Papillon

I was reading I'm Just About to Get Skinny...while feeling immensely sorry for myself that I've next to no options when it comes to exercise. There are a gazillion blogs on weight loss - and while I have no intention of turning this into that it does seem feasible to use a blog (which is already solipsistic in it's very nature anyway) to put to writing the things that would otherwise be stuck in my head. (ie. that crop up as a woman suddenly unsatisfied with the outcome of her body image+geographically-enforced laze.)

My brief stint on the running machine in Iran was not enough to stave off this feeling of being rundown mush on my insides and it's months before we get back there...even longer before we live somewhere I can return to my latenight in the rain five mile running habit. Sadly, all of the usual outlets for energy for the sake of being fit are out of reach for me here - unless someone knows of a proper gym somewhere in Bangalore where I can remain unaccosted for longer than five minutes...so, for the time being, I will write.

I'm eyeing the yoga DVD's I had imported from the States to Iran, toted hopefully to India, loathe to break them out and try to stretch myself adequately inside this tiny house. Our furniture is always biting me as it is - reaching out with bruises as I pass by; I can't seem to find a space tolerant of my five feet nine inches groping for length and breadth. There simply is no room for downward dog or warrior.
If I stretch upwards it's not a problem, but a reach to the right or the left, a bend forward, sends me headfirst into the bookshelves or brings on a sharp introduction between knee and office space.

I could, at the suggestion of my darling, attempt my poses from the bed but in order to accomplish a solid footing I'd have to first remove all the fluff I've installed to insure a restful night - and where the heck to put it?

I've no idea what my weight is right now, which is a point worth making. I'm not starting at a literal somewhere with the goal of getting to a literal somewhere else, and although my 28/34 jeans fit there is honestly little joy in wearing them. I feel icky...not fat, but icky. And ultimately the way I feel weighs far more than any BMI or scale could tell me.

So, in the spirit of changing the things I can and however that saying goes - I've reestablished my vegetarianism. I've not had meat or chicken since our arrival in Bangalore, but I have had to eat fish and the occasional dairy product - it seems that vegan is only satisfiably doable for a non-cooking person such as myself when in the first world.
This has helped cut back on the ick factor a bit.

Otherwise I'm insisting that we walk everywhere - but even this is a double-edged sword - balance the benefits of walking with the hazards of what pass for sidewalks here, traffic smog and wild dogs and you've got the idea.

I feel like the guys in film and book who are put to solitary for years and years but struggle through and come out to freedom, strong and lean - taking my cues from Henri Charrière I find it's the old fashioned stuff, the things they forced us to do in Catholic gradeschool gym class: pushups, situps, wall sits etc. that will do the trick.
Ugh.

Yes, it sucks, but I force myself to do it.
Or, at least, I will...today is my first day as Papillon.