OMG! It's Almost Time for Shorts

OMG! It’s time to think about putting away bulky sweaters and jackets and unpacking shorts, tank tops and bathing suits. I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready for summer clothes—my body is still in winter mode.

The only parts of me right now that wouldn’t mind exposure are my feet. I can’t be the only one out there feeling this way.

I haven’t exercised much the last few months. My winter mantra of "next week I’ll start" sounded good, but dozens of next weeks have come and gone, and I’m still in a holding pattern. My pedometer is in a drawer somewhere, waiting.

Over the holidays, I rationalized over-indulging on dark chocolate with the infamous "one or two extra bites won’t hurt." What better way to get through those cold, rainy days of January than to curl up with a good book and a snack?

Heart-shaped chocolates appeared in February, and then suddenly it was March. Brownies and Girl Scouts stood outside every store and supermarket selling cookies. I’ve never been able to resist Thin Mints.

I once wrote to the cookie company suggesting they change their packaging to four sleeves per box instead of two. Once a sleeve is open, I nibble until it’s empty. Shorter sleeves, fewer cookies. The idea made perfect sense to me. I never got a response. That’s when I came up with a different solution. A friend stores my Thin Mints in her freezer with a promise never to give me more than one box every few months—even if I beg.

As if cookies weren’t enough, next came chocolate bunnies, eggs and marshmallow peeps. (I love stale Peeps.) The jelly bellies were a problem (tangerine, watermelon, peach, sour apple, pomegranate and grapefruit). Eating just one is like trying to eat just one potato chip.

When I was a kid, Jelly Beans came in only six colors. My sisters didn’t like the black ones, but I did. I would trade my yellows and whites for blacks, but no one traded reds. We licked them and pretended they were lipstick. But I digress.

Summer clothes will reveal the aftereffects of my chocoholic ways. I need to exercise, start walking, but even if I start today, it will take time to get in shape. Why was I such a procrastinator?

The other day, I saw an infomercial for an exercise machine small enough to store under a bed. The ad guaranteed it would give me a perfect swimsuit figure in 15 days or my money back. I know their claims are false, but I actually paused, half-hoping before I rejected the idea. Besides, there’s no room under my bed.

Hmm—time to think of something else.

I’ll wear long pants and sleeves this summer and take the stance that sun exposure isn’t healthy.

I’ll claim I don’t want insect bites, that I read somewhere there’s an increase in the mosquito population in our area. (Now, that’s funny. If only I had taken a few less bites these last few months.)

I cannot spend the summer walking around with my arms raised over my head attempting to hide my triceps or stretch my waistline. No. I like wearing shorts and T-shirts. I simply need to get up and start moving. I need to walk, cut down on my portion sizes and give up those Thin Mints and coffee ice cream.

Do you recall the ad where a girl taped a picture of a yellow polka-dot bikini on her mirror as her incentive to get in shape? I don’t remember what the ad was selling, I just remember at the end, the girl was on a beach wearing one. No more bikinis for me in this lifetime—but shorts and T-shirts, yes!

With that in mind, I rearranged my closet so the first things I see now are my summer clothes. Not a yellow polka dot in sight, but I still feel motivated to get going and get ready. I also found my pedometer, so I’m hitting up Shoreline Park, hoping to wrack up some miles and be ready when the thermometer starts rising.

I’m looking for a walking partner. Anyone interested?