*As if you'd put on your best scanties and then go out and deliberately fling yourself under a moving vehicle all the better for the A&E staff to admire your impeccable taste whilst picking bits of your person off the tarmac.
Also, there's something quite encouraging for reluctant gym bunnies about buying new kit - it's not exactly inspirational, but it does vary the monotony a little. And monotony there is by the square hectare at the gym. Urrrrrghh, it is So. Very. Boring., especially on the days that my gym buddy doesn't show and I have to put in my lonely miles on the treadmill without the respite of conversation. There are only so many thinks I can think before my Inner Couch Potato starts the Seditious Whispering, and to my horror last time I went, some close descendant of the Marquis de Sade was - gasp - making toast downstairs from the cardio suite and had left all the fire doors open, all the better to waft the zephyr of carbohydrate concupiscence under our innocent noses.
And then somebody sneezed. Wetly. Explosively.
If you'd managed to hook all our rolling eyeballs up to a Van der Graff generator at that precise moment, our combined voltage could have blownthe sneezer straight across the room. As it was, we just kept calm and carried on. Proving once and for all that the Spirit of the Blitz is alive and stalking the land.
Gladiator sandals! I wish I could find a decent pair. Maybe they will be popular enough to trickle down to the strappy leather kind I used to wear as a teenager.
ReplyDeleteArgh, my brain has picked up the post title and is playing Wallace & Grommit music at me.
I have gladiator sandals, but they are breathtakingly uncomfortable to walk in for any distance, since they have over-authentic leather soles with no shock absorbtion. Also, I can't get my big plastic orthotics in them, alas.
ReplyDeleteA person needs a good sports bra, though. I once strained one of the muscles in my ribcage through wearing one that wasn't chest-compressing enough, and you definitely want to avoid that.
I don't mind the gym once I'm there, but I do wish I could read on the treadmill. Exercise bike, maybe; treadmill, no.
(My word verification is "boiddle", which is clearly a fine Scots word for... something. Only what?)
If they are size six, then Daughter will happily take them off your hands. Feet, sorry.
ReplyDeleteYou should dress every day as if you are to be scraped off tarmac. It's a scout thing. Be prepared.