I think I could be dead!

Am I going mad?

Now you may not all agree with this, but I think I’m a relatively level headed pragmatic individual. Not prone to delusional episodes or paranoia. However, I think I could be dead. No, I’m being serious. I’ve just had to check that I can’t walk through walls and haven’t suddenly become invisible to the naked eye. This afternoon I had an appointment at the opticians at 3.10. I arrived in plenty of time, walked up to the reception desk, gave my name and my appointment time and sat down patiently to wait. Approximately 3 minutes later another woman walked in she also went up to the reception desk And said “Hi I’m Sian Llewellyn. I have an appointment with the optician at 3:10.”

The Twilight Zone

I thought I’d entered the fucking Twilight Zone! And by the look on the face of the receptionist I figure she thought she had too!

Was this a parallel dimension where we’d crossed over to the afterlife following a gruesome accident.  Some kind of out of body experience. I was expecting to shake hands with St Peter at any moment.  The only thing that managed to convince me that I hadn’t shuffled of this mortal coil was that the other Sian Llewellyn, poor mare, had a broad Rhondda accent and was literally twice my size . Pouring her oversized body into my new jeans would be like attempting to pull a bathing cap over a shed.

Old age and getting fit

Anyway since we’re now on the subject of jeans I may as well tell you that recently I’ve been trying to stave off the rigours of old age by attempting to get fit.

Since the start of the new year I’ve consumed precisely 4 carrot sticks 3 lettuce leaves and a glass of celery juice which has inevitably resulted in some weight loss.  Last week I finally managed to squeeze into size 10 jeans for the first time since the 90’s. I was feeling pretty smug, but my delight was somewhat short lived.. because for reasons I will never fathom I was then persuaded to join the gym by my work colleagues. When I say persuaded what I’m really referring to is extreme coercion…(you know, the type you’d expect after Boris was caught accidentally sexting the head of the FSB whilst at a swingers party with Liz Truss.)

I was forcibly dragged to this fools paradise full of delusional women and men who couldn’t pull their pants up without breaking their arse! All in the name of personal growth.

If you thought that living on a diet of carrot juice and leaves for 3 months was torture then trust me when I tell you that going to a gym for the first time in 25 years is a pain so indescribable that frankly I’d prefer to extract and eat my own kidneys. Not only was it excruciating but it was also downright dangerous if you ask me.

Gym who?

The entire place was a murky pond of amoeba like individuals, overdosed on botox and lip fillers and sliding like ectoplasm between instruments of torture. There were sanctimonious bastards doing one fingered press ups. Skeletal women in lycra so tight it could be better described as cling film. All in all I’ve seen better dressed salads.

Now I’m all for making the best of what you have, after all I’ve spent the last 22 years working in the beauty industry. (I say that somewhat loosely since I’ve actually spent the last 2 decades enacting my hobby of painting nails.) But committing oneself to a program of self inflicted torment and abuse seems a rather spurious way of creating a spot of self improvement. It’s about as interesting as going to a Tory Party Conference.

Since when has striving for an arse the size of sub Saharan Africa suddenly became an international goal?

It’s just not for me

Anyway I’ll save all the other imponderable questions for another time. After several spurious attempts at jogging…all of which proved to be unsuccessful, I’ve decided I prefer eating to this misery. All this healthy living stuff just isn’t for me. Someone of my advancing years needs to find a more sedate hobby. So I’ve chucked the trainers in the Taff. If you need me I’ll be down the pub with a pint of cider and bag of scampi fries….possibly more than one.

If you have enjoyed reading ‘I think I may be dead’ then I’m sure you’ll enjoy the rest of my rants, I mean blogs! Click here and brace yourself!