10-7-02 Side Streets, Kimra Traynor Herb
Looking for the Perfect Body
By Kimra Traynor Herb
IPS Features
I just got my
new SELF magazine. I love this magazine because it gives me all kinds of little
helpful hints to help me attain that perfect body I'll never have in this life.
I like to read this magazine, no kidding, while eating- preferably Oreo cookies
or a brownie. I like to look at the pictures of reed-thin models doing
painful looking exercises, and as I lick the sweet crumbs off my lips, I tell
myself I'll incorporate into my fitness routine...... sometime in the distant
future.
I was happy when
I opened the current issue and saw a list of cities rated by different
categories. SELF called the article "The Healthiest Places For Women."
Ahh, I thought to myself, here's an article I can really enjoy in an abstract
way.... without any guilt-inspiring thoughts such as: "I should really go
out and purchase a 48" ball to roll around upon to firm my ab muscles (do I
even have such muscles?)" or "does walking to the refrigerator count
as cardiovascular exercise?"
Also
thought, as I read opened the pages, that most of the cities would be far off
and somewhat exotic locals; the type of places I might want to visit
"someday". Imagine my surprise, then, when I saw- listed right
on the page under "Top Three Happiest Places To Live"-
Canton-Massillon, Ohio.
Get on out of
town!
SELF magazine
claimed that my birth town; the quite unspectacular Massillon Ohio is the number
three happiest city to live in- get this- in the United States of America. I
couldn't believe this! You mean to tell me that Massillon, Ohio, beat out, say-
Honolulu Hawaii? Or San Diego, California- a place I recently visited and now
continually dream about living? And then I started to ponder Massillon, Ohio.
I was born in
Massillon, and lived nearby in the country until I was fifteen years old. My
childhood was happy there- really happy- that kind of idyllic childhood unmarred
by any scarring events that most people only dream about having. I've always
told anyone who would listen (and my husband countless times when he probably
didn't want to listen) that it was my Ohio upbringing which makes me the perky,
happy person I am today. And now..... PROOF! My birth town is the third happiest
city in the nation. I was still gloating about my good fortune at having been
born and raised in such happy city when I saw the words:
"Canton-Massillon" popping up under another category. And this time,
they were listed in first place!
MY STARS! How
strange was this? What could the category be this time? "Most successful
people come from this town"? "Longest Life Expectancy" No.....
try #1 for LEAST FIT CITY IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA! I burst into
laughter. Because it is true that folks in that region of the country bring a
new level of low to the word "fit". My dad and his friends used to
like, for exercise, to pull out some lawn chairs on hot summer days and drink
beers while watching us kids play lawn darts or turning somersaults on the lawn.
Don't let the sedentary nature of this tale fool you- those lawn chairs were
stored way down in the garage and it took a good fifty or more steps to get them
and a few pectoral strainings to open them up. Not to mention the index finger
action involved in popping open those beer tabs.
I just had to
interrupt my husband from his book reading to tell him what SELF had reported
about my hometown. "And, " I finished up, spectacularly, "IT WAS
LISTED NUMBER ONE FOR THE LEAST FIT CITY!"
The thought made
me scream anew with laughter. "Makes sense." My hubby theorized,
"That the least fit city would also be the happiest. People there are just
filled with happiness as they eat their Ding Dongs and Ho-Ho's all day
long." That got me hungry for some Ho-Ho's, which, unfortunately, I never
keep in stock as that is one yummy snack cake I can never resist consuming in
overly large proportions.
Still, I think
my old hometown was getting somewhat of a bum rap, I thought, as I remembered a
fitness story which tied together physical exertion with happiness. My best
friend Michelle Kellman and I, when we were about fourteen years old, walked
nearly five miles to the nearest convenience store by the high school in order
to purchase some Ho-Ho's.
When we finally
made our purchases, we walked back to the high school where we leaned against
the locked band-room doors and gently unwrapped the silver foil with our cold
fingers. And the moment that chocolate first hit our tongues; you better believe
we were in the happiest place on earth.