I'm writing this to inform the world that Gertrude or no Gertrude (that's my tummy), I'm still in pretty good shape. I rode my non-state-of-the-art bicycle from the farm to town in thirty minutes flat. Its mostly uphill, too. Pauses to admire thighs. Good thighs. Powerful (but not too thunderous) thighs. Sighs.
It didn't work out well, though. Although I was spared any stiffness of the muscles, Gertie (the tum) and Jenny and Penny (the lungs) conspired in a revolting revolution and I am shamed. Yes, shamed, I tell you!
Thing was, I thought I might impress and surprise the DBF (delicious boyfriend) by arriving at his work around closing time. We could then go for drinks and a snack (treat's on me), chuck the bicycle in the back of the pickup and meander home in a well-fed haze.
However, the best laid plans of mice, men (and more often than not, MM) are often foiled. DBF's gorgeous colleague wanted to come along. Fair enough. Then DBF's gorgeous colleague wanted to do some workaday bitching (and lotto dreaming), which wasn't at all what I had in mind.
It was around about then that Jenny and Penny (lungs of fame and endurance - you don't know what I put them through) started to play up causing MM (that's me) to become tetchy. MM (see how I distance myself from this!) proceeded to inform DBF and gorgeous colleague that they shouldn't pin their hopes on the lotto and should stop complaining about work and actually do something about the situation.
She (The silly bint, MM) then compounded this faux pas by adding that since they weren't doing anything about it, they probably were exactly where they wanted to be (At least for the moment). 'The time is now!' she declaimed 'Live! If you are where you want to be, be happy! If you aren't, move on!' - something like that, anyway.
As you can imagine, this went down like a lead balloon. So while DBF and gorgeous colleague were expostulating about how very dreadful things are, and how they can't do anything about it, Gertie did a little wriggle and MM had to run for the loo and throw up the dinner, returning to an atmosphere of constraint.
Good one, MM!
Went to the doctor on Saturday and spent the weekend in a medicated daze. Relapse caused by excessive exertion. Smart move, MM...