I had a lovely email from Bee of 50 Plus Life Design yesterday morning telling me I’d won their ‘book of the month’ competition. Ironically it’s called "Unbelievably Good Deals and Great Adventures that you Absolutely Can’t Get Unless You’re Over 50" so I’m afraid it’s many great adventures I absolutely can’t get for aeons and ages and at least 9 months anyway.
But you get what you focus on and I have been doing a lot of focussing on Life After 50 this year because I shall in fact pass that milestone in exactement 40 weeks today. The main thrust of my focus has been on getting myself into great shape before the big 5-0h.
Only last week I got a call from my gym, Curves asking me if I realised it was the guts of two months since I’d popped my lumpy little backside on their machines.
If I’d recognised their number of course, I wouldn’t have picked up but
it was a fair cop and I went quietly. I figured two months on the run (contra-pun not intended) was more than I could have expected and it was time to complete my sentence, er membership.
Actually, I have just loved
being back. It is a nice little workout that at 30 minutes is
absolutely manageable if it weren’t for the fact that Curves is a 40 minute drive
But I’m lucky I have the freedom to schedule my days as I want, if I just organise my diary sufficiently well, and I spend the time in the car talking to myself or listening to something useful on the CD.
Next week I’ve agreed to join their 6 week Plan which seems to involve some protein drinks and an eating regime which I fear will not incorporate almond slices, butterfly cakes or whippy ice creams. I’ve told them I’m scared I’ll get too skinny but they just laughed at me and gave me an extra few leg pulls to do.
Of course, the downside is I’m having to make sure I taste all my favourite foods at least 3 or 4 times between now and next Wednesday just in case by the time I am let loose again they have brought in a world-wide ban on empty calories and saturated fat.
But really, what if I do get too skinny?
I’ll have to re-stock my wardrobe and make giant dusters from my Big Pants. I’ll be whistled at by men in fast cars and hounded by local batchelor farmers. My husband will start to fancy me again. No sorry, that’s simply too ridiculous.
But one can’t be too careful. I think, on reflection, it is safer to just get old and fat.