Today is a sad day. It’s the first day of the rest of my life without a big beer belly.
You see, years of self abuse down at the pub (pints, for those of you wondering otherwise) has taken it’s toll, and no longer can I sit idly by as my waist line continues to expand to accomodate, for the want of a better word, my pure liquid grain storage system (beer belly for any techies out there).
No longer, at the grand old age of 23, can I blame the hamster cheeks and love handles on youthful puppy fat.
Yes my friends (and you too, mother), it is time to take action. Let it be said that on this day, 12th May 2006, I, Peter Claridge set forth on a journey of great peril (and, for some reason, a gold ring), accompanied by fellowship of dwarfs, wizards and the true heir to the thrown of Gond….
…oh, wait, wrong journey. That happens next week, my mistake.
So yes, I’ve joined the local gym and swimming centre for a mere (imagine!) ÃƒÆ’Ã†â€™ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã…Â¡ÃƒÆ’Ã¢â‚¬Å¡Ãƒâ€šÃ‚Â£45 a month for unlimited gyming and swimming. Great deeds are often done in the darkest hour, and a dark day it is when I can no longer get into 32″ (or was it 34″?) jeans!
A plan has been laid, action will be taken. Youthful exuberance (thank you google for teaching me how to spell) will return and marathons I will run.
Hmm, well. We’ll see.
(OOOooo, link at all the pretty weight loss ads Google has decided to give >>>)