Yeah, so I’ve been gymming. And why is my spell check underlining this word? It’s a real word.
My sister had encouraged me to go to a weight resistance class called Body Pump. And in my desire to look like Jillian Michaels (pfft – yeah, right. The impossible dream. She’s got nice hair though too. Meh – i can’t achieve that either..) I decided to go.
Yeah, that’s me.
Actually imagine a few lbs (it’s my blog, I can lie if I want to) bigger. Also, wearing one of Robbie’s old T-shirts, that he got given at work and are emblazoned with DELL and Symantec logos. Also imagine my hair scraped back in one of my daughter’s hairbands and a purple hair elastic. No cute side sweep fringe like the girl in the pic. And my men’s trainers, cos all the cute girl trainers are too narrow for my big old flipper feet.
Well, at least I was there, right? And I did the class. And I was pretty good at it.
And then, the next day came.
And I was dying a death. I seriously couldn’t move. I couldn’t get up and down the stairs. I had to crawl downstairs. Backwards. I couldn’t lift my arms to feed my beach ball face. (Interesting new diet idea..) I couldn’t sit down and get up from the loo without rapid breathing and straining, like I was in the latter stages in labour.
And this lasted for about 3 days.
I’m actually typing this with a special head tapper that I’ve fashioned out of a wire coat hanger, wrapped around my head, with a cotton bud at the end, to press the keys.
Ok, that last statement was a lie. But everything else is correct. And I want to know how all the folk on The Biggest Loser manage to be shouted in the face by Jillian Michaels, pushed to the limit, day after day and are still able to get up and down stairs properly…
Until that time, I’m thinking about having this installed… Sure my muscles are fine now, but stairs are just too taxing anyway..