I am waddling around the house today after yesterday’s tennis session; such is the extent of my muscle ache. Add on a huge blister spanning the sole of my heel (there are two more blisters on the back of my foot, but that doesn’t really impede walking; it just makes me squeal like a stuck pig the moment I get into the shower) and you have a fairly immobile me.
I know now how old men feel, and why they feel the need to grunt each time they stand up or sink down into a chair. I am now also aware of the utility of a walking stick (not that I have used one. I have merely gained insight into how it helps old men.)
Okay I need to be more fit. And lose like 10kg before Bali or else
(a) the plane will not be able to take off
(b) we will have to pay extra at the villa because my exuberant cannonball jump emptied the pool of water
(c) FY will have to sleep on me and not next to me
Barharhar. Once I am able to walk instead of waddle I will be exercising! Be afraid, gelatinous-mass-that-is-my-fats! Thou wilt soon be vanquished!