I would rather listen to Mr. Ed (who never spoke unless he had something to say) than most of the politicians, these days.  She agreed.  They never know when to shut up and most of them have nothing new to say!  Come to think of it, a lot of them are always looking over the fence for another “filly”, too.  The only conclusion I can draw is that politicians are mimicking Mr. Ed. . .and making him look bad!  Especially the ones who seem to talk out of the wrong body part, getting the front and back end mixed up!  Mr. Ed would kick them good!  Right through the barn wall.

 

So today I am grateful for Mr. Ed.  Wouldn’t he curl his lip up in a big old grin and holler, “Wiiihhhhllllllllburrrrrr?!  Do you know after all these years. . . I’m still famous!?”  My mom is making sure.

 

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Marriage

Marriage - Shane & DanielSaturday, August 23, 2014

Today I am grateful for marriage.  No, it’s not our anniversary.  It is the wedding day for a couple of great guys, Shane and Daniel, who are surrounded by family and friends, preparing to take their vows today in California.

 

I like the idea of marriage.  It is a true commitment to each other, usually public and spiritual, but you don’t have to be married in a church to make it valid.  And just because it’s not in a church does not mean it can’t be spiritual.  The Spirit is with me always.   You do not have to throw a huge party to make it valid, either, yet traditionally that’s the way it goes.  Traditions change. So does marriage.  Every minute of every day.

 

Why shouldn’t same sex couples who are committed to each other be given the same opportunities as the rest of us?  Must we “breeders” hoard all of the joys of marriage?  They should have to listen to the same old story from their spouse for the millionth time. . .or go crazy when they have to shut the exact same cabinet door a billion times. . .or turn off lights he/she always leaves on. . .or  send a search party for the remote control. . .or adjust the thermostat up and down a hundred times a day, then pretend it wasn’t you doing it. . .or argue about vacations and family and food and where they’ll spend Thanksgiving.  Heterosexuals can share.  There is definitely enough crazy to go around.

 

Everywhere you look people are harping on building the “team”.  What better team is there than marriage?  No back-up players.  No second string.  No relief pitchers.  No stand-ins.  No understudies.  Just two people, sharing their hopes and dreams for a future that will change by the minute and direct them to places they’ve never dreamed.  Two people with challenges and successes and sadness and joy, who want to share their commitment to each other with the world, honest and straight forward, no longer hiding behind archaic principles.  Two people who want to make it legal and share their hearts, their shampoo, their finances, their remote controls and their thermostats in marriage.  I’m all for them. . .and I really don’t care what gender they are.

 

So today I am grateful for marriage, with all of its ups-n-downs, hot-n-cold, better-or-worse, sickness-n-health, death-do-us-part-but-keep-your-mitts-off-my-chocolate, corny commitment.  Congratulations Shane and Daniel.  Show ‘em!  Just show ‘em!

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