Today I celebrated by having my first Personal Training Session at a local park. My trainer is Miss Jay, The Games Mistress at school who Moonlights, or perhaps more aptly, Sunlights as a Personal Trainer.
I found it a Cathartic Experience. The highlight was the boxing.
I have never before boxed.
Miss Jay presented me with a set of 'Everlast' boxing gloves & instructed me to put them on. I instantly felt like a boxer.
I then had to run around the park with them on while Princess Pip, who is training with me, had her turn.
When she finished, I had to stand with one foot forward & put up my dukes. Miss Jay then stood in front of me holding leather pads & told me to imagine that the pads were a Nameless Person's Head. She then told me to punch the living daylights out of them.
It was fantastic. I had to punch in different ways. Up, down, across.
I got v. nasty & even used some expletives that wouldn't normally cross my lips.
Miss Jay told me to be careful because if I missed & hit her by mistake, I would instantly knock her out.
On the way home, I found myself inwardly singing, 'I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar', a far cry from the days when I used to sneeringly substitute 'snore' for 'roar'.
Absolutely Not. Although I have become fascinated with the gradual growth of tiny little muscles in my front area that I never knew existed. And... I still can't do a proper sit up. Imagine what kind of a washday stomach I'd have if I could do them!
Personally, I blame the fact that I had a Caesarean. But that's a whole other story.
Time is slipping by & in fact, it's just gone My Official Bedtime. Plus my left hand is feeling a little strange. Perhaps I boxed too hard.
So now I'll revert to Summary:
(A) Look look look at my Story of Prometheus on the whiteboard. I particularly liked how I made Zeus a large, overfed Pussy Cat.
(B) Still loving wearing Navy. I could be dressing for The Polo. Or perhaps I could be looking like someone's Mum. Or both. At once.
We made a dashing pair.