We all scream (except Mama) for ice cream

October 30, 2017

Cartoon courtesy of Jess Rae of Doodley Squat.

YOU know it’s time to get fit when you can’t catch your seven-year-old daughter in a game of tiggy.
Or when your 10-year-old daughter says ‘I’m not saying you need to but maybe we should go running together’.
Hint taken.
In all honesty, I really do need to improve my physical fitness. I mean my stamina is almost non-existent.
By the time we run (umm fast walk— who am I kidding?) to the park to kick the footy around, I am already out of breath.
And you can forget tiggy. Because I am always it as I can’t catch the little buggers.
So I have started fast-walking/jogging a couple of nights a week.
And thanks to the motivational lyrics of Sia, I can now run a few hundred metres without gasping for air and collapsing like a beached whale.
I have also started doing yoga, in an effort to get that hot lithe yoga body.
The fact it is supposed to calm the mind too is an added bonus.
My first session, I walked in thinking ‘‘I’ve got this. I used to be a dancer’’. 
It turns out ‘used to’ were the operative words.
Although I have almost mastered the downward facing dog, tree and plank poses, you can forget about the crow and plow poses.
There’s no way my wrists are going to hold my weight without snapping and the last time my legs were that high above my head, well I wasn’t doing yoga.
And whoever said yoga was relaxing wasn’t doing it right.
Trying to twist your body into seemingly impossible positions is not exactly my idea of restful.
It’s a workout. And it’s no wonder that yoga enthusiasts all look smoking hot.
And hopefully by next year sometime I will too.
This is all well and good until my boss walks in with a dozen McFlurrys.
Why hath thou forsaken me?
But before I hoovered all that pig fat sweetness, I decided to Google the nutritional information.
At 640 calories, I would need to walk for 167 minutes to burn it off.
Well, you can have your $2 McFlurry Macca’s.
For the first time in my life, I said no to ice-cream.
OK, maybe after I had two spoons full, licked up the bit on my hands, ran my finger around the rim where some threatened to overspill and I’m not sure how many M&Ms were caught up in that process. But I was strong — and eventually stopped.

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