In a fit of self-deprecation, I mentioned in my last entry that you don’t care what I say here. So you won’t care if I turn you into an invisible friend (but unlike the version I had as a five-year-old, who was the excuse for opening the car door while travelling at speed). You, my imaginary friend, have a purpose. You see, you are going to be my gym buddy.
Ha, I hear you cry, you can’t find the time to go to the gym. Your busy social life precludes you from even contemplating exercise. Well, my trusty invisible friend, that is but a weak excuse, and I am going to take you with me. I will not tolerate that lazy and unhealthy attitude. You see, you are gaining the pounds (don’t tell me you only deal in kilos), and I am going to be the one to make you go and exercise and lose the flab. I won’t listen when you say you’re going to the pub (you should have joined me in giving up drink), and I won’t tolerate you going to sit in the sauna rather than working out. I won’t stand for your nervousness when entering the gym, and I won’t listen when you say, ‘but everyone’s looking at me’.
No, my invisible friend, we are commencing a journey, and it’s for your own good.
And we start next Monday.
UPDATE: The alternative to you becoming my gum buddy was posting a picture of my ever-growing stomach on the site as a motivation. But then I thought I might be visiting you in the hospital as you recovered from the shock, so you can’t get out of it that way.
I didn’t mention this before, but I am rather pleased with myself for having given up alcohol for the whole of January. I don’t want you to think I’ve been craving a drink or anything like that, but I decided it would be good for me after all the alcohol you tend to consume over Christmas.
