Thursday, 7 February 2013

Davina McCall Took My Legs

Woohoo, I'm walking like all the other Homo sapiens again! It's been an interesting two days reenacting the evolution of man. I've gone from a stooped and limping chimp-like figure to someone who can proudly walk unaided to use to loo once more. 

For my injury, I blame Davina McCall. Don't trust her crocodile smile, she's out to cripple the world one person at a time!

I shall explain. I bought Davina's fitness app ( <---- it's here if you no longer want use of your legs) on Monday night because, shock horror, I didn't feel like going to the gym. I thought I would salve my conscience by getting a bit of at-home activity in. So I got the free version of the app and merrily lolloped around my bedroom in my pants to it, throwing shapes that a person in such a state of indecency shouldn't be throwing. I was lava lampesque in my wobbly exuberance. Fuck it, no one was watching.

Then I happily clambered into the bath with a glass of wine, popped Radio One on and screamed down the phone at my sister (is it weird to phone people from the bath? No, no. It's not weird. Skyping from the bath, maybe, but not phoning), who was also listening for the Reading Festival line up announcements ( <------ I'M GOING TO SEE BIFFY CLYRO AND SYSTEM OF A MOTHERFRICKING DOWN!!!). After I'd finished slopping merlot (I'm pretending - I only really know my wines as "red", "white", "pink" and "fizzy". Mmm...fizzy) around the bathroom, a lovely relaxing evening ensued.

And then the next day was a lovely day at work... as lovely as a day at work can be, anyway. All was normal and limbs were functional. Until early evening hit. I had myself a bit of a sit-down on top of my feet, because I'm actually eight years old, and when it was time to get back up I just couldn't.

My feet hit the floor, and my legs just said no. Nope, we're not carrying you around anymore. Sit back down, Fatty.

I somehow got to my car and headed home to lurch through the door and greet A. I held an arm out in greeting from my crouched position in the doorway. All I needed was a brilliantly timed flash of lightning to pull off an excellent Igor impression.


So, for the rest of the evening, A had a good chuckle at my expense, asking me to carry him a mug of tea that he'd left in the kitchen; later standing t the top of our impossible spiral staircase as I slowly made my way up on my hands and knees. What a sight.

Wednesday wasn't much of an improvement. I had to explain to my entire office that I hadn't shat my pants or stuck something large an uncomfortable up my bum, and endured a whole working day of grins and titters every time I needed to get something from the printer.

My trip to the library after work wasn't much better. The car park is pretty far away from the main building, and as it was a quiet night I risked it and parked in the disabled bays directly outside. I thought I'd got away with it until I looked back and saw that someone was at in the car I'd parked next to, watching me with an expression of scorn, obviously, I thought, looking for my disability.

"Shit!" I thought "limp!"

Followed by

"Oh, that's right, I am limping. And stooping. And wincing. That's not scorn on their face, it's pity! Oh, God, I'm going to Hell!"

Anyway, I'm better today. I can jog yet, but I can make it to the bathroom without flopping onto and dragging myself along the wall now, so that's a vast improvement. Davina McCall isn't out to get me, and to her credit, she did try to give me safety advice at the start of the app, but I swiftly silenced her in my impatience. My fault. No hard feelings, Davina. I still want to be your friend (LOVE ME, DAVINA!!).

What have we learned today, kids? If you're going to exercise, stretch first!

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