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Columnist for cahoots
magazine debuting December 2005. Look for my column
'Lesley's Letters'. You can subscribe at:
I'll whet your appetite with a
few columns I did for The Cape Bretoner
Magazine. Unfortunately as of December 2005 this
publication has ended.
So I guess it's true when they
say, "When one door closes, another opens."
CURVES
Curves. I want them. I mean, I do
have some but they’re the lumpy variety. The kind that pop out at you
unexpectedly when you sit or try to bend.
A new year is approaching faster then a speeding bullet, which means it’s
time to stiffen the old backbone and resolve to get this exercise regiment
down to a fine art. It’s something I’ve been promising myself since
seventh grade.
Did I mention I have a procrastination problem?
"And how’s that workin’ for ya?" Dr. Phil yells at me from the television
screen.
Well, dah....it’s not, obviously....but I don’t need him to tell me that.
Actually, I do need him to tell me that. My pathetic track record speaks
for itself.
So I go out and buy sneakers on a Monday and walk for twenty minutes. I
don’t walk on Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday because of my blister.
On Friday I join tai chi. My back goes out, just as I assume a threatening
pose. The nurse at outpatients sees me coming and tells me to calm down;
everyone has a long wait.
The next Monday I join an aqua aerobic class and promptly get pink eye.
A friend takes me to a deadly serious gym once the patch comes off. I look
at the toned, slender bodies showing off in the wall to wall mirrors and
mutter under my breath. Fortunately I drop a dumb bell on my toe and have
to leave.
Finally I decide on yoga. That’s easy.
I’m writing this column in the lotus position...in a school gym
somewhere...because my knees are stuck. The janitor turned off the lights
and left me here.
I’m crying into my beer and pizza about the horrors of exercise when a
friend mentions a place called Curves.
"What’s so great about it?" I moan.
"There’s no mirrors and there’s no men."
I hear the Hallelujah chorus.
I run to the Glace Bay Curves. I walk actually. Well, saunter is a better
word...but I do fling the door open.
I find Shangri-la . A room filled with women who look like me. Real gals.
The ones whose tummy muscles have been through the baby mill and whose
breasts have that telltale nursing droop.
All doing the dance of the plump fairies.
And doing it, mind you, in crappy clothes if they feel like it. How great
is that?
Who do I thank? Who do I kiss?
Someone points out the manager, Francine. I ran after the poor woman and
scare her to death.
"You’re my hero," I blubber.
Francine is a sweetie. She pats my back and makes soothing noises. She’s
seen this reaction before. And no wonder.
This place is my fantasy family room. How it would look if I had a million
bucks. At present my wreck room contains an exercise bike. I use it as a
drying rack.
Some genius finally figured out that a woman’s life is way too busy to
worry about counting sets of arm curls. There are females who like that
sort of thing, (the ones who have monogrammed hand towels), but the vast
majority of the great unwashed, just want to fit in a little mindless
exercise on their way to WalMart.
The first thing you lose when you walk in the door is the weight off your
shoulders. This is a safe haven for those of us who’ll never grace a
magazine cover.
It’s where real women hang out...of their jogging pants.
I fit right in. |
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Lady of the Flies
What would happen if an ordinary
woman, in the midst of her ordinary day, allowed herself to break the
bonds of civilized behaviour? By that I mean, strip away her public face
and let the world know what she really thinks. What she’d really
like to do.
You ladies know what I mean. Here are some favorites.
1. YOUR SMALL CHILDREN ARE BEHAVING LIKE THE KID IN ‘THE EXORCIST’
WHILE YOU SHOP FOR GROCERIES.
There are a few things you might like to try here. Take the grocery cart
with them sitting in the little front seat, give it a mighty heave and
send them careening down the cookie aisle out of sight. Barring that,
collapse on the floor yourself and cry uncontrollably. Shout, "Like your
kids are so perfect?" to the staring hordes.
2. YOUR FAMILY HATES WHAT YOU JUST COOKED FOR SUPPER.
This is easy. Take the casserole dish or roasting pan and open the front
door. Again, a mighty heave will solve your problem. Let the neighbours
dog enjoy your efforts.
3. YOU’VE JUST BEEN ASKED TO MAKE TWO LEMON MERINGUE PIES AND AN ANGEL
FOOD CAKE FOR THE BAKE SALE TOMORROW.
There are two approaches here. If someone’s in your face asking you, reach
over and throttle them. If it’s over the phone, say "I’d love to but I
have to go to a wake tonight." Hang up before they ask who died.
4. YOUR CHILD ASKS YOU IF THEIR FRIEND CAN SLEEP OVER WHILE THE FRIEND
IS LOOKING AT YOU.
Take your child and put him in his room. Put the friend in the car and
zoom over to his house. Dump him on the doorstep. Run to the car and don’t
look back.
5. A GANG OF SNEERING CURSING TEENAGERS HAVE JUST STEPPED OFF THE CURB
AND INTO THE PATH OF YOUR CAR.
Simple. Hit them.
(Oh brother, the mother in me has to add...not hard.)
6.YOU STEP ON THE SCALE AT WEIGHT WATCHERS AND YOU’VE GAINED FOUR
POUNDS.
Slap the weigh-in lady. Take the scale, push it over and jump on it until
it dies.
7. YOU’RE IN A MOVIE THEATRE AND THE BRAT BEHIND YOU IS KICKING YOUR
SEAT AND WON’T STOP.
Dump your pop over his head. Tell him you hate him and his mother wears
army boots.
8.YOU TAKE YOUR PETS IN FOR THEIR SHOTS, FLEA COLLARS, & CHECK-UPS.
THEY HAND YOU THE BILL.
Look at the receptionist with incredulity. Jump up and down. Scream, "Are
you out of your minds?"
9. YOUR DAUGHTER’S WEARING JEANS SO LOW THEY HAVE NO ZIPPER.
Rip the offensive item off her body, take the jeans outside and set them
on fire with a blow torch.
10. YOUR CHILD HAS WON A MAJOR SCHOLARSHIP.
Call everyone you know and sing "Na...na... na na...na."
11. YOUR CHILD IS BEING BULLIED AT SCHOOL.
Put on your Super Mom cape, fly into the school yard and pretend you’re
Jackie Chan. Once the little creeps are strewn all over the pavement,
lasso them together, twirl them over your head and send them soaring into
outer space, never to return.
12. A MAN IN A MUCH BIGGER CAR ZIPS INTO YOUR PARKING SPACE AHEAD OF
YOU.
Once he’s gone, drive behind his car and block him in with yours. You and
your girlfriend run away cackling like fiends.
Ahh...I feel better, don’t you? |
