Of exercise and such like…

I have such an aversion to exercise that I could have all my teeth extracted without anaesthesia rather than set foot into the gym. Once upon a time I was pretty regular about my evening constitutional until it so happened that the heavens conspired against me and sent down a particularly limpet like creature who decided she would attach herself to me surgically and drag herself around the premises at a pace ten times slower than mine and insist on carrying on loud conversation about her dinner menu for the day, her woes with her maids and such like on rinse repeat.
After four days of being inflicted with her company, I took to stealthily evading the main campus and sneaking underground into the car parking area and marching to my different beat there only to find I was being glared at savagely by the teens who were trying to find safe places to conduct nooky and did not appreciate elderly ladies like self sneaking up on them as they round corners. After having startled three young loves into sputtering respectability I decided the parking lot was not the ideal spot to get the limbs moving, add to it the lack of adequate oxygen and light, and all my subconscious associations with basements and parking lots, which come from too many horror movies watched from the safe vantage point of a cushion between me and the television in case ghouls decided to reach out hands and pull me in and take me to the land of eternal horror movies on a loop.
And then it so happened that I got really busy. Doing what, you might ask, gentle reader. I would be hardpressed to answer that, but it just suddenly seemed like there was not enough time to do the things I wanted to do and reading seemed to be taking precedence over all things active and fitness related. The bottomline to all this rambling on is that I haven’t done a spot of exercise for over six to seven months now. My cellulite, which has applied for squatter’s rights and is currently brandishing ration card and pan card at me cheekily, errm, well, is definitely inviting over more friends and relatives from across the border to come live here and take up permanent employment. The arms could give Batman extra pair of wings if he fell short or if his cape tore off while fighting masked men. The stomach. Ah well, let’s not go there, I have to talk of it in the plural. And the plurals have a life and a jiggle of their own, and march to a different beat from the rest of me. It is all enough to make me put my head into my arms and weep, but my chins would protest.
Anyway, seriously though, I need to get back to some modicum of exercise, despite the fact that it is the monsoon season, whatever little rain it is that is happening aside. I do have a full fledged gym on the premises equipped with umpteen treadmills, competent looking trainers and very intimidating machines that I’ve stuck my nose at the glass window, much like when I pass a luxury store, bedazzled but terrified to step in. Maybe I’ll start with getting up to change channels manually. Yes. That could be the first step to getting an exercise routine in place. The second could be shaking my head from side to side firmly when offered food of break the skin cellulite calorificness and the third and the most important, to remove all trousers with elasticised waists from the closet and give them away to the poor and needy, and get back to doing the snake dance and huff and puff routine to get into regular trousers which were bought in better times, when the butt didn’t qualify for a zip code all its own. Yes. I’m going to start on an exercise. No, that’s just my neck practising part two of my routine.

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About Kiran Manral

Author of The Face At The Window, ( 2016), Karmic Kids, All Aboard (2015) , Once Upon A Crush (2014) and The Reluctant Detective (2011).
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