I must shamefully confess that I do posses the instant-gratification, quick-fix, one-step mentality when it comes to certain things. Falling in love, for instance. It should be just like it is in the movies. Walk into the crowded cafe, catch the eye of your future dreamboat and the matter is concluded. I’m also of that mind for getting in shape. Which is why I’m not.

I’ve cycled a lot weight-wise and am currently in the sorta-fat range. Not as large as I have been at earlier points in my life, but also not as svelte as in previous incarnations. A lot of it is stress. I know it and accept it. I’ve been under a smoldering trash heap of stress for a very long time and stress tends to shut me down. I lose interest in doing things and wind up spending unhealthy amounts of time just sitting on the couch working on the computer and watching television. When I’m not Anxiety Annie, I like to do my crafts, go out walking with my camera, get things done around the house… all of which keep the activity level up enough to keep the pounds at bay. Subtract that meager bit of effort from my days and the fatty creeping terror begins to take over. I’m rolling into the level of plumpitude that has finally spurred a little motivation to take steps to shed some excess cargo.

Of the very little I brought from my condo when I moved, one item was my exercise bike. I had a beautiful, expensive treadmill and a very high-quality weight machine and both are now being melted down somewhere to make cheap forks and license plates. They were too big to put in this place and would have cost plenty to move, so I sacrificed them and only brought the bike. Placed it ceremoniously in a closet-like nook and christened this my exercise room.

After months of avoiding my exercise space like the restroom in a plague hospital, I finally got on my bike a few weeks back to see if still worked and it did. Case closed on that attempt at beginning a fitness program. Two days ago, I decided to try again. I’ve been reading far too much Manga lately and all those slender, stylized bodies gave me a little push. So, onto the bike, streaming movies with the Netflix app on my iPad for entertainment. Extra walking with the dogs. Stretching (I used to be phenomenally limber and actually still have an impressive bit of bend for an lardy old woman) rounded out the routine.

And my f**king pants are still tight! What’s up with that? Spare tire – still inflated. What gives? Thighs still touching – I’ve been cheated! I put forth two days worth of mostly-honest moderate effort into getting in shape and just where are my abs? And why the hell is my face still puffy? Where is my little narrow chin to complement my big, soulful blue eyes? This is unacceptable. I go through all that work, nearly breaking a sweat mind you, and this is my reward? When screw this, why should I waste my time when I can’t even see any progress after all of that?

I don’t buy all the balderdash about diet and exercise giving you a whopping 1-2 lbs/week payoff. That’s ludicrous. It should be 5-10 lbs/weeks at minimum. All fat, none of that silly water-weight. If we had a loving god in heaven, this would definitely be the case. Since we don’t, apparently, there has to be other ways. I want my miracle pill. I want to take my little miracle pill and watch the weight leap off like a stuntman before the car goes over the cliff. I really don’t care what’s in the pill either. Nuclear byproduct – sure. Ground up baby toes – I’ll ignore that it’s meat this one time. Spanish moss and cyanide – I’ll take a handful of those puppies. Just let me have my fast track to the finish line and I’m good with anything.

Life just should not be hard. We only get one short trip around the merry-go-round, so shouldn’t that trip be pleasant and filled with ease? The miraculous cure-all, the straight-and-true magic bullet… I have faith. I have a buttload of faith in the existence out there of a wizard’s-wand solution to my dilemma. And I will cling to that faith like a monkey to the last banana in the bunch…

“Faith: not wanting to know what is true.” Friedrich Nietzche