Fat Hands and Open Sores

When does a blister become a boil? This has become an essential question for me over the past month as I've returned to an exercise regimen in order to restart my stalled Weight Watchers momentum. Previous to my current streak of physical activity, I have yet to go longer than a week before inconvenience and a lack of motivation left me with a gym membership that saw less action than a Star Trek conventioneer. Once in a while I'd venture into a weight room and confirm that the bench press operates just as it did in my glory days (although, judging by the diminishing number of plates I could handle in my post-college years, I'd say that gravity has increased substantially since high school).

But today, I'm thrilled to say I've crossed that essential one-month exercise plateau and I'm currently in the best shape I've been in since an Alleman lineman turned my kidney into pudding. Still, it hasn't been easy, maintaining my enthusiasm for the blood, sweat, and tears that come with the FDA recommended physical activity. I'm being tested. Even as I've found a routine I can stick to, my body has introduced me to a number of new degenerative tics that have added a new, aggravating dimension to my workouts.

The first, and most peculiar malady involves an abundance of blood accumulating in my hands. Apparently, when I spend an extended period of time on a treadmill without concerning myself with those extra calories I could burn with the mall-walk shadow-boxing, my hands swell up like the Incredible Hulk. It's not anything I'm concerned about, but it's an unusual sensation to make a fist and wonder whether your palm fat is going to spring a leak.

On the other hand, I am a little concerned with the epic battle of wills I'm currently fighting with my feet. Now, I expected blisters might become an issue when I started spending an hour on the treadmill five days a week -- its only natural -- but their precise nature and veracity I could never have predicted.

When one thinks of blisters, where does one usually envision them appearing? Back of the heel? Sure. The sides of the feet? Absolutely. Even the bottom of the heel I can understand. But how does a blister arise on the inside of my big toe? I never expected to develop blisters in such a remote area of my foot, shielded, as it is, from the main pediatric irritants of the shoe. But apparently there's some animosity between Big Toe and Pointer Toe, and Pointer spends the majority of my sixty minute workout bitch-slapping Mr. Big all around my New Balances. So, I'm now dealing with two dime size blisters in an area I've discovered is highly prone to toe-on-toe violence. The blisters have also exposed a new wrinkle in my biology; apparently blisters can double-up. I have blisters bubbling up through previous blisters; the inside of my big toe is beginning to look like bubble wrap.

I think it's a testament to my determination that I can look at the deterioration of my primary Piggies and still get myself to the gym every afternoon. Of course, there is a line where Band-Aid isn't going to provide sufficient reinforcement against the constant bombardment from Pointer Toe, and I'm close to crossing it. I suspect I'm three or four days away from complete mummification. But until that time comes when I'm weighing the pros and cons of amputation, I will not be deterred in my renewed quest for physical fitness.

Vanity is such a splendid motivator.