Join me here. Do you ever experience that annoying realisation that you have no excuse not to get your ass to the gym. My gear is washed and put neatly away in my drawer. It’s just there… waiting… patiently for me to take it out, put it on and torture myself with an hour on the machines while it soaks up my salty sweat! Nice.
Last week, I went twice. Yes, that was my ‘every day this week’ attempt when blogging on the, um, Tuesday. Now I have limited umper lumper workout attire – so after I’d put it all in the washing basket that Tuesday night, realised I wouldn’t have anything else to wear until I’d put that load on. Shame. Looks like I have the rest of the week off!
But now it’s clean. The gym is in it’s usual location and clearly not going anywhere. My clothes are ready to be stretched over the growing gut. And my feet aren’t yet swollen – so my trainers still fit too.
Can a woman catch a break here!
I DON’T WANT TO GO TO THE GYM!!!!
“So don’t”, I hear you say… Yeah, well that’s easier said than done when you’re so scared of turning into actual elephant woman at the last hurdle!