I had a tummy-tuck, last June. Seems that in a past life, I gained a whole bunch of weight, then lost maybe half-a-bunch. The problem with that process is that you end up with a remnant of skin, and the knowledge that it will never ever ever go away (I don’t care what the ad says, it won’t). This tends to blunt one’s motivation for losing the other half-bunch.
I also hate doing floor exercises. Doesn’t matter if there’s a pad or a rug..hate it. At best, I’ll do pushups a couple times-a-week. This was at the behest of our First Lady, who does not seem to have such issues. Tried doing some vertical abdominal exercises. With apologies to the folks in the YouTube videos, those seem to work best when you’re already in shape.
Enter the weight-bench. Spouse has had this thing for 30-odd-years, or since finishing high school. It was one of those “someday” things, until three weeks ago, when he finally put it together. It’s a bit limited in what you can do, but I discovered a situp. Between that and the chest-press…no more floor! I even loved the soreness. Made me feel like a kid. Once the pain subsided, there was greater mobility, mainly getting up and down from the floor. It was that fast. I won’t evangelize, except to say that abdominals aren’t “vanity” muscles, the way we like to think. They’re there and they make a difference, whether you see them or not.
I mentioned the weights to a doctor acquaintance. You know how they are. Seems that other people of middle age are prone to doing dumb things that necessitate trips to the emergency room. I promised to mention it to my husband. I am strong like ox, so no worries here. Indeed, from the beginning, I could do more chest presses than spouse and son (40 pounds. Be impressed). Needless to say, I wanted to maintain that advantage. After pushing it a bit, I noticed floaters in my left eye. Googled it..probably benign, sign of age. Next day it was darker, in my line-of-sight. Worrisome. Found an optometrist, got an appointment the next morning (Son drove. Ug.). After some eyedrops, pictures and tests, a vitreous hemorrhage was diagnosed. A short chat later, we surmise that it must have been a result of the weightlifting. It should clear. Eventually.
Funny thing about aging: You see the outside, and lament what once was. You debate various means of staving off the inevitable decline of physical appearance. You don’t think so much about what’s going on inside. Then the nurse can’t find a vein, or your 20/20 vision is 20/50 (at least in the eye that still works). You don’t realize that it’s not 1984, and you’re not a kid. The rules, which were always important, are now more so.
Long story short? Listen to the snooty doctor.