I have been in Hawaii for 10 days and I am at a personal best with I think a 40 pound weight gain. Well, maybe not quite that, but really, here in the land of rice with every meal and 500 calorie cocktails, it doesn't take much for the old bathing suit to really start earning it's keep... I am feeling, shall we say, a little full . My quickie solution is to go for a body wrap.
My mom and I have been popping in for several years now to see a former Mrs. Hawaii who is, according to my basic math, 77 years old... she looks to be about 50, so I feel like I can believe the lies she feeds me about the inches not being just water and sure this is fat loss. Whatever, I will look better for 2 days and that's all I am interested in... after all, Hugh arrives tomorrow.
This year I cannot locate Mrs. Hawaii. No answer at her place of business and no one around when I do a drive-by. Damn! And me sitting here swilling down drinks because the back of my mind is saying, "no worries, you can have a body wrap." Clearly, I have some work to do.
In the phonebook I find a "Slimmer You in One Hour" ad. I call and arrive promptly this afternoon. "6 to 20 inches in one hour" is a claim I can't afford to pass up.
Perhaps I should digress for a moment to clarify that I am a sucker. I believe commercials, infomercials and phone salesmen. If you tell me you need to sell magazines so you can get out of the ghetto and go to Cabo San Lucas, the odds are good that I will write you a check. I accept that a shampoo can change my life, that the right soda can bring me a good time and that every weight loss product is a guaranteed success.
I am my own worst enemy.
Anyhoo... I go in and proceed to strip down and am wrapped in these funky smelling ace bandages... head to toe. Well, actually there are little plastic bags on my hands and feet... then, once mummified, I am covered in a plastic raincoat. Honest. Now, at this point I think I am going to go and have a little lie down in a sauna or one of those infra-red chambers like Mrs. Hawaii sports, but instead I am told that I need to exercise/keep moving for an hour. Huh?
I am wrapped up so tight that I can barely move my appendages and this crazy woman wants me to work out? Fine. Where are the treadmills? No, she is just going to put an exercise video on in the lobby and I can do my thing out there... in front of the plate glass walls that overlook the entire mini-mall complex. Don't worry, they're tinted windows.
So, there I am, wrapped in ace bandages with a raincoat on trying to do some friggin Billy Blanks Tae Bo 2 tape and I swear if I am not slipping all over the place because of the plastic booties and hello! I can't lift my legs or arms more than about 2", so not really getting those cross jabs and roundhouse kicks in... but, people, I was trying! And then I looked behind me and there were a few teen boys with Taco Bell bags staring and laughing themselves stupid and I couldn't really blame them...
I had the girl switch the tape and spent the last 30 minutes walking in place like a crazed band member and watching Mr. and Mrs. Smith.
My hour is finally up and I did have muy fabuloso results so I told her I would be back on Saturday... but I was bringing my own damn tape.