Gut Feeling


The strangest thing happened to me today while I was outside “exercising.” On the days I don’t play tennis (that sounds like I play a lot!) I “exercise” by walking. Okay, carbo-loading is not exactly necessary for one of these walks, but at least it’s something.

If I’m going to be completely honest with you, it had been some time since my last “workout.” However, as I was out there hustling butt, I felt something I’ve never felt before. Exhilarated? No. I wish. I know some people get a high from exercising. I think if I were ever gonna feel that way I’d have to get high beforehand. Anyway, it wasn’t endorphins. No, what I was feeling was in my gut. Actually, it was my gut. And it was jostling to and fro.

This was a new sensation for me.  I’ve never felt my stomach jostle before.  In fact, I’ve never used the word jostle before.  This fleshy appendage lapped against itself, like the waves of a stormy sea smacking against the surface of the ocean. It made a sound, thwap−the thought of which still makes me cringe. Even the sides of my waist were gyrating like those massive brushes at the car wash. I promised myself to get back to my desk as soon as possible.  It would be better there.  I always look fantastic sitting at my desk.  And by that time, hopefully, all movement would have ceased.

I did a 180 and headed for home. How could I stand a chance at feeling high now?

With a burst of energy, the likes of which I’ve rarely experienced, I ran through my front door and straight to the hall closet with the full length mirror. I took a long look at myself. Front view. Side view. I had the silhouette of Saturn. How did I not see this coming?  Or going. This was a blow below the belt, if there ever was one.

I had to think fast and shift into problem-solving mode.  Could others have already noticed?  If not, there was no time to waist. Oh gosh, waste. Wasn’t there some kind of hologram or optical illusion that I could utilize until I could properly dispense with this thing?  Perhaps I could create a garment with a color-block hourglass design, duping passersby into seeing a slim waist mirage. Yes, indeed!  I don’t think anyone has done that before.  Sorry Donna Karan−but shoulders, shoulders, shoulders−really?

I ran to the computer to start typing a business plan and although I should’ve been elated for being so dang genius, my mood quickly deflated as I caught a glimpse of my stomach. My God, it was on my radar without having to lower my head! My belly, now stationary, rippled over itself like ribbon candy.  My thighs looked like two water balloons−spreading out and challenging the tenacity of their latex.

A sobering kind of sad seeped through my ampleness.  It was a deep, profound sad, one that I knew would not be fleeting. I’ve felt this kind of thing before.  It was the kind of sad that only a warm dark chocolate lava cake with a dollop of whipped cream could nudge. Would it erase the sad? Of course not, but it would be a start. And as I thought about the lava cake the strangest thing happened to me.  I can’t be sure of this, but it felt very much like endorphins.

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    • Lillie

    • 12 years ago

    Those are my kind of endorphins!
    Also love that you “always look fantastic sitting at your desk.” We can all (hopefully) relate to being so “in the moment” and happy with what we are doing that we feel like we look great – like you do when you are writing. And we do when we are reading your writing!

      • Eva

      • 12 years ago

      I love the way you interpreted it. I meant that my desk sort of cuts me off at a good spot (mid-torso). But I like yours better! Thanks, Lillie 🙂

    • lois Walter

    • 12 years ago

    What you experienced my dear was something absolutely wonderful. It is a true miracle. You just didn’t realize it at the time. It is something akin to metamorphosis. When a simple egg experiences the inexplicable changes that result in a beautiful butterfly which, I want to remind you are, for many species, on the brink of extinction. To grow old, or growing older in your case, to be happy and healthy with the inches to show that you love life is a true blessing! (For some of us, i.e. ME, it is a bigger blessing than others!) By the way, you still have a great figure and I assume this post was the work of your fantastic imagination. You know, writers having to put themselves in other’s shoes.

    1. Lois, that was poetic! Thank you for your beautiful rendering of this frustrating time of life. So kind of you to assume I was speaking of someone else’s experience. I owe you for that. I did not know that butterflies were on the brink of extinction. I will be even more appreciative of them from now on. Thanks for reading and commenting.

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