Hot Pink is a regular column on nzgirl that's sure to have you in stiches! Don't miss your weekly fix.
To find out all about its author, Penny Ashton, just click here
Well I’ve been back for just over a week now and I’ve decided it’s time to shed the three extra kilos I’m sporting.
You see I didn’t just bring back excess baggage from my trip, I also had some inserted into my thighs in the form of beer and pretzels, and I’d like it removed.
I called the airline, but they were too busy thinking of new and exciting taxes to hide in their fares to help, so instead I decided to take matters into my own love handles.
I am no stranger to diets, as regular readers will know. In fact dieting is my religion as all the other ones are total bollocks and cause people to blow each other up and spit on two girls holding hands in Foodtown.
I have the Bible (the Weight Watcher’s points guide), the holy water (… uh just water), and the Holy Grail (Starbuck’s Coffee Frappuccino Light). And I am hell-bent on shedding my bad habits (hahahaha, I promise to stop with the bad church analogies soon) and heading towards the light … cream cheese. (oh-ho-ho-ho.)
Tonight, I even said no to two rounds of free alcohol! I am a true saint. Of course on Saturday night I said yes to about 8 of red wine and followed that with a sinful burst of karaoke and my first mince pie in five years, but everything in moderation, the good book tells us.
Of course to couple with this remarkable restraint I am embarking on a rigorous exercise regime.
I’ve been to the gym a whole six times since I returned… true I had to find it again on a map because it had been so long, but at least I was there.
Today I even endured the bizarre German Pump instructor yelling constantly at us to yell back at him. (I never understand why gym instructors take it so personally if you don’t feeling like yelling “I feel GREAT!” at the top of your lungs when you’re straining in a squat like a mouse giving birth to a donkey. I mean really, I pay to exercise my legs not my lungs.)
But nonetheless there I was squatting away and throwing dirty looks at the man who once refused to move forward an inch for me. (I should let go, it was months ago… but he’s a twat.)
So hooray Olivia Newton-John I’m getting physical and hopefully soon, just like Olivia’s career, my thighs will be no more.
All together now…. “Let’s get animal, animal, I wanna get animal, let’s get into animal, lemme hear your body talk, your body talk lemme hear your body tallllllllkkkkkkkkkkk.”
Good grief.
Penny
Last updated: 29/04/2008
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