wake up, step up, pray up

    I wish I could say I find great joy in pushing aside my cutest high heels
and tying on my workout shoes. I also wish I didn't have to admit to a bad
aerobic attitude; I roll my eyes every time I tie on my tennies. If eye
rolls were aerobic, I would be one fit chick. I could just take the tennies
right back off, curl up in my warm bed, and snooze for another
forty minutes.
    No sleep after a wake-up call, though. The wake-up call came
the day before starting the new exercise program. I was trying to
squeeze into my new skirt (not too distantly related to that rebelliously
mocking little black dress). There was more hip action
trying to writhe into the skirt than I would even have dared put
into an exercise routine. Aerobic? Maybe. Pretty? I can't begin to
tell you how NOT pretty it was. Not pretty getting the skirt on.
Not pretty once it was on.
    I use the term ''on" loosely, because when I finally managed to
squirm into the skirt, I realized if I wanted to zip the thing, I could
only keep one of my buns. Who attached all the extra chub to my
backside? That's when I heard the alarm. Definite wake-up call.
Unless I was going in for at least a partial bun -ectomy, I would
have to be make lifestyle changes. Argh. Exercise.
So there it was, the first day of yet another new exercise routine.
One more of those ((first day of the rest of your life" things-only
not necessarily the pleasant kind.
     I thought about trying an outdoor regimen until I remembered
that not only does nature cause me to do a ''too hot" or ((too cold"
or ((too many bugs" whine, but putting on those last ten bun-pounds
had added a lot more wind resistance than I had before.