And kick, and stretch
April 8, 2008
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Some of my favourite bloggers have started up the Lard Blog to encourage each other into losing weight and blog amusingly and rantily about their efforts. A couple of weeks ago Katy talked about how fed up she is that people always assume that because she’s overweight, she’s unhealthy, when akshually her body stats say "bollocks, sunshine" to suggestions along such lines. I totally see her point. I’m stick thin (though with a little Adiposian muffintop just waiting to escape) and ridiculously unfit. There’s two flights of stairs between me and another team at work and I do walk those stairs, but I’m out of puff when I get to the top. I have no muscles in my thighs to haul me over the station bridge before the train leaves. But there’s no social pressure on me to make me exercise. And I don’t like doing it. So I don’t. And unlike Katy, I’ll get away with it when I’m probably the one who needs it more.
Apart, of course, from the ridiculously tight football matches that Liverpool make a speciality of. When I find myself pacing up and down in front of the telly, heart racing, jumping up and down in little circles and doing lots of arm stretches as I cover my eyes or grasp at my hair. It’s an aerobic workout in itself.