I used to exercise. I even enjoyed it at times – not very often – but occasionally I’d get a whiff of the endorphins and wonder, “How can I not do this every day!” Inevitably three weeks after having thought that I would trade in my spandex for soft serve and wonder if yoga pants come in plus size (they do). There are just so many other things I’d rather be doing than circling the leg machines at Planet Fitness. That has always been the case. Now with the advent of Netflix and binge watching it’s even harder to get myself off my ass and to the dreaded gym. “You can watch Netflix AT the gym!” one perky colleague said to me the other day when I was lamenting my thighs. After I contemplated throwing her down an elevator shaft, I thought – that’s like eating a gourmet meal on a moving train – at the end you will have consumed the same thing but the enjoyment factor is nil. Thanks, I’ll pass.

But I’m 46 and I feel like I am 80. I’ve started buying bigger clothes. Tying my shoes has become an event. My Fitbit has died of boredom. Something needs to be done. So where do you start? Well Google, of course! Duh.

“How to start exercising when you’re a big lazy fatass”

“What stretches are good for chronic laziness?”

“How little exercise can I do to start feeling less like Jabba the Hut?”

I say I am lazy – but it really only applies to exercise. Ask me to re-organize the kitchen – I am there! Bake 12 dozen cookies from scratch – no problem! Clean out the garage – done! But get on the elliptical? I’d rather chew cracked glass.

I don’t even want to put on my sports bra – if I had one that is. I tossed them all the last time I cleaned out my dresser – the rule is if you haven’t worn it in a year – out it goes, right? I can’t bring myself to get rid of the plethora of coats that don’t fit me anymore but those sports bras went out without so much as a Fare thee well! Priorities.

The kick in the ass is – I know how to do this. I know how to eat right. I know how to exercise. I’ve read the books. I’ve watched the videos. I’ve cut fat. I’ve cut carbs. I’ve counted calories. I’ve fasted both extensively and intermittently. I’ve aerobisized, and Barre’d, and ellipticalled and yoga’d. It all sucks. At the end of the day – you eat less than you burn and your ass gets smaller. Exercise helps – but should be used more to make you more flexible and stronger – but diet is 80% of weight loss and that’s the end of the story. It’s just not a story you want to hear in a world where Market Basket lemon donuts exist.

So baby steps… I took the long way to work this morning instead of the shortcut. I walked around the floor every time I had to pee – which was often because I am drinking water like it’s my job to empty the Quabbin. My lunch had 4 servings of fruit and veggies. I had my co-worker take me for a walk this afternoon. I’ve kept my post-Halloween candy consumption to a manageable 2 Almond Joys and a Peppermint Patty. And hubs and I will take the puppy for a long walk after our sensible dinner.

My failures in the past have come from too much too fast and not being able to sustain it. I’m slower in a lot of ways these days so my approach to getting my ass back into my jeans needs to be that way too.

Here’s to building steady momentum. And avoiding the bakery.