This evening at the Stress Buffet we were learning all about the importance of being active. And relaxing.
Although presumably not at the same time.
I've been thinking for a while that just for one moment in my life I would like to have a super-fit body that people were insanely jealous of, and started wondering whether I should actually try to achieve it.
Tonight I was telling my friend who used to be in the Army and I suggested that I had been thinking about getting super fit, which then lead to a conversation about how long it would take for me to basically look like Cheryl Cole and this friend, who is insisting on remaning anonymous like The Stig, claims that hypothetically, 8 weeks of Army style bootcamp will see me looking considerably buff.
So buff in fact, that the only fun that will exist in my life will be to wander round half naked just to show off my fit body. I certainly won't want to risk eating anything nice in case I ruin all my hard work.
All of a sudden, and in spite of the obvious hell that it would undoubtedly be, something inside me thought it would make brilliantly funny reading for the blog if I were to actually recruit him as my personal trainer for a no-mercy military style fitness make-over. He agrees as long as he's not photographed. I decide he will be called "Boss".
What have I let myself in for?
"What happens if I want to stop?" I ask.
"I won't let you". He replies. "What happens if I have to be mean to you? Can you handle that?"
"Well what happens if I drop DEAD on the side of the road. Can you handle THAT?" I ask.
"I'll just resuscitate you then we'll carry on" he says.
Excellent. When do we start? :(