When I am not pregnant, I am quite 'good' about eating well. I don't eat junk food, I don't splurge on cake and chips. But when I am pregnant (all 7 times), I let my hair and all other body parts down. It is a free for all, and like a bargain shopper on Sales Day, I go crazy.
Which is all good and (s)well, but it does make the 'pregnancy weight' rather hard to lose. The weight relating to the actual pregnancy (baby, placenta, a kilo or two of water) is easy. Comes off within a few months. The 17,000 donuts I ate: takes a bit longer.
And of course, as one gets older, the lardy ass is harder to get rid of. Do I regret those extra 16,999 donuts that I ate but didn't really need? A little, I suppose. But you know what, you are only pregnant a few times (you know, like SEVEN times) in your life and you might as well enjoy it.
Anyway, so now I sit with an extra kilo or ten that I have to get rid of. And because I suck at denying myself life's essentials like wine and chocolate, I decided that my next best bet would be gym. So I joined a gym. As you know. About two months ago. I've been twice - once to do that godawful body fat assessment thing *shudder*, and a second time to swipe my card. To keep up my membership. Oh wait! I've been a third time! I signed up for swimming lessons for my kids! (Yes, my kids are four and they are only now getting swimming lessons. I suck)
Clearly that strategy (sign up at gym/never actually go) wasn't working for me, so on the advice of a good friend in the computer, I decided that I would sign up for a personal trainer. If in doubt, throw money at the problem.
I called the "Personal Training Manager" at the gym to find out more about signing up with a personal trainer. I told her I am a 40 year old working mother and I would like someone who would understand what my specific requirements are. I said I was not interested in a spotty 18 year old beefcake with big biceps and a small penis. Ok, I didn't really say that small penis thing, but don't all those beefcake gym boys have small penises? From all the steroids they take? No? Well, it doesn't matter. I don't want a young guy (or a small penis). I would prefer a woman, and someone who is a bit older than 12.
"Well", says the sweet sounding Personal Training Manager from the gym, "then I would recommend Maryka". Oh good, I say. Why would you specifically recommend her? And then she replies, and I quote: "She is used to working with the elderly"
Hahahaha!!! OMG, I nearly peed in my 2-sizes-bigger elasticated-waistband pants! "The Elderly"!!! SHE IS USED TO WORKING WITH THE ELDERLY!
Oh dear. I am an elderly 40 year old, mother of three. Life really is over, isn't it. Now forgive me, I think it is time for my lie down.
(In the Personal Training Manager's defence, based on her accent, I think she is Afrikaans and might have been translating directly from Afrikaans - but still, it was bloody funny. I had such a good laugh)