All posts by Iris

For Health’s Vanity’s Sake

Me and My Life

After a winter spent basically hibernating, unable to make myself move when even the weather couldn’t muster the get-up-and-go to supply me with more than about 45 minutes of sunlight per day, or temperatures above zero, or really any sign that it cared for my well-being, I’ve decided I need to jump start my exercise routine for Spring. By pure luck, I’m not a blimp right now, but I do have a wedding to be in this Spring, and I’d prefer to look really good for that. After all, there will surely be pictures taken, and I’m not above a little petty vanity.

So yesterday I bought a book that my mom recommended. It promises results if I do it’s 20-minute routine twice a week. If there’s one thing I hate more than being weak, it’s exercising, so this sounds like a pretty enticing promise to me. And besides, my mom says it’s working really well for her, so I can glibly gloss over the “Wow! Only 40 minutes a week!” reaction and concentrate on the “It’ll make me really strong” reaction, right? I thought so. And because it’ll make me really strong, and because that’s good for my health, and because almost anything is worth it when it comes to health (don’t question that… the logic works perfectly, thank you very much), I shelled out the big bucks for the hardcover book that will teach me the exercises I need to know.

Unfortunately, I also need weights and an exercise ball, so today I went hunting and gathering for those items. Target had some exercise balls, but no really good colors, which was disappointing. (Don’t ask why the color of my exercise ball is important to me. I’d tell you if only I knew.) There was a drab grey ball with a huge company name plastered across one side. That was out. There was a deep red one, and I like deep red, but again the company figured I might not get the full value from the product unless the company name was prominently and gigantically displayed on said product. Still… it was deep red. But then there was a light green ball with only the smallest company name stamped unobtrusively on one side. I didn’t like the green quite as much as the red, and the green one also came with a stretchy band and two DVDs, so it was about twice as expensive as the red one… but it didn’t yell its company affiliation at me, so I bought it, DVDs and stretchy band and all.

This just left the weights. I was looking for 5-pound weights to complement the 10-pounders that I already own. But Target only had stupid weights. Sure, they had 5-pounders, but they were “designer” weights or something. They had special plastic holes where your hands go, or they were oblong, or they were multi-colored in pink and fuchsia. Seriously, I’d never be able to look directly at pink/fuchsia oblong designer weights. So I left with only the exercise ball and went to K-Mart.

I’ve only ever been to K-Mart once before because I get sad just by walking into the place. It sits like a forlorn little island in a sea of empty parking lot, and it’s insides make it look more like a loading dock than a store. It’s even given up caring that most of its shelves are only partially stocked. But it did have two brands of weights for me to choose from: the “I’m a weight; got a problem with that” brand with the octagonal metal ends on a metal bar, and the squatter dumbbells covered in foamy stuff. Of course, the foamy ones are twice as expensive, but the 5-pounders were also deep blue, and I like deep blue. I’m trying to concentrate on the fact that they’re also easier to hold. Surely that’s why I shelled out 6.50 for them rather than the 2.99 for the stripped down version.

Well, now I’m home, have successfully inflated the exercise ball (which took half an hour, even with a bicycle pump, and which I’m counting as my cardio for the day), have decided that the light green isn’t a bad color after all, and have laid out my deep blue weights neatly next to the 10-pound weights. (By the way, Pippin does not approve of the exercise ball.) But the magical exercise program says I should plan on doing the routine on Mondays and Thursdays, and today is Wednesday. The way I see it, there’s nothing for it, I’ll just have to kick back and relax for the evening and wait until tomorrow to start. And anyway, I’ve already inflated an exercise ball today, so that should count for something.

Somebody please pass me the cookies and the remote.

Elite

Portraits of People and Places

A sign stood in the middle of the open space near the ticket counter. On its left lay a red carpet, neatly lined on its two long sides by dividing ropes. On its right lurked a blank expanse of standard grey airport carpeting. The sign, standing there to warn the masses not to sully the red carpet without authorization, carried two messages. “Elite Customer Boarding” leaned out toward the red carpet, and announced itself in cheery red lettering. On the right side of its divided face, “General Boarding” sat as a grim, grey reproach to those clearly didn’t care about their travel experience and who probably preferred balancing check books or shushing babies in supermarket checkout lines to frolicking on beaches or petting puppies.

“This way lies freedom from bureaucratic lines, suspicious scrutiny of identity, and hoi polloi, particularly those polloi over there with the 5 children, all of whom are hungry and two of whom have colds,” the cheery red letters seemed to say. “We know you’re elite at heart,” the sign crooned, “You care for the finer things, and for puppies, and if you saw a friend in need we know you’d take the time to help them out. You are not chattel. We know this. But until you ask for an upgrade, we can’t release you to the service level you deserve, nay, are entitled to. We’re sure you understand.”

