Life, kids etc.

Eat, pray, love, cry

English: A senior citizen while practicing his...

Getting fit can ruin your weekend

FRIDAY night used to be something to look forward to.
TFI Friday and all that. Party time.
Now, though, I dread the arrival of Friday night. And every seven days, a new one pops along to ruin my week.
I must point out that this hell is entirely of my own making.
It started innocently enough, just a couple of months ago.
Myself and Mrs Short decided we needed to lose a bit from the middle and do a bit more exercise. We’d both been thinking about it, independently, for some time.
But that Sunday afternoon, when I couldn’t pull myself all the way off the settee and reach right across for that last Fillet o Fish, we realised the time had come.
“What we need is some sort of challenge to keep us focused,” she said.
After half an hour of lively debate, we hit upon this: whoever loses the most weight at the end of the week gets to pick a film for us to watch on Friday night.
Granted, it’s not the most out-of-the box idea we’ve ever had, and to be honest I preferred some of the ideas we ruled out – loser has to lick batteries being up there with the favourites.
But at the end of that first week when my three pound loss crushed her measly one pound, it was time to choose. I plumped for Watchmen, a live action retelling of a wonderful comic book thriller, full of violence and fallible superheroes. I thought we’d both like that one. And at three hours long, there’s plenty to enjoy. Unwittingly, it was a declaration of war.
And ever since I’ve been spanked in the weigh in.
Ever since I’ve been forced to sit through some of the most syrupy, girly, rom-com tat ever made.
The thing is, she hates it as much as me, I’m sure. But each week I have to endure this very peculiar form of 21st century torture.
It come to a head last week when she bought – actually bought – a film called Eat Pray Love. It should have been called Worst Film Ever. The woman in the shop even warned her not to buy it. It’s basically two and a half hours of Julia Roberts trying to “find herself” by travelling the world after her divorce. No one she meets is remotely interesting. Nothing she does is remotely interesting. It’s pretentious (based on a book). And I’ve never felt less sympathy for a lead character in any film. And yes, I include Driller Killer.
Having said that, I did watctch the last five minutes of the directors cut on the DVD extras, just in case she got killed by Somali pirates as she sailed off into the distance at the end. No such luck.
Now the battle is on. I’ve ate like a rabbit ever since. A rabbit with an eating disorder.
I’ve also been doing extreme fitness DVD workouts each night, ditched the car to walk a couple of miles to work and back every day and even – may God have mercy on me – done pilates. Which ironically is the name of a kind of whale.
Still, she keeps on winning. I have no idea what her secret is.
She says it’s Bride Wars tonight.
I hate Friday nights.
Leave a comment »