I’ve been feeling a bit chubs lately. All those late night ice cream and maggi with Dean, in line with our efforts to spend time together rekindling love and renewing our love vows and whatnot (read: watch 2 Broke Girls). It’s so annoying that men can easily maintain their physique while we women look like everything’s going down south. 10 years from now, I’m going to go broke on wrinkle cream and firming gels while Dean is cruising in his new sports car like a bachelor. No, ok, that is not ok!
So first step: Clear out fridge.
Out you go, Paddlepop boxes. Out you go, Pringles tubs. Out you go, Cadbury chocolate. You may also find some questionable foodstuff in your fridge that may have expired, so this whole exercise is pretty good for everyone in the house. *throws away canned mushrooms from 2012 while slightly judging own self*
Second step: Call a personal trainer.
I tried that for a month or two before I started ignoring his calls and pretended like I lost my phone. If anyone asks, I’m blogging from Yemen. Second step is pretty fruitless for a bum like me, who knows it could work for you.
Third step: Learn to say NO.
Would you like a slice of cake? No, thank you. Would you like some yummy cheesy beef pizza? No, thank you. Would you like some — NO OK I SAID NO FOR GOD’S SAKE YOU PEOPLE ARE RUDE.
Fourth step: Notice the small things.
Since I can’t be bothered to find out how to get to the gym in my building, I realise I can probably find ways to exercise in my daily life. Like carrying Daniel with one arm and lifting him up and down. Or taking the stairs to the 3rd floor instead of just lifting my finger to press for the lift. Or help lift up boxes of stocks that come in to the warehouse. Or get the charger from the person instead of just “Hey, can you lend me your charger and bring it here, please?” Small things like that.
But that’s tomorrow. The doorbell just rang, pizza’s here.