All right then, ladies and blokes. I’ve become a fitness fanatic. Bloody hopping mad about good health and all of the other things that go nicely along with it. So, here’s what I thought. I said to me self; let’s talk to the codgers out there who have stayed the course, reading me blog and all. Let’s for a treat, give them a peak into the life of a large, shapely woman and how she’s managing to keep in shape these days, shedding a few pounds here and there.
In order to live a long and happy life, you need to have balance. What does this mean to anyone who is reading this post? From what I can tell, it all depends on each and everyone’s own needs, I suppose. Each to his or her own, I always say. What works for one may not necessarily work for the other, is that not so, hey? Doesn’t it also depend on personal circumstances too then? One lady may have a rather full plate while another might have oodles of time on her hands.
What is married life then, if not for the birds? To me, it seems as though birds are always in love. I’ve noticed this before sometimes about the birds in the sky and in the trees near our home in Lancashire. The birds that I’ve seen migrate all the way from Africa, just as we did, are always free. They can fly. No other species can say that much about freedom. I’ve noted that if they are not zipping about looking for food to feed their young with, the male birds anyway, are always preening themselves in readiness for meeting their partner.
What is a random chit chat, by the way? Does anyone know the answer to that? It came by way of an idea introduced by one of my friends who, in turn, kindly volunteered to give the introductory notes to this here blog of mine. It was her suggestion, really. She suggested that I live up to my reputation in real life and continue to be the garrulous old girl I’ve always been. She said it’s a soft theme to use in a blog because it means you can pretty much talk about anything under the sun that tickles your fancy.
Do any of you remember that old pop song from the eighties by Australian singer, Olivia Newton-John called ‘Let’s Get Physical’? Round about that time, pretty much all the girls were going about hopping mad, jumping onto the fitness craze bandwagon with their then-stylish leg warmers and sweat bands around their blow-dried hair. I tried to join in then but I couldn’t keep up. Apart from looking bloody ridiculous with a skimpy leotard stuck all the way up my bum which was reminiscent of an elephant’s behind, I found myself running out of gas once too often.