I am about to start the third week of my New Me regime, i.e. ELF (Eat Less, Fatty).
My lovely trainer has shown me some exercises to boot my metabolism out of its lengthy hibernation, and amazingly, it appears to be working.
Combined with snacking on Brazil nuts and sunflower seeds rather than Cheez-E-Puffs or Curly Wurlys, I am feeling a tad virtuous.
It hasn’t all been plain sailing though. I bought one of those resistance band thingies, with two (pink) handles. The trainer showed me some smart moves I could do at home. Easy, no? The plan was to sling the band round the pillar in my living room and use that as resistance, pulling away to tackle my burgeoning bingo-wings. 15 reps, rest, 15 reps, rest, 15 reps, rest.
Who said exercise was hard work? This would be a doddle. I could watch telly from the pillar, catching up with my favourite junk programmes, i.e. ‘I Wanna Marry Harry’. Fabulous time management and I duly gave myself a pat on the back.
First problem, pillar is actually quite large, so I ended up hugging the darned thing to wrap the band round it, just as The Teenager came downstairs, rolled his eyes and seeing me incapacitated, made a break for the fridge.
Right. handles sorted, move forward a bit and….I was off. Did my reps, felt a little bit of a ‘burn’, rested, started again. Meh. Adverts. I always fast forward, so I reached for the controller, trying to put both handles in one hand. Almost there……thwack. Couldn’t do it, the resistance band thingie flew backwards, one handle whacking me smack in the eye. The Teenager rolled his eyes and darted back upstairs.
I kicked the stupid band thingie around the floor a few times (it’s still exercise) and decided to try on my new sports bra instead. Well. Whoever invented this Medieval torture device deserves to be pelted with soggy rugby socks. I ended up with one arm stuck in the air and the other attached to my thigh. After struggling to free myself from the evil contraption for over five minutes (and bouncing over to the window to close the curtains), I flopped onto my bed, limp, weak and exhausted.
I will not be beaten by these sporting accessories, although my kettlebell is still being used as a doorstop after I dropped it into the cat’s food bowl by mistake. Fear not, she’s still with us – she wasn’t eating at the time. The ELF Challenge continues…
As usual, your post made me laugh. How true that kicking your resistance band thingie is still exercise; brilliant! I’ve similarly decided that the approximately 3,876 times I have to walk from my cube to the bathroom qualifies as exercise. As does the vigorous burst of cursing I do every time I bang my shin on the ridiculous under-the-desk pedal thingie that is supposed to be like riding a bike. It provides zero resistance, so it’s been relegated to a spot not directly under my desk but where I reliably bash into it. Perhaps I ought to choose a different spot (e.g., the trash)? That, too, would constitute exercise! Phew, am tired just thinking about it. Must rest a bit…
Good luck with ELF!!
Thank you! Am totes excited as more equipment arrived at my house today – a set of weights and a gym ball. Much fun. Although the cottage is starting to look more like an assault course and the cat has a deep loathing of the bright green gym ball. Meh.
ELF is going really well! Six days eating helfy (see what I did there??), and one day off at the weekend.
x