As the moment of boarding approached, waiting passengers got up from their seats, checked for their boarding passes, calculated whether the letter following their row numbers would land them in the dreaded middle seat, and began to hover a respectful distance from the sign. Most hovered just to the right of the sign, not to encroach on the space reserved for the elite among them. No red carpet would ease their transition onto the gangway. No dividing ropes would usher them toward the plane in three feet of segregated splendor.

“We will now begin boarding our elite members,” the gate agent intoned. Everyone looked up expectantly, waiting to see who would be so privileged. Most shuffled even a few feet farther back from the bifurcated sign.

And then it happened. The privileged few stepped out from the crowds and walked carefully past their soon-to-be fellow passengers, past the gate counter, past the grey space that would soon herd the General boarders onto the gangway, and past the sign. Turning 120 degrees to the right, they stepped carefully onto the red carpet, between the dividing ropes, and walked along it diagonally back toward the gate counter to present their elite tickets to the gate agent before boarding the plane.

It was well worth the extra 10 feet of walking.

Crazy Things That Got Invented: Number 2793

Randomness

I hate lipstick, lip balm, lip gloss, or anything else that begins with “lip” and involves applying anything to the named area. You’d think this would bother me because it’s essentially like eating wax and make-up, but actually that’s not bulk of the problem. No, the problem is that it feels odd, tastes icky, and smells bad (even if you get unscented lip[stuff]). Seriously, who’s idea was it to perfume lipstick? Did nobody look at a human face and realize that the nose is in the near vicinity of the lips? Even people who wear perfume don’t generally anoint their upper lips. They generally perfume things far away from their noses, like wrists.

And why don’t people seem to care that it tastes terrible? I mean… lips and mouths are pretty connected, and tongues (generally located inside of mouths) happen to be the parts of us that do most of our tasting. A couple of brands seem to have tried to remedy this by flavoring their lip[stuff], but that’s really no better. I don’t like fake fruit taste even in foods, so I’m definitely not a fan of fake fruits infused with wax and dust and silly putty.

Speaking of silly putty, lips are some of the most touch-sensitive areas on our bodies. You think they won’t notice a layer of stuff sitting on them?

Not only that, but it comes off, and you have to reapply it, and then it tastes, smells, and feels weird again. Personally, I prefer to do my hair and get made up once per day at the most. More than that is just annoying.

So if I do wear lip[stuff], I’ll apply it once and then figure it’s had it’s chance for the day. And I will do this occasionally, though I don’t know why. But most of the time I’ll just conveniently forget that part of the morning routine.

In Search of My Good Habits

Me and My Life

There’s too much to do in a day to have to think about everything. Some things have to be committed to habit status or they just won’t get done. If I have to remember to floss my teeth, I’ll never want to, or have enough time, or just plain get around to it. But if flossing my teeth is just the automatic last phase of eating a meal, then it happens all the time and I rarely give it a second thought.

But an odd thing happens when life gets crazy. Just when I need my habits the most, they leave me and retreat to calmer pastures where they can watch from a safe distance as I flounder through the day. Things like taking my vitamins, or flossing, or taking walks, or doing my crunches, or making a salad just fall by the wayside.

Well, I’ve come through a busy patch. Or rather, I’ve come through the worst of a busy patch that began last August and will end sometime in early June (if all goes well). So today I began the process of reinstating all of my good habits. Today, that meant thinking reminding myself to do a lot of things, and I’ll probably be forced to think hard about these little tasks all week, but hopefully by sometime next week I’ll be back to automatically taking my vitamins in the morning and doing my crunches in the evening.

Wish me luck!

No, But Thanks for Asking

Me and My Life

A competing rental property in town sent out a handy postcard. Or rather, they sent it to Resident, who apparently lives in this apartment, too. “Need a change of scenery?” the postcard asks. Then it offers the competing company’s rental properties as alternatives to this one, and it finishes up with this promise:

This postcard is worth a great deal bring it with you for $200 off your first months rent for qualified applicants, some restrictions apply.

Yes, I copied that down faithfully. And no, this does not inspire me with confidence that this other management company is any more intelligent than my current one is. My current property manager prefers fonts and colors to clarity and argument, and it prefers to make new rules rather than work with individual residents to correct inappropriate behavior. But so far my current property manager hasn’t butchered the English language to quite this extent.