Tiny baby steps...

My husband says I’m like a dog with a bone. When I get an idea in my head I can’t rest until the idea becomes reality, but if I don’t want to do something for whatever reason I just won’t do it.

“Let’s join the gym” my mate Selina chirped up one day. “Lets not” I replied. I have shares in taxis and the most exercise I get is fighting with the cork screw for my evening tipple, so the last thing I wanted to do was increase my exercise at the gym.
“Feel good fitness” she said. “It will make you feel good and make you fit” A few glasses of vino already does that very nicely thank you,” I tell her. Poking my ever-increasing spare tyre around my waist: “yes so I see,” she sniggers.
It took two weeks of nagging before I caved in. “Ok ok just twice a week at lunch time” I offer. Selinas eyes lit up and she was off organising her fitness outfit. Quietly I am thinking. Very handy, Quiet Monday; Tuesday and Thursday gym, rest of the week PUB.. sorted……

Tuesday arrives and 12pm is looming. My bag is packed with all the essentials, deodorant, trainers, sloppy Joes and FAGS. Well, what if I get stressed …..
We arrive at the gym to be greeted by our instructor Jake. Who’s been fagging it” he asks as we walk in. “Her” I reply pointing at Selina and legging it to the locker room.

Now I don’t want anything too testing I tell the instructor. “Just a bit of toning up will suit me fine” He asks if there is any equipment that I don’t like. “I don’t like the bikes” I tell him. So what’s the first piece of equipment he introduces us to, yep you guessed it the bikes. Five minutes later I’m very warmed up but I'm ok. Then he introduces the stepper with arm workers. The instructor sets the timer for 5 minutes and I’m off. 2 minutes later….OH MY GOD I THINK IM DYING…. I don’t know the real name of this piece of equipment but I have named it the beast.

An hour later after the rowing machine, running machine weights and lifts sit ups and squats and its over. I’m sweating, I stink, I feel about 90 and look older plus I’m dying for a fag. I don’t feel good and I don’t look fit unless looking fit means red faced with mascara-run eyes, but………..on Thursday I will do it all again because like a dog with a bone I wont give up….I will be toned and I will conquer the beast and kill it, but I will just go and exercise my fingers first and have a fag.