Posted By FarmerJ on September 10, 2011

It’s truly a sad state of affairs when you struggle to do ten situps!  As someone I adore always says, “Oh my socks!”  Before moving to the flatland, I would have said I was in better than average shape thanks to our Geocaching efforts.  There’s something about climbing to the summit of every nearby mountain that gets and keeps the ol’ flab firm.  This flat prairie doesn’t offer the same kind of workout.  Apparently.

So, I’m on a quest to divest myself of 15 pesky, greatly unwanted pounds ~ completely unsupported by my Darling Husbie, mind you.  He doesn’t think I need to lose any weight.  Anyway, not only do I need to shed the sticks of butter on the ol’ thunder thighs, but I need to firm up the ol’ gut, too.

What better way to firm up the gut than good old fashioned situps, yes?  Um, yeah.  The first day I did them, I struggled to do ten.  Well, in all fairness, it’s probably been about five years since I’ve even done a situp.  No worries.  I’ll just do sets of ten throughout the day, right?  Um, no.  I didn’t do any more that first day.  By the next day, my sorry flabby abs were mocking me to the point it hurt to pick up the laundry basket.  Like I said…a sad state of affairs.

Determined ~ like I’ve been known to be a time or two [Husbie might call it stubbornness] ~ on the third day, sorry abs still reminding me I’m old and out of shape, I set out…er…rather, laid out to do another set of ten situps.  Oh my socks, how pathetic I am!  By the time I got three done, those flabby gut muscles were burnin’ and taunting me like there would be no tomorrow.  I didn’t give in, though.  I kept going.  I won’t go into how long it took me to knock out that final situp.  However, I think it’d be safe to say Husbie could have probably finished an entire chapter in his book.

That final situp took every ounce of energy I had in me.  Oh, it hurt so bad…er…good.  I think I heard something tear in my shoulder on that last one, too.  The strain of trying to heave myself up, and all.  Sad, I tell you.  Pure pathetic-ness right there.

So, while my beloved husband can knock out 98 situps, 108 pushups, 108 flutter kicks and run 2 miles all in less than 45 minutes, I struggle to knock out 10 measly situps.  Yep.  He’s my Army soldier stud, and I’m…well…I’m a flabby dud!

Onward and upward, though!  Just as soon as my abs stop hurting.  ♥

Categories: Plainly Ponderings
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