Most people make new year's resolutions. Mine usually kick in a few months before the end of the year, usually somewhere in spring, when I realise that summer is fast approaching and that the image reflected in my mirror is not something I'd like to share with other semi-naked strangers on the beach.
This year was no exception, and at the end of August I joined a private gym whose owner opted to become a personal trainer, because torture chambers have been outlawed.
Needless to say, when I joined, I thought that by December I would have the perfect bikini body with a tummy resembling an iron board. A real babe - albeit a 50-year-old Gogo babe.
Although I can definitely see an improvement - for the first time in my life I have something resembling calves and I am strong enough to open my own jars of jam - I remain a one-piece swimsuit candidate. (Sorry Mr Torturer, I still eat jam. The real thing, with lots of sugar!)
Unfortunately, if you don't follow a strict eating plan in combination with your exercise regime, your newly found muscles remain covered in a layer of fat.
"Ilse, I only control what you do for one hour a day when you are inside my gym. What you do when you walk out the door, [on wobbly legs, I may add] is up to you!"
And the scale doesn't lie. Although I do. I don't own up to the ice cold glass of wine or the bread and cheese. But he knows.
Sometimes I get the feeling he takes my insubordination personally. Especially when I weigh in on a Monday and I've actually gained a kg or more.
After all, when his clients play along, he gets to see the amazing results of his individually designed workouts. So, ignoring his eating plan, I am denying him the pleasure of seeing the true results of his hard work.
How this weak-willed jelly fish of a woman must irk him. Alas, this jelly fish has a taste for the good life, and unlike Michael-John Zurnamer, aka the torturer, I refuse to believe that a glass of wine with a meal is pure indulgence. After a hard day's work it's pure necessity!
But I have a lot to thank Michael-John for.
For the first time in my life, my spring time resolution is actually evolving into a new year's resolution and, believe it or not, I actually intend to continue getting up at 05:40 every morning to go to his gym for as long as my body allows. It's good to feel fit and strong.
But alas, while I have access to cold sauvignon blanc, beautiful gorgonzola and freshly baked ciabatta, my personal motto regarding the perfect beach body will have to be: "You've got a body! Go to the beach!"
Have a merry, merry Christmas - I hope the crackling is good.
BY ILSE SCHOONRAAD, GEORGE HERALD EDITOR
