‘Having a healthy lifestyle’ is a sentiment that gets thrown around a lot these days but it seems to be something that is highly subjective: everyone has their own notion of what constitutes a ‘healthy lifestyle’. The main tenets of course are the same (eating healthy, getting enough exercise, avoiding too much fast food, etc) but how people interpret these tenets is surprisingly different (does ‘eating healthy’ mean just avoiding fatty/fast foods or does it mean going vegetarian/vegan/glutton-free? How much exercise is ‘enough exercise’? Is caffeine acceptable? How much?)
So yes, there’s no hard and fast rule on what makes a healthy lifestyle, but I think everyone can agree that more people need to try and achieve it.
Unless of course the universe is conspiring against you in the form of huge dogs trying to bite your leg off in which case sticking with your non-healthy lifestyle is probably healthier for you in the long run.
Confused? Allow me to explain.
For a while now, my husband and I have been talking about losing the extra pounds we’re both carrying around and getting into shape. So after yet another failed attempt at cutting down on junk food, we finally decided that exercise was the way to go and given the lovely weather we’ve been having these days, and on account of me breaking out into hives at the mere mention of a gym, we settled on going walking as the best start to our exercise regiment.
Simple, right? What could possibly go wrong, right?
The first day of the month and as luck would have it, the mister was too busy with work to go for a walk so in a burst of enthusiasm I decided to go by myself. I must have been oozing too much enthusiasm because my four year old nephew decided that he was going too. So I put the baby in her stroller, adjusted my ponytail, took a deep breath, and set out at a brisk pace (which had to be adjusted three minutes later when my nephew couldn’t keep up). Seven minutes in and I was feeling quite proud of myself for actually sticking to the plan instead of putting it off for another day. In fact, I was so busy congratulating myself on my amazing achievement that I didn’t realize something was wrong till I almost fell over on account of my nephew being suddenly latched onto my legs with a death grip.
That’s when I heard the barking.
Did I happen to mention I’m petrified of dogs? Yeah, always have been and probably always will be.
And here was a black one running full tilt towards me with no visible intention of stopping till he had a torn-off limb gripped firmly in his jaw.
My first impulse was of course to run screaming for the hills but apparently I’m an adult now and have responsibilities in the form of little people attached to my legs. I’m actually quite proud of myself for the calm way in which I picked up Baby L, pushed the nephew behind me, picked the stroller up in one hand and waved it around as a defensive weapon and started walking home (backwards I might add).
On an unrelated note, I’m pretty sure the neighbors think I’m slightly crazy.
My husband thought the same thing (though he was smart enough not to say it) and after a long day spent trying to convince me this was a one-off event and in no way a sign the universe was out to get me, he managed to coax me into grudgingly agreeing to trying another day of walking.
I am never letting him talk me into anything ever again.
To be fair, the second day was better in the sense that a) the mister was with me, b) there was no four year old to account for and c) we managed a good thirty minute walk before we ran home. Why did we run home, you ask? Well, let’s just say that this time around there wasn’t a single black dog to chase us home. Nope, there were THREE.
So yes, call me crazy, but I think that’s a sign that I need to either ‘accept my body’ or suck it up and invest in a gym membership.