I’m not sure if it was the sight of my shrinking editor or the call of the mankini, but I have plunged head first into intensive training at the gym once again.

Upping my visits from twice to five times a week, I’m doing a mixture of cardio (running on the bloody treadmill going nowhere or cycling my box off with cooking shows on Foxtel in front of me) and weights.

My gym partner is none other than Ms Fiona Soleil herself. As we have similar schedules, our workout plans fit perfectly. We’re striving for the same goals, and we’re both lazy so we top up each other’s lack of willpower.

It’s our third week at City Gym, and everything seems to be going swimmingly, with early starts each morning. Our Xmas shandies are reduced to a minimum, and protein, salad and fruit top the menu.
Last week Fiona decided to take me to my first yoga class. To be honest, it was my second class.
When I was at high school, our hippie Society and Culture teacher decided to take us through a yoga class.

We were told to be as quiet as possible, due to the acoustics of the hall. This was like waving a red flag in front of a bull, especially to 20 17-year-olds.

We stretched out and were talked through basic meditation exercises, through a barrage of snorts, giggles and fidgets. Just lie and let yourself go. Don’t worry about noises or sounds. Relax your body, the teacher told us in her best monotone.

Cathy, the loud girl, took this literally and let out the biggest fart you could imagine. With the teacher furious, we were marched back to the classroom. Scared by the possibility that I too could enter that relaxed state, I stayed away from yoga till last week.

By the time we got to Boy Charlton Pool, where the yoga class was held I had clenched myself into a knot. Our instructor Grant was great, showing us all sort of moves, from the Frog to the Infant. I was tied up like a pretzel. Stomach rumbling, I was assured by Grant that certain moves promote digestion and everything was good.

We left with no embarrassing noises coming from either of us, and promised to come back the next week.

Not long till NYE so I had better get back to my Mooing Cow position. I’m not sure what that is supposed to help, but I’m giving it a shot anyway.

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