DH's (dear hubby) birthday was this week. Got me thinking that in a few years (notice I qualified that) I'll meet the big 4-0 head on. I remember as a teenager being deathly afraid of forty. I feared being "frumpy." I wanted to be sure at 40 I would still be stylish and modern. HA! Someone should have told me "frumpy" would not be the issue -- "flabby" would. Seriously, you know "flabby" when you pull up your pj bottoms and the elastic does a happy snap sound over your belly.
It's not that I'm terribly out of shape, I just don't love exercise. And it's not really the exercise I dislike; I don't mind the muscle burn or effort at all. What I don't like is the sweat. There's something really yucky about damp, sweaty bra and panties. I've (briefly) considered exercising in the nude to avoid damp nether-regions but I'd only do that if I was thin, toned and didn't really need to exercise. Naked flabby is bad. Although, my other thought is that if I were naked on the tread mill maybe the extra miles my flab bounced would burn more calories....