With my thirtieth birthday fast approaching and general concern about my body parts waving at me when I jump up and down, I figured it was time to kick my 'getting into shape' project back on track. I have been warring with my waistline for a while now, but as of this moment I have eight weeks to lose ten kilograms and finally achieve;
1. The passing wolf whistle from dirty tradesmen and old men with no scruples.
2. Free clothes from designers (What? It could happen ...)
3. Discounted airfares because I now have a few spare inches of space in my seat.
4. A free swimming pool because someone decided it would look great with my new bikini.
And of course ...
5. The ability to eat chocolate again without fears of my thighs plotting against me and taking over the world!
So, I started Zumba last night - just a little bit of extra activity to really shake those last few kilos.
No one told me you had to be coordinated.
Thankfully, everyone was so distracted by the sixty year old grandma in front of me wearing hot pants and no knickers that no one had a chance to laugh at my spastic shuffle.
You gotta love a granny with more ass than class ... literally.
So eight weeks and counting - thirty years old - two left feet. There are some things in life you can always depend on - getting older and always being an idiot.
Have a good one,