When I was younger my family used to say that I had webbed feet, and they might have been right. At school we were really lucky to have a pool and, although I wasn't a sporty type, I loved to swim. I even joined the synchronised swimming team (we were rubbish but it was brillliant fun) and sometimes swam three times a day around competitions.
Oh but that was a lifetime ago and I haven't swum properly for years. We take the boys most weekends but ducking and splashing just isn't going to shift the mummy spare tyre I'm carrying around with me. And approaching my late 30s I've finally realised that cutting back on the biscuits isn't going to do it either and so for the past few weeks I've been getting the webbed feet out again.
Well I still don't to be honest but I do feel pleased and a little bit proud of myself for getting off my increasingly large behind and doing something about it. I've been going for 6 weeks now and things are definitely less wobbly, flabby and flappy, if not much smaller yet. I'm working hard on it and definitely getting faster (40 lengths in 30 minutes today) so soon I think I'll try and step things up a little. Blimey - that's me talking, doesn't sound like it!
And it does make me feel better, I had a headache and achey neck this morning but it had all disappearred after my swim. So, like looks this could be the way to a new me, smelling of chlorine but a tiny bit fitter and with very curly hair (no time for all that straightening now). Roll on our Cornwall holiday. I'm determined to wear shorts at least once without dying of shame and summer vests without cringing at my flabby arms. Wish me luck - lots of lengths to go.