Thursday, 18 August 2011

Muffin Top? Yes, melted cheese please.

For some reason, I always leave a Pilates class feeling like I want to slap Gwyneth Paltrow. I'm sure she's lovely, but it's all just a bit too pure and wholesome for me. I can't help but walk out with an overwhelming desire to put all the toxins straight back in.

I have a similar problem with yoga. I've never been able to take it seriously since a friend of mine once let out a loud fanny fart whilst going in to Downward Facing Dog, so I have a Pavlovian giggly response the minute I'm in a class. Besides, I can never seem to manage the 'focus the mind' bit, and end up wondering what I might have for dinner. Not very Zen.

I've tried aerobics, but at 37 years of age I’ve STILL never managed to do The Grapevine. I simply don’t have the co-ordination for it. I can only assume that gene was replaced with a fabulous ability to seek out a bargain in Topshop. Personally I think the latter is far more useful and better to pass down to the children.

Since I stopped breastfeeding a year ago, my body responded as if it was one of those instant inflatables and up (and out) I went. Earlier this week, the words Muffin Top exited from my three year old's mouth and, given it’s probably a little un-PC for him to have picked up from Charlie & Lola, I imagine it's something he's heard me muttering under my breath. Not good.

So rather than just whinge at The Husband, I've decided that I should probably do something about it and that body pump will be my exercise class of choice. Largely because the loud, shouty music makes me feel like I’m on a night out, so it sort of acts like a double whammy for me (tragic as that may be). Although, am I the only one who looks like a complete prat when doing squats? Certain women seem to perfect that bum out 'as if you’re sitting down on a shelf' motion and still look sort of sportily sexy, whereas I just look like I’m trying to locate a loo.

Happily, amidst this week's soul searching for the right biscuit vs body pump balance, some lovely people have sent me a 'miracle' tummy flattening cream to review on my blog. Like a timely Fairy Godmother. It looks, and sounds amazing, and is apparently so effective that Boots are selling 100,000 tubes of the stuff every half an hour! It's called NIP+FAB ( and contains something called AmaraShape which helps to break down fat cells and generally tighten the skin around your wobbly bits, so mums are swearing by it for post baby tummies. Apparently I can literally lose inches from my waist, whilst sitting down and enjoying a cup of tea, which definitely sounds more appealing than abdominal crunches. I should see some results within six weeks so will be re-blogging how I get on. In the meantime, perhaps body pump can wait for another week...

So this evening, in my slightly bloated PMT state, whilst my head is saying go and exercise, my heart is saying go and eat some saturated fat. I have chosen the latter and am off to a friend's house to drink Rioja, eat cheese and maybe even have a naughty rollie. Sorry Gwyneth, not very pure, not very macrobiotic, possibly not even organic. But better for the soul (mine at least).

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