Going back to the gym!

I’ve started going back to the gym.

Yay me!!

It’s been over ten years since I’ve entered one, so on Monday, just before 9am, I tentatively set one trainer-clad toe over the threshold.

It was scary - so many lithe, fit young things in gorgeous gym wear, barely breaking a sweat as they worked out. Pert bottoms, tiny waist, coordinated Lycra.

And then in I waddled. Supermarket-chic leisurewear, leggings hoiked up to somewhere just beneath my boobs and a T-shirt carefully selected because it covered my arse.

I nearly bolted straight back out of the door and off to Greggs. In fact, Greggs seemed the far more sensible option. There are no StairMasters in Greggs.

Nobody expects you to do a plank you may however look like one. And the only six-pack you’re likely to encounter is a multipack of sausage rolls.

But then I thought, no. I’m trying to put a positive spin on everything in life these days. So instead of feeling intimidated by all these gym-honed bodies, I decided my being there was actually a public service.

One glance at me, red-faced and sweating in my supermarket chic, and they must immediately feel bloody marvellous about themselves.

So really, I wasn’t just going to the gym for me.  I was doing it for them. I’m such a nice person.