Menopot

The only thing I have done these past five days to keep the I'm not Oprah promise to myself is EXERCISE.  I purchased a Weight Watcher's magazine.  Read an insightful bit of news.  It appears that women after menopause can lose up to ten pounds of muscle each year. Do the math, if your weight remains the same, the muscle tone you once had is now what the article calls your "menopot." How disgusting is that?  Menopot - spare tire menopausal  women get around the middle that makes them desperate for an elastic waist band.  My brain finally put it together.  I couldn't figure out why lifting weights was soooooo important. Now I know.  It is the muscle that burns fat/calories.  If your muscles start disappearing after menopause, then there is nothing left on your body to burn fat.  You could literally starve yourself and still remain a gelatinous blob. "The old metabolism has ground to a halt" is really the truth.  I suppose I could go on Survivor and not lose a pound cause even eating coconuts all day would be too many calories for a gelatinous blob. So, while my weight has evened out I will continue to exercise.  I do not ache, limp or hobble so some muscle tone is reappearing.  Just not through the middle.  I'm shrinking, slowly, very slowly from the top down and the bottom up.  My shoes are sliding off and so are my glasses.  
I'm currently reading three books.  My neighbor gave me Eat, Pray, Love.  On chapter 17.  I never want to give up on a book because I always think somewhere I'll find the part that makes it a book on the best-seller list.  I haven't gotten there yet with this novel.  I obviously have nothing in common with the author.  I really need to get to the Eat part, but it will be sad if she eats her way across three countries and encourages everyone to do that. 

Took my granddaughter to the zoo today and purchased a year membership.  We had a lovely time. 

Oh, the other book I am reading is Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis.  And I haven't gotten past the foreward written by Lewis.  He is defending how and why he wrote what he did and the different approaches to the subject matter he did or did not support.  And the other book I had to stop reading for a while till I recovered from the story line.  Same Kind of Different As Me by Ron Hall and Denver Moore.  It just got toooo sad. 

I'm headed to the pool to work on the menopot.  That is officially my new disgusting title for my flab.  

Sincerely,

I'm Not Oprah