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Thursday, March 23, 2006

My Affair With Jim

Okay, that should be gym but Jim caught your attention, didn't it?

So, where to start? Once upon a time, long long ago (well, a couple of weeks before christmas) I embarked on my affair with gym. My aim was twofold: first to build up my calf muscles so the bottom of legs had more shape and didn't resemble a ruler; second to get rid of those wobbly bits under my arms before my holiday in April.

Not a huge ask, one would think. Wrong.

According to my personal trainer (well he was all mine for an hour when we sorted out my fitness level and he devised my program) I'd picked probably the two hardest things to work on. He wasn't to be detered. He put together a program for me that would've made grown men weep. But not me, because I had a goal, a reason d'etre.

At first I stuck rigidly to it, going to see gym 5 times a week. And man did I feel virtuous. After a while, however, the rosy glow began to wear off. I started to notice gym's annoying habits and resented having to share him. Soon I was deviously working out ways for my program not to take so long.... like missing out some of the cardio and doing the weights for my arms both together instead of one at a time. Then I started to miss out whole exercises. And now.......

Well, now I'm at the stage where I put on my gym clothes in the morning (as previously) except I don't actually get there more than a couple of times a week.

Anyway..... anybody heard of Oxycise..... I'm trying that next.

Sunday, March 05, 2006

Are We There Yet?

You know how the kids ask 'are we there yet?' before you've even reached the end of the road. Well, that's how it is between me and my email. Every 5 minutes (sometimes less.... ok, very often less) I'm checking for an email from my agent to see whether (in my wildest dreams) or whether not (as the more rational side of my brain insists will happen) an editor wants to buy my book.

And let me tell you, it's driving me crackers. You read all about the need to be patient in this business. How you should forget about it and concentrate on your new, begging to be written, latest potential bestseller (yeah, I know, I am nothing if not an optimist). Well, all I can say is:


It's impossible. I sit at my computer staring at the little green man on the bottom righthand side of my screen willing him to jump into life. And when he does, and a little box shoots up in the air telling me I have an email, the whole gamut of emotions charge through my head faster than a speeding bullet - ending in utter deflation when the email offers not the life-changing chance of publication but the life-changing chance of a penile enlargement. But, I don't have a penis.....

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