Stop sitting!

As if I didn’t have enough to stress about the headlines are warning that sitting is deadly. Really? If so, I have a husband with the heartbeat of a snail who sits for hours in front of his computer or watching old golf matches or the History Channel. He could expire in days even though I have informed him many times that the bombing of Dresden never has another outcome. But he keeps hoping for a different ending surrounded by Top Ramen, pretzels and popcorn. He’s the kind of guy who’s also watched “Titanic” seven times. Never mind. It gives me stress.

Research studies show that people who sit all day are more likely to be overweight, have a heart attack or die. In the British Journal of Sports medicine they warn about the dangers of sitting all day, warning that after four hours the body starts to send signals. Maury’s advice is, “Get up. Open the pantry. Look for food. Leave wrappers and debris behind.”

Even if you exercise you’re at risk. Their suggestion is to spread your exercise throughout the day rather than doing it all at once. I don’t have to worry about that with all the calls I receive for emergency hemorrhoid medication from my mother, Lara’s frantic calls about a babysitter who didn’t show up and all my dentistmammogramhairdermatologist appointments. Just remember: your sedentary behavior can lead to death. I’ll keep reminding Maury.

Car Auctions for Stress Relief

Our friends, April and Steve, invited us for an evening’s entertainment. With two car auctions in town filled with high rollers and wanna-be movie stars bidding on expensive cars, I had to check out the Lifestyle Pavilion at  the Barrett-Jackson Car Auction.  Women shopped for Savorski-encrusted cowgirl shirts and Tony Lama boots while men drooled over Cessna aircraft for $600,000. The best part for me was an aisle of neon signs. The one that flashed “EAT” in orange was my favorite. Maybe it would lure Maury to get up from the sitting position. But then I’d have to stress over how much he’s eating.

The car simulators enticed our men. While April and I watched a fashion show of very thin, androgynous women parade in microscopic skirts, our husbands played with car simulators that duplicated a driving experience and cost as much as a motorcycle. At a console, sitting down, of course, Maury raced and totaled a vehicle on an animated screen. The macho in any man can erupt around fast vehicles. Finally, though, he got some exercise. For his hands.



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