I am going to a wedding in the US in May and that means hours of vigorous exercise and platefuls of lettuce until after D-day or W-day. I have enlisted the help of my lovely Personal Trainer daughter. This I did with great trepidation. As I said in one of my earlier blogs, said lovely daughter morphs into Attila the Hun at the sight of dumbells or an exercise bike.
I began on Tuesday (Monday was getting-up-the-courage-day). Lovely daughter identified several parts of my anatomy that needed toning, reducing and generally discouraging from their southward journey. What seemed like hours of heaving, sweating, puffing and blowing passed very, very slowly. No amounts of pleas beginning with "But I'm your mother!" made any difference. The torture progressed until lovely daughter was satisfied.
Next, my kitchen drawers were examined. All mixed nuts, Jaffa cakes, lemon sponge cakes and chocolate bars were blithely tossed into the bin. My fridge got similar treatment. Sausages were apparently on the prohibited list as were the packets of cheddar cheese and butter as well as the strawberry trifle which was to be my 'Well done' prize for making it through the exercise session. It seems my diet now consists of fruit, vegetables, chicken and fish and none of it is to be fried.
I have just measured myself and I have not lost one inch. However, I am not one to give up easily. I have decided to persevere until I lose those pounds. But, I have to say, Dawn French is looking more and more like my role model every minute.