The struggle is real

#CurrentMood

I did the middle-aged spread shuffle this morning.

I was damned if I was going to lose the battle between my waistband and my favourite Levis.

It took a few minutes of jumping up and down.

A few more of sucking in.

And, finally, the victory dance of doing up the zip.

Thanks giphy

I could buy another pair, but that would be admitting defeat.

I won’t.

Just like I won’t go to the loo today, in case I can’t do them up again.

I’m religiously going to the gym.

I can now kick-start a Boeing.

Squat like a broody hen and climb stairs like they’re Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven.

I’ve given up carbs.

I’ve forsaken chocolate.

I can’t remember what a potato chip tastes like.

What I can’t do yet is fit into the bloody Levis.

Maybe I can blame it all on impending menopause.

Maybe the washing machine shrunk every item of clothing I own?

Both are preferable to blaming my expanding girth on myself.

Maybe it’s gas?

To listen to the sheer genius of this song, link to the YouTube video:

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I write because I have to. It is a compulsion. I do it to vent, to laugh and to remember. I blog because it has been so long since I had to write with a pen that my hand would go into cramp if I tried to write a journal.

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