For the past fifty years I have been doing a set of limbering-up exercises on pretty well a daily basis. When I was much, much younger, not yet out of my twenties and living in the first house we owned, a modest little bungalow outside of Toronto, I used to do these exercises every afternoon during a quiet moment in looking after three young children, wearing only my underwear for comfort in movement.

And it was in the little living room of our little house, on the fair-sized rug that I would do this. Sometimes the children would find it quite amusing to watch their mother performing those strange contortions.

Once, I still recall, how horrified I was when I realized that there was a hydro service person up on a hydro pole across from our living room window, and he was watching the entire performance from his perch. I felt absolutely mortified. And angry with myself for having been caught out in this way, creating a little intimate pantomime in the privacy of my living room for the satisfaction of a curious man who was probably decent enough, but whose visual lock on my window infuriated me.

I had felt compelled to do these exercises -- and to continue doing them to this day -- initially after the birth of our third child. My sister-in-law was someone who was forever critical of other peoples' physical appearance. To gain weight was the most unsightly thing she could imagine and she upbraided me for having done just that. I had the makings of a double chin, she said, and my stomach protruded in the most unfashionable way, shame on me.

This, from a woman who smoked cigarettes incessantly and frequently drank liquor, who thought nothing of eating junk food and in fact raised her children on take-out food at a time when it was far less common to do so than now. But I also realized that at my then-young age gaining weight was not a complement to a healthy lifestyle, and thus began my little exercise routine. And it is a little routine; stretching, bending, flinging about my arms and my legs in various positions from standing to prone.

The upside of all those years of exercise is not that it has helped to keep me from becoming overweight, but it has kept me flexible, able at age 76 to touch my toes with no effort expended whatever, even lay my hands flat on the floor before me. Gardening, cleaning our house, going for hikes during the day all help as well, but it is the exercises that have ensured my physical flexibility, and I treasure that.

As for my sister-in-law she had double heart-pass surgery many years ago. And, it would appear, she continued smoking regardless. Until she finally died of heart failure about a decade ago. Dressing becomingly was an important lifetime satisfaction ingredient for her. While I share that inclination, what I hold important in my life far transcends what I'm wearing at any given time.