For the last month or so, I’ve been vaguely contemplating taking up some kind of exercise. I already walk the dogs daily, and heft myself on the exercise bike sometimes but am feeling the need for Something More.
The secret of successful exercising is, of course, finding an activity you enjoy and can do without too much preparation. I used to enjoy the gym for the variety, but the gym DH and I belong to at the moment is a 10 min car journey away with no hope of finding a parking space. It has a lovely pool there and I do love to swim, but it’s just Too Much Trouble. I’m too big and my knee is too knackered to run. However I’m tempted by Zumba and that might be one for the future.
In the meantime I’ve been browsing exercise DVDs on Amazon, as the idea of being able to sweat profusely in private with no one to witness my uncoordinated wobbling appeals greatly. DH bought me Zumba for the Wii for my birthday but we don’t really have enough space to do it with the TV where it is now. I have been eyeing up the 30 Day Shred to kick-start things but think I probably need to work on my aerobic fitness and strength first.
Then, the other day I was on Pinterest, and I found this. It’s a starter’s plan to help you get ready to exercise regularly. And it has jumping jacks on it, which is one of the things that worries me most about the Shred.
So I tried a couple of experimental jacks and immediately identified a problem in the chest area. If I was going to do this safely, I was going to need some support. It was time to go shopping for a sports bra.
I was last measured for a bra about a year ago, and thanks to my Slimpod, have managed to shed a few dress sizes since then, so was a unsure about what size to go for. In the end I went for a couple of sizes smaller and one cup size less and bought a few different styles. Sports bras are meant to be stretchy right?
Once all the bras had arrived, I had a try on session before bed one night.
The first was supposed to do up behind but wouldn’t reach. The second did up but was too roomy. One of my girls disappeared into my armpit as I raised my arm. And the third was one of those over-the-head jobbies.
I eyed it up, wondering even to bother trying. It looked quite small, but the material looked promising and surely it would be supportive once I had it on? I decided to give it a go.
I got my head through, and the whole thing up around my armpits, easily enough. Then I shimmied it down over my boobs, rearranged things a little and went to look in the mirror. It was fine. I’m size 20, so I’m never going to look like I stepped out a magazine, but it was comfortable, held everything in and didn’t give me back boobs.
I did a little jog, and an experimental star jump. There was some jiggling but no danger of a black eye or whiplash. It’ll do, I decided and tried to take the bra off.
First of all I rolled it up and tried to drag it up and over my head, using the opposite action to how I’d put it on. But it was firmly lodged around the top of my chest and would not budge. I tried one side, then the other and heard something tear. At the same time, one of my back muscles went into spasm and for a short time I was frozen in position, too scared to move.
When I finally managed to lower my arm I took stock of my predicament and considered asking DH to come and assist me. I quickly discounted this idea; I was 41 years old, surely I was able to undress myself without assistance, and I could well imagine what DH’s take on ‘can you come and help me take off my bra’ would be.
I gathered my strength for a last effort and managed to get one bent arm up through the arm hole, but couldn’t push it up and over my head. It was now resting around my neck, trapping my hand and I started to feel light-headed as I struggled move it away from my carotid arteries. I could feel myself actually losing consciousness as I flopped onto the bed and imagined the headlines.
‘Woman Killed By Her Bra’, ‘Tragic Sports Bra Accident Kills Mum Of 4′ or maybe even ’Kinky Bedroom Activities Suspected in Suburban Death’ ?
I think it was the last thought that spurred me on, enabling me to rip the treacherous article of clothing up and over my head.
As I lay there gasping and panting, I reflected that there was probably an exercise routine that incorporated the putting on and taking off bras somewhere on the internet
I resolved not to investigate further.