Beautification Project Week Seven

Seemingly, Jonny's weekly sessions are not unlike getting up the duff.

My body is seemingly now public property. Not a day goes by when someone's hand doesn't wander down to squeeze a stiffened thigh, or the polite offer of a punch in the stomach. It's a little uncomfortable, sure, but everyone, including me, is pretty impressed with the results.

In seven short weeks, my body has gone from resembling yogurt in a bin bag, to a much tighter, leaner, firmer form. Perhaps, more remarkably - and Mum and Dad, please sit down for this - I'm liking exercise.

Deep breath.

Let me qualify here. I'm still a whiny git during sessions, trying to distract Jonny with highly personal questions and tales of my wild youth. I also make soft mewing noises begging to stop, which makes both Taryn and Jonny peal with laughter; but there is a point - towards the middle of the session - where I just go into my head and say: "hey, this is all going to over in 11 minutes and 42 seconds. I can do this."

And, as we've all discovered, my intensely competitive nature does translate