Bat Wings

As summer vacation drew to a close, I took a hard look at myself.   I am not speaking on the emotional plane, I mean I got in front of the mirror and really looked; part dermatologist, part CSI.  The gal staring back was a bit hag-licious but happy: sun damaged hair, sunscreen-clogged pores, and few regrets after a summer of fun with Lucy and Macy.  I wouldn’t change a thing.  Except maybe my arms.

My summer yoga practice is the “yoga of letting go.”  Rather than practicing vinyasas, I practice breathing and mindfulness while I hang out with Lucy and Macy.  I am not sure which practice is more difficult, but I am very clear on which practice will leave you flabby.

With our reunion looming and my arms sagging, I quickly turned to my dear friend Sissy and the Christmas present that has long since grown dusty – the Tracy Anderson Mat Workout Video.  Do you know of Tracy Anderson?  You simply must.  Not because I am recommending that you do this workout.  Rather, grab a beer and some popcorn and just watch.  She is hilarious.  TA (that’s what I call her) has pouty lips and a range of sexy expressions that can’t be matched.  And a bit of an attitude - as if maybe she is a bit too cool to appear in her own workout video.

I won’t lie.  I have made half hearted attempts.  But now I have a better plan: Rather than doing all these arm exercises; which may or may not work but will definitely hurt, the smarter pursuit would be to mimic Tracy Anderson’s facial expressions.  If I can master her pouty lips and hair fling (I may need extensions) no one will even look at my arms.

Blogger’s note: I hope that after reading this far, you are thinking something like, “Good grief, Callie needs to get over it.  There is real sh@t going down in this world.”  Yes.  Yes, there is.  Now take that finger that you are wagging at your computer screen and point it right back at yourself, my friend.  I humiliated myself with this blog on purpose so that we could collectively move past the BS.  What silly things are you worrying about?   What bits of mental pond scum could prevent you from having real, meaningful encounters?  Banish these thoughts. Shake them away with your flabby arms!  BE GONE!!