Adventure Boot Camp is 4 weeks of hell.
There is not one moment of joy. I get really excited when I get asked to grab my yoga mat and the sun has gone down, because I live in hope that I will be doing final stretches and then stand around and clap like a seal, and be allowed to go home.
I am the oldest and fattest person there. I am last in every possible activity.
This is not a cry for help or affirmation, it is a fact.
There are girls that laugh and giggle throughout – meanwhile I am attempting to hold my bladder in and not shit in my pants. I am wearing lycra and even in my fairly elementary understanding of sport’s wear I realise that a large lump of poop in my pants will be noticed.
It is a difficult hour – I swear and curse a great deal. I am amazed I have an apron for a stomach that often tends to lie against my thighs —- I wish to die right there and then.
I never walk away happy. I limp away in relief that it is over.
The endorphins do not know how to find me. Possibly I need to do one of those location updates on my phone, maybe they would find me then.
I wore a Simple Minds t-shirt last night – concert in Cape Town 1995 – that I think was older than most girls there. 1995, they were embryos, and I was considered underweight.
I miss those days.
It is all tragic, and sad …. and makes me long for my quiet time eating a McDonalds McMuffin, my large chips and large Coke Zero. See the problem?
Tell me again how much a gastric bypass costs … and what you need to do to qualify?
Pop over to Adventure Boot Camp and {like} the image, I think I win something.
It might be lipo-suction, and a free session at plastic surgeon …. or a stomach pump …… or a head band ….. right now I would settle for home made pasta and about 27 liters of wine. I am too exhausted to pay attention.
True story.
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