In my 26.5 years I have found precisely two forms of exercise that I enjoy.
One, involves music, and moving my feet and getting sweaty to the beats of salsa, merengue, forro, bachata, gaffeira and samba, or wrapping my legs around a pole and swinging.
The second involves wrapping my legs around a different sort of pole, and also getting rather sweaty.
After a year of near-celibacy (apart from 3 delicious encounters) and a back injury that put an end to any dreams I had of becoming an exotic dancer I’ve decided to do something about my now flabby thighs and muffin top by returning to the latin scene with Zumba.
Tonight I went with Lady Smash and it was brilliant. Exhausting but brilliant. However, whilst I am delighted at the prospect of having cellulite free legs and a non-wobbly bottom, I have a very deep fear.
I am terrified that I will lose my boobs. The girls, since their sudden appearance in 2005, have been very good to me, assisting me in getting free mechanic repairs on my car, free drinks, service at crowded bars and intimidating my colleagues. They were, I thought, my meal ticket to the good life.
What happens if all this exercise shrinks them back to their early twenties state? I’ll lose my ego-boost that I get from having the girls proudly on display. Because let’s face it, it’s always the FIRST place you lose weight. I think it would be a truly wonderful thing if you could tell your body… “Please take the muffin top from my waist and transplant it evenly onto my right and left breasts, thank you”.
So readers, you may think I’m silly, but it would be like losing part of your personality.
I suppose the fantastic legs will make up for it in the end. And if the worst happens… well boob job it is.
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