Battle of the Bulge

I've long been convinced that my doctor was going to tell me he suspected a tumor growing in my stomach. Every year at my annual exam, I asked specifically if he agreed since my middle protruded so abnormally. He was always quite congenial, had me lay down, and pushed around on my belly. But he then shook me off to state that there was no such affliction. It was just...fat. I didn't quite accept it.

Then when I got my hysterectomy last year, I was certain my stomach was going to flatten out. After all, the surgeon would be scooping a bunch of those extraneous organs out. Finally, finally I wouldn't have to walk around sucking in my gut anymore. Well, that didn't quite go as well as I hoped. As a matter of fact, it almost seemed to backfire.

Every morning, I step in the shower and notice this disturbing shadow–a shadow of a woman who appears to be three months pregnant. I'm blaming age. Everyone says things drop dramatically once you cruise past forty...boobs, metabolism, ability to remember...But it seems this metabolism thing is diving at ridiculous proportions. I sort of want to say, "Ok. I accept it. This is the new, middle-aged me." But then again...what women is ever happy with themselves?

Look at those abs at 42!

Yesterday, my husband was watching some show which ranked the most beautiful women, and I caught a glance of Gwen Stefani. I couldn't careless about her breast, hair, or pretty face. But her abs! I'm insanely jealous of that rock hard midriff. And guess how old Gwen is? She's only a few months younger than me. Yeah, yeah, yeah. She's famous and can spend about five hours a day doing crunches. But I'm thinking I could spend at least...five minutes doing a few sit-ups. So, now I'm motivated. I'm going to try the Gwen Stefani ab work-out. Not sure if it's a six, seven or eight minute routine (ha-ha), but I'm willing to give at least a few minutes of it a try to dig into my apple-like figure.

Any bets on how long my program will last?