Feel the burn....

It's a great Jane Fonda line, feel the burn, although it was technically something that was last heard in the roaring, brightly coloured 80's.

Everywhere you turn nowadays you're lectured on eating healthily, drinking plenty (of water mind) and exercising.

I've never been much of an exerciser, as I'm an instant gratification type of gal. I want to do three sit ups and see a difference, NOW dammit, but since relocating back from London I walk a lot less as one; it's too dangerous and secondly, South Africans are a lazy breed and we drive everywhere (Not me, i get chauffeured I'll have you know).

Less walking, equates to much more lard accumulating around my midsection and i wobble worse than the Pillsbury dough boy, or to put it differently i resemble a vertical water bed. That's about to spring a leak.

The good Lord in his infinite wisdom, was most kind and gracious and blessed me with an ample bosom, so running, skipping, jumping or things along those lines are not the best of ideas. Ever. What's a girl to do you ask?

I don't think we have the luxury of personal trainers in this one chicken town and even if we did I'm not really sure I want to fork out any of my hard earned money only for someone to yell at me to do any of the above mentioned things that will cause massive trauma to my head and other extremities. 

Light bulb moment. Like everyone else of my generation I'll Google it.

I start typing, low impact, non strenuous, bad back exercises, hmm. Let's see. Google reckons I need to go get something called an exercise ball (Oh Lord, does Google realize where I live? Does Google realize mozzarella is a luxury that has to be ordered in and delivered in some hyper cooled, big behemoth of a specialized German manufactured lorry?), or yoga ball and proceed with the following exercises. Looks harmless enough. How hard can it be? (Never dear readers, ask that question, because it can be very very hard).

Anyhow, off to the local sports shop I go. This is all very new territory to me, I have no idea what half these gadgets do, let alone how they work, all I want is an exercise ball! I've even brought a picture of some smiley lady sitting on said exercise ball, hardly breaking a sweat!

After much explanation, hand gestures, frowning and jabbing at the picture, I finally leave the store with said exercise ball in tow. Right, flab beware, you're going to be sorry you've settled on my derriere.

Schlepping all my shopping home I finally realize quite late into the night that I'd bought said ball, and that it probably needs inflation of some kind.

Bugger, now what? Rip open the packaging and find something that resembles my great aunty Tessie's icing gun. Riiiiggggghhhhhttt, they want you to exercise, but then give you clues as to cake baking? How's that work? Do ten of these and have a cupcake after? Strange exercise program this.....

I decide to leave it for some man person around the house to do said inflation. Friday dawns and my kid brother volunteers to do the inflating.

What do you want with a beach ball in anyway, he enquires? We're miles from the sea? And shouldn't it be stripey or colourful at least? Can't you just take the umbrella? You know, the big green one. You don't tan well at all....

No, i say, it's not a beach ball, it's an exercise ball. Exercise? He says, YOU are going to EXERCISE?

Yes, alright, i mutter, i'm going to try in anyway by Jove.

Much effort goes into this inflation malarkey. The inflation nozzle that they provide to inflate said ball doesn't quite fit into the ball correctly which means half of the air escapes into well, thin air, and you have to put twice as much effort in to inflate the thing.


Finally, after much grunting and profuse sweating (before I've even started exercising) the ball is inflated. Hurrah! Now i can go do another cursory study of my carefully downloaded exercises (with pictures) and get rid of this flab! Right? Well....

Donning my ever so stylish exercise garb with super support and everything elasticated and breathable (that's just the shorts) I now face my Rubicon. The point of no return.

Bringing my bits of paper with me for guidance as to what goes where, i start off with the plank position. Sounds harmless enough.

Oh, how sorely mistaken i was. While getting the hang of the positioning of the plank and breathing correctly, two of our sausages (dogs) come to investigate. This is too much fun for them to lose out on...

I hadn't noticed they'd crept up on me and it was only when i was propelled forward by a great gust of wind and smacked into an ancient wardrobe being sanded down, that no, this wasn't the Armageddon, or the second coming, the ball had simply popped.

The little blighters had thought this a most fun plaything and decided to give it a bite, or two, instead of just puncturing it, they bit a massive chunk out of it and it went bang, and I went flying. Not what I had in mind for my first exercise session. I think I'll be traumatized for life and the therapy will last for decades. 

I now have carpet burn all the way from my elbow to my pinky which is most unsightly, I squint out of my left eye where i'd smacked into the wardrobe, the ball is no more and the dogs in their flight out of the room in horror piddled on the newly washed carpet until they reached the safety of outside. All in all, a most productive 10 minutes!