And no wonder. The frequency and quality of posts here have decreased dramatically lately. There's a reason for this: I'm far too preoccupied with concentrating on how dang NUMB my butt gets after a few hours at work to think much at all about anything else.
Desk job hazard pay? I would hope so. Folks, the shape of my butt has suffered from years of just sitting down at work, and with the advent of 'the menopause' I've found that differing fat distribution as well as a sudden lack of resiliency in things like skin and butt fat have contributed to an added shift of epic proportion. This whole being a girl thing? Bah! The changing hormones, the effects of gravity, the onset of true aging are for the birds, baby.
The one upside (that of no more periods!) is a good one, I'll admit, but it would be ohsonice if that upside could be delivered without the multiple other whammies. Like - can I have all that hair back please? ON MY HEAD??? The once-thick ponytail is half as big as it used to be, and while there's still quite a bit of hair THERE, it's not the same as it used to be.
I won't even go INTO what's happening with my boobs. Dear Lord. I'm almost afraid to loose weight in case the only thing that's keep them even mildly inflated is the FAT. Not that they were ever all that PERKY, mind you (damn it!), but now they're downright disconsolate.
Men will complain of balding as they age, but guys, I'm sorry. The gents don't have the lifelong wild hormonal shifts, the monthly cramp n' bitch sessions, the sudden yoinking of a very important set of endocrine helpers after 30 or so years of C n' Bs's, the withering of what was a modicum of fresh beauty as one of your gramma's faces starts to appear in the mirror. Or at least gramma's NECK, a swingin' in the breeze. Gobble gobble!
Y'all - Being female is NOT for sissies. Especially being a female with a numb crinkle-butt.
Played Frisbee yesterday for 90 minutes or so with the Things and Biff. Oh, I'm sure it was hysterical to watch, what with the wild throws and sudden protracted inability to grasp. All good fun though, and those near-constant jogs to pick up the consistently wayward disc did get the ol' heart rate up.
And, apparently, used a whole lot more muscles that I'm used to using. Yowza. Every time I haul my flat ass out of this very uncomfortable office chair to go for a leg stretch or another swig of water it feels like my lower half is wound twice as tight as normal and I walk like a drunk lil' monkey until things ease up a touch.
A while ago I saw a show in which there was a dude who had hooked up his employee's computers to a treadmill, and to get the 'puters to work they had to walk at 1 MPH for the duration of the time they worked.
I like that idea.
A full day's work AND 7-8 miles walked? Nice. We cube dwellers could get off our puckered behinds and burn off some energy while typing furiously or creating the World's Best Spreadsheet or whatnot, AND help keep costs down by providing some of the energy needed to run these infernal machines to which we're hooked 30% of the day.
Would you welcome that kind of work situation? I think I would. Shoot, there's word we're going to be working 'open plan' here anyhow, so it's going to be noisy as all get-out anyway, and nobody's going to have any privacy anyhow, so why NOT just strap on the trainers and walk the workday away? Let's be forward-thinking then, and start incentivizing it - whoever logs the most miles a week gets a bigger bonus, for example, or whomever creates the most electrical output per week gets a free lunch (salad only!). Why, I'll just bet that a little friendly competition would have us kickin bootay and taking no prisoners in short order while getting fit n' trim! Win Win WIN!
Or maybe I just want an excuse to wear sweat pants at work.
Enough for now. I'm going to go mourn the loss of a follower (hey, I don't HAVE that many), then wrap up this work day, and attempt to get feeling back in my gluteus maximus. Wish me luck!