Today I've been mainly checking up on other blogs and reading through them - Waiterrant's new site (which is fabby), Overworked and Underfucked (which is bloody hil-AR-ious at the moment), Lioness, CarpeDM etc. I've been home alone all day with the laptop all to myself, tired of being nagged and hassled. I then realised that if I just hoovered the living room I could blog all night, so I got to it.
Problem, vacuuming tends to stretch my soul more than exercise ever should. There's something so 50's Style denial ridden about mincing around with this spider-killer that repulses me about hoovers than anything else. And, I hate it more when they don't work and end up trashing them. I hoover so little this doesn't matter, but since money is tight I have to be careful and when this supid hoover messes up I spy my Dad's stairmistress. To me its the piller of godliness - clothes horse, muscle maker and elegant looking all at once, its a brilliant machine to help you get fit. Dad won't let me use it for some reason (no reason since he doesn't know about my problems), but today it was to be all mine. I had been waiting to use it for months. Throwing down the vacuum and turning up The White Stripes I pounced on it and started grooving. Much to my horror I couldn't last long on it. My asthma came back to me and my leg muscles were screaming after like 2 minutes and I had to grab some coke. It came back to me with a jolt that my generation was to be the first to die before their parents, and I could see it clearer than how any teenager is supposed to understand death.
But it still surprised me. Even though I'm size 18 I'm as fit, or fitter than most of my size 8 friends. I'm also a bit of an exercise freak when I get going, or when I'm in really bad places. I've exercised till I've blacked out, vomited or collapsed. I'm used to exercising for two hours after half past midnight. It's a bulumic badge to have endurance in the stupidest of forms. Yet being "ok", I couldn't do the stairmistress for more than five minutes. I can feel the bulumia monster rearing up again. I have to master the stairmistress, and get off my lazy arse before my Dad does something about it. Now I have to go and make dinner like I'm perfect or something. Sorry for the substand blog post, nothing is happening!!