Battling the Bulge

Ugh!  How else is one to begin writing about "the bulge?"  Or, in my case, the bulges--plural, as in more than one.  Okay, more than two, but whose counting?  I am.  And, apparently, The Man-I've-Admired-For-Years is counting (see Tennis Anyone? posted May 2012). 

So, I started (again) putting in extra effort to defeat the enemy--those sneaky, covert extra pounds, a.k.a. lbs.  LBs.  How very appropriate.  LB can stand for "Losing Battle," "Lots o Bulges," "Limit Bacon," "Load Bearer" and "Lard Bottom."  I could go on and on.  But you get the point.

Now, make no mistake, anyone engaging in this warfare must expect to come face to face with 360 degrees of ugliness.  Afterall,  combat with this particular foe requires unfailing concentration, stern will power, grocery shopping prowess, and . . . standing naked in front of a full-length mirror. 

Once I did that, I regained the motivation to return to the gym and consult the chiseled expert, that lean, muscle-bound, cream soda smelling "A.J." whom I wrote about in "On Working Out" (posted December 2011).  We agreed to start with my legs.  I anticipated a rigorous, even military style, regimen.  Sure enough, like a platoon sargent, with a sober face and booming voice, A.J. gave orders.

"Give me twenty minutes on the treadmill, soldier."

"Now, on the floor step.  Up,down.  Up,down.  Up,down.  Faster.  FASTER!  What do you think this is, a playground for sissies?"

"No, sir."

On to lunges.

"Ready? Forward RIGHT.  Switch Left.  RIGHT.  LEFT.  RIGHT.  LEFT.  Keep it up.  Let's go!  RIGHT.  LEFT.  RIGHT.  LEFT."

Whew.  By the end of that boot camp-like session I was exhausted and ready to head to the mess hall.  But, I must say I felt victorious.

And I was victorious.  As of this writing, I am gaining ground on the battlefield, having lost 3.5 pounds of excess enemy so far.  Yes, siree, I have dropped a half-size.  No longer a size 6, but a leaner 5-1/2.  And I've gone from 34DD to 34D.  Grrreat.  My feet and boobies are smaller!
 
I'm afraid to exercise my arms and core for fear my wrists and navel will shrink!  A.J., help!