Gertrude is starting to get slightly vexing. She's placed me in a quandry. I didn't invite her, although I might have created conditions that are attractive to her. I've decided something's got to be done.
Gertrude, to the uninformed, is the little belly I seem to have acquired in the last year or so. Since I was sixteen, I've weighed the same most of the time. I've had an active job that required physical strength and fitness, and I've been in good shape, even great shape. My only weight problem in the past, has been getting too skinny so that my bones stick out. (Yes, you hate me already, I know)
Of late, my habits have become more sedentary. I'm given more office work and I spend more time in the office. I've also been eating well, which is something I'm unused to. Hence the arrival of Gertrude.
I've been trying to ignore her, I've never dieted in my life and I've always scoffed at the idea of exercise for its own sake. Its a bit like dying my hair, which is another thing I don't do. In the 'I don't do that' (with twinge of pride) sense.
So I started by giving my hair a colour rinse. Goodbye grey, I sort-of liked you, really. One down, two to go. Then I came up with an exercise program and a diet. It goes like this:
Take Gertie for a spin on my bicycle at least three times a week. That's the exercise. Stop drinking beer and start drinking whiskey. That's the diet. I feel triumphant. I'm also pleased that I'm doing more girly stuff, because sometimes I think I'm letting the side down and ought to be more feminine.
Today's pic: a very feminine shop I saw in Stockholm. 'Mum's underwear'. Mind you, I mightn't get as feminine as all that!