A Tale of Hula Hoops and Toaster Ovens

In lieu of the traditional methods of weight loss which require denial and sweat and vegetables, I have decided to take up Contour Tanning.

Contour Tanning, or CT, is based on the artists’ concept that dark areas recede while lighter areas move forward.  Dark = invisible. Light = not invisible. Pretty simple.

With this in mind, I stood in front of the mirror and took a quick inventory of the things I wanted to make go away.  Thighs, inside and out. Wiggly inside of upper arms. Waist. Hips… ugh. I would like for them to disappear entirely, but that would leave me looking like one of those shimmering heat mirages. So, okay…just the outsides. The outsides definitely have to go.

Plan in place, I bought a pass to one of the tanning salons and, armed with ultra-dark bronzing lotion, I crawled in the toaster oven and begin the disappearing process.

Problem:

It is nearly impossible to expose those specific areas to radiation at the same time unless you are a pretzel. Notice I said ‘nearly’. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

Lay on back. Flatten arms against glass on either side of torso. Twist hips and legs 90 degrees to the left. Bend knees or your spine will break in half. Bake 7.5 minutes, then rotate to the other side. Continue baking until skin is sufficiently browned and/or you are unable to feel your legs.

After one of these disappearing sessions, I was wandering through Walmart with my roommate in search of nourishment (we are single, and therefore hunter-gatherers) and we stumbled across a display of hula hoops. In a moment of weakness, I challenged her on the hula.

What was I thinking?

Hoops in place, we distanced ourselves appropriately and began to swing. Well, she began to swing. I took one half-hoop and froze, pain piercing my left hip.

Two days later, as I tried to explain the hula hoop incident to the chiropractor, I began to wonder whether those CT sessions might have played a part in my injury, but I could tell by the expression on his face that he was already sufficiently freaked out by the mental image of Hula-Hooping Grandmas and decided I would not further frighten him with my theory of CT.

Besides, I’m not sure it’s working the way I planned, anyway. I may think my hips are smaller, but when I try to squeeze by the filing cabinet in my office, I’m reminded (painfully) that reality supercedes illusion. In other words, I think I’m going to have to go back to the old fashioned way of doing weight loss.

Or maybe I’ll just move the filing cabinet.