I Think I’d Rather Dance

That blood-curdling scream coming from my shower was not Janet Leigh. It was me taking an icy cold shower to speed up my sluggish metabolism. That cold shower is excruciating!

“It’s 42 degrees outside! Is she Psycho?” you might be asking. The question is open for debate, but actually you can blame that cold shower on Doctor Oz. No, he doesn’t affect me that way! He told me that this would speed my metabolism … or rather, a guest of his did. Supposedly a NASA scientist said that exposure to cold will boost your metabolism, so they recommended a five minute cold shower every day. I’m not sure if the metabolism boost comes from the cold or the screaming.

Can’t I just drink an icy cold beer and shout a bit?

Do y’all ever watch Doctor Oz? I don’t watch his show very often, because I don’t sit down much at that time of day. Although I enjoy hearing all his suggestions for improving our lives, I sometimes feel overwhelmed because he has too many ideas. Heck, if I tried everything he suggests to lose weight, regain my energy, and get enough sleep at night … I wouldn’t have time or energy to do anything else!

I thought I would try this cold shower thang because it was cheap, and because my metabolism needs a boost. I know in my heart of hearts that it does. I also know that if I really wanted to boost my metabolism all I need to do is move. I need to get active again.

When I was a kid, I was as skinny as a bean pole … I ate like a hummingbird. I consumed the most greasy and high calorie foods you can imagine and burned away the calories immediately. It’s because I was on the move all the time. No, I wasn’t an athlete … and I did no “formal” exercise. Being active was just a part of my life.

After school, a girlfriend and I walked around our neighborhood almost every evening. The main reason for this was that we wanted to gossip without my pesky little sister eavesdropping on us. In full makeup and our most alluring regalia (it was the sixties — it wasn’t that alluring) we strutted through our neighborhood for hours giggling together. It didn’t hurt that some pretty cute boys lived in our area, so we circled their houses many times, hoping they would come outside to chat. OK. You caught me. The hope of seeing boys was the main reason we walked (we were trolling … are you satisfied?), gossiping freely was just a bonus.

I remember my Daddy laughing because I swiveled my hips when I walked … and I didn’t have any hips. Oh, Daddy, I have some hips on me now. I have hips enough for two people.

I also danced constantly back then (if you could call that “dancing”). I jived when I walked, I shimmied when I stood in one place, and I boogied for hours before I went to bed. You see, we only had one television set. Once my Daddy came home, he controlled the channels. I didn’t like his program selection, so I retreated to my lair and closed the door. I put my LPs on the record player and danced my little heart out almost every night. I discovered that if the music was loud enough, I didn’t hear my mother calling me to wash the dishes, and she gave up pretty quickly.

All that walking and dancing must have kept my metabolism racing. These days, I don’t do a lot of that … and I know I need to try it again. I understand myself well enough to realize that I won’t do formal exercise. Walking to nowhere on a Nordic Track doesn’t excite me either. I could walk in the neighborhood, I suppose (although I don’t think there are any cute boys … except at my house).

Dancing appeals to me, though. I certainly could pull out my music and dance around the house. Perhaps I can pull out a Queen album and shake my stuff to the tune of “Fat Bottom Girls.”

Either of those activities would beat taking an icy cold shower, although a friend of mine told me something intriguing about those cold showers. He said that he had asked a 90 year old man the secret to a long life. The man admitted that he had many vices. He said, ” I do what I want and eat whatever I please … but I took a cold shower every single day of my life.” He credited the cold shower with his longevity!

I’m going to try dancing first, thank you very much. Maybe in a few decades some young whippersnapper will ask about my longevity. I’ll wink and tell ‘em, “I do what I want, I eat bacon every day, but Whooee, baby, I do love to dance.”

Other posts you might enjoy:

1. Prevent A Head Cold?
2. Bath Time Blues
3. Disappearing Act
4. Fan Dance
5. Kleenex Stock. Snot A Bad Idea.

Tagged as: dancing, health, Memories