So, as I said before, the reason behind starting this blog thing is my rather sudden face to face with proper health issues. Diabetes, cholesterol and the attendant plop that comes with.
So. Hard to describe just how far away from a gym-bunny I am but if you imagine a cross between Jo Brand and Ruby Wax attitude wise, that's about it. I'm not sporty, cannot catch a ball (or anything thrown at me - my instinct is to SAVE MYSELF!). Nor can I run in a way that is anything other than 'girl'. If anyone remembers an episode of 'Friends' where Phoebe runs - you have the picture.
To make matters worse, not only do I love to cook, I love to eat. I do not understand why anyone would subject themselves to a diet and the Kate Moss line "nothing tastes as good as being thin feels" (or something like that) - leaves my jaw a-hangin... I could make a list of things I believe I've eaten to disprove this but the fact is, I'm supposed to be doing an MA dissertation at the moment and really don't have 4 hours to spare!
So, I get the talking to from the Doctor, I sit myself down and have a think. No brainer really... stop with the pies or meet your maker way earlier than you planned... So.
Gym, diet changes, Yoga and take control.
The Yoga I have done before, Pilates too. I loved them and really wasn't too bad, however, after falling on someone (attempting a shoulder stand way before I was up to it) in the Yoga class and farting loudly in the Pilates class (there is a LOT of waving of legs in the air - these things happen when you pass 40)... I gave those particular disciplines a rest.
The diet changes are straightforward enough - stop eating the stuff you like and start eating the stuff you pretend to like if you go somewhere fancy to eat. Although, I draw the line at broccoli - as far as I am concerned, it is the work of a fiend.
And so to the gym. As I stolled back through the doors (I've made one or two half-hearted attempts before), Shaun the trainer (person, not item of footwear - but with the sporty theme you might get confused) looks up, beams at me "Hi!" he says "So, here we are again". It was more resignation than either a question or a statement of fact - he looked a little older I felt, a little weary. But manfully, he took me on again, went through my program of torture with me and is kind enough to hide his surprise each day when I reappear. I'm taking him some eggs in on Wednesday - my chickens love to share. I think he needs building up a bit.
They made me run in the staff race at school. :/ This, I do not do...
ReplyDeleteAs far as catching things, I don't even have the instinct to save myself! I close my eyes. This is why my memories of p.e are either faking a note to get out of it or sitting on the bench being the one no-one wanted to have in their team. I was never picked to be 'the picker'.
ReplyDeleteFunnily enough 15 years after leaving school I'm now going out wit a boy I went to schol with who was in my p.e class and was often left on the bench too! Funny old world.
Welcome to blogland, this post made me laugh. Look forward to reading the next one! xx
wit*???? I do of course mean 'with' I could pretend to be ....down wit da kidz, alas it is just my silly keyboard! (innit!) ;O) x
ReplyDeleteThanks Missy V!
ReplyDeleteI totally get what you mean about sitting on the bench. I was never the picker - well, not that I can remember but that is probably due to my early interesting in smoking behind the nearest building (stupid really, always the nearest - never one far enough away not to get caught!)