Whilst I wouldn’t mind being a size smaller, this is not
about losing any weight. This is about the fact that I get out of breath
walking to the kitchen for my second breakfast, or mid-afternoon snack.
I refuse to go the gym because the gym is just people paying
an insane monthly fee to look at each other sit on machines and occasionally
lift something the weight of a kitten, or stride away on an elliptical trainer
on a setting so low that it’s like you’re chilling out on Mars.
I refuse to join a University sports team. If you are on a
sports team then, like my Dad who was an absolute football hero at University,
you will find it hard to understand how ridiculously intimidating sports teams
are to everyone else. I played girls football and ran until year 9, at
which point an invisible force comes along, causing everyone to become
competitive and angry and destroying all traces of fun. So, I turned my back on
sport, devoted all my time to Art, joined the Poetry Society and discovered an irrepressible
taste for cookies (all the while, killing my already slim chances with any of
the hot, sporty, popular boys - or any boys come to think of it).
So I go running. Sometimes. Rarely.
I am the Queen of Excuses with exercise. I won’t run if it’s sunny, coz I’ll get too hot. I won’t run if it’s raining, coz I might slip over. I won’t run if its daylight because people will see me. I won’t run at night-time because people will attack me.
As you can see, the window of time which I deem suitable for running is probably about fifteen minutes every two months, and then I’m probably busy eating cake or going for a cheeky cider or five at Spoons.
I am the Queen of Excuses with exercise. I won’t run if it’s sunny, coz I’ll get too hot. I won’t run if it’s raining, coz I might slip over. I won’t run if its daylight because people will see me. I won’t run at night-time because people will attack me.
As you can see, the window of time which I deem suitable for running is probably about fifteen minutes every two months, and then I’m probably busy eating cake or going for a cheeky cider or five at Spoons.
So, I bought a Workout DVD. To be specific, it’s Ministry of
Sound’s ‘Pump It Up’ – apparently, it is the ‘Ultimate Dance Workout’.
These are the girls who are teaching and encouraging me on my path to fitness:
These are the girls who are teaching and encouraging me on my path to fitness:
I think they might be robots.
Nevertheless, I do actually do my Workout DVD quite
regularly, and (now I’m showing off a little here), I have progressed
onto ‘Powermix 2’. However, any amicable feelings for Dominique and her girls (robots) always deteriorate
about fifteen minutes in. As I drag my gasping, sweating body towards a glass
of water and multiple inhalers, Dominique reminds me to “keep breathing”.
In dedication to fitness, I can get over how awkward these girls’ tight little hotpanttyleggingshittylittlecroptops are , however I reach a whole new level of awkward when Dominique tells me to “get into a nice deep squat”.
You can squat off, love.
In dedication to fitness, I can get over how awkward these girls’ tight little hotpanttyleggingshittylittlecroptops are , however I reach a whole new level of awkward when Dominique tells me to “get into a nice deep squat”.
You can squat off, love.
On Wednesday my friends persuaded me to go to Zumba. If you
know me, then this is just ridiculous. I struggle to walk from A to B without
finding something to trip over (usually my own outrageously large feet), let
alone participate in a crazy mash-up of samba, tango, belly dancing, mambo and
salsa! But I went, and I was fully
loving life. It’s fun, chilled and the session I went to had a fantastic range
of ages and ability. But I can’t help thinking that what made it so fun was
that I was with my friends who fully appreciated it when I completely made-up
an entire new move.
Nevertheless, a whole new (and quite justified) excuse was born: I will not go to Zumba alone.
Nevertheless, a whole new (and quite justified) excuse was born: I will not go to Zumba alone.
So that’s my attempt at keeping fit and because this article has been ultimately pointless, and a bit of self-justification that I'm not completely lazy, here are my top three tips to keep fit and look and feel yummy
J
1)
It doesn’t matter what size you wear, as long as
it fits.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve said this to women at work. Sizes are just ridiculous nowadays. Not only do I wear different sizes from shop to shop, but I wear different sizes within one shop. If you have to go up a size, it doesn’t matter. Wearing a size that fits is better than wearing something which is grabbing your lumps and bumps.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve said this to women at work. Sizes are just ridiculous nowadays. Not only do I wear different sizes from shop to shop, but I wear different sizes within one shop. If you have to go up a size, it doesn’t matter. Wearing a size that fits is better than wearing something which is grabbing your lumps and bumps.
2)
Don’t go mental with the whole fitness thing.
Coz this chick:
Coz this chick:
Looks ridiculously like this guy:
Just a thought, ignore your BMI. It’s an outdated and inappropriate way to check
your weight because the measurements cannot distinguish between lean and fatty
mass… which means if you’re super hench then it’ll think you’re overweight.
3)
Do what makes you happy.
I know this is cliché, and also far more easily said than done. Only ever change for yourself.
Harriet Baker
I know this is cliché, and also far more easily said than done. Only ever change for yourself.
Harriet Baker
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