I’m not one to exercise, unless you call crocheting until you drop, exercising plus I’m self-conscious about my weight, so I suppose that’s why it’s taken me 3 years to join the kettle bell class, held at the local club where I work.
For months I’ve watched ‘them’ – the fit, the lean, the ripped & the healthy , swinging bells, skipping, lunging, planking as their instructor, whipped them into shape…..for me, this is what nightmares are made of.
S0 why in a moment of complete madness, did I decide to join the NEW fatties class aka the low impact kettle bell class. Because I thought the class would be made up of fatties and old grannies, so I’d fit right in, but as it turned out, I’m the only fatty and the ladies much older than me are super fit & strong.
Then there was the whole shopping for ‘gym gear’ ….I’m still feeling a little fragile about the whole episode, maybe one day I’ll be able to talk about it. Let’s just say for now, dressing room mirrors + flabby thighs+ lycro pants + XXXXL shirt to hide the tummy = too many Gin cocktails…………
Doom day arrived and before the class even started I’d burst a foofy valve lifting the 3kg kettle bell off the shelf. As with all exercise routines, there is first the warm up bit, of course NOT having exercised in 100 years this felt like the actual class. I even pulled a muscle repeatedly trying to pull my shirt over my tummy and for a split second I thought I’d coughed up a lung or 2. Seriously, you no sooner got down on the floor when you had to jump up and do burpees, then back down for mountain climbing thingy…….no jokes I made a beached whale look elegant.
How I managed to complete an entire class is beyond me. I couldn’t touch my knees, never mind touch my toes. I thought I’d managed a plank but in actually fact had passed out on my mat. I couldn’t believe I’d paid someone to torture me like that.
Definition of Torture: the action or practice of inflicting severe pain on someone as a punishment or in order to force them to do or say something.
So if I thought the kettle bell class was torture the following day was hell. I literally fell out of bed , got onto all 4’s and did the whole tragically dying crawl to the bathroom. Walking became a pathetic shuffle and going to the toilet a nightmare.Do you have any idea how low a toilet is? I popped anti inflammatories like sweets and when I wasn’t screaming like a banjee to my staff I was crying like a blithering idiot…..so much pain to deal with.
And just when I thought there was light at the end of the tunnel it was time for the next torture session. Goodness knows why but I went back and have continued going back for almost 6 months.
I can now touch my toes. I can even plank for a minute flat if I don’t pinch the flabby chicken skin around my elbows. I can also skip for a minute if I run to the toilet before I start skipping( the whole prolapsed bladder thing). Progress has been slow but progress is progress….right?
Right! So remember me when you’re sipping on this fabulous gin cocktail the tragedy of my 1st furor into exercise. Enjoy!.
- 500ml of freshly squeezed lemon juice
- 500ml sugar
- 500ml water
- Soda water or sparkling water
- Fine salt
- Dissolve the sugar in the water. Bring to the boil and boil for 5 minutes. Cool slightly.
- Add the lemon juice and stir. Refrigerate.
- Rub a slice of lemon around the rim of a glass. Dip the rim into fine salt.
- Add some crushed ice to a glass, half full with your lemonade mix, top with soda water and a generous splash of gin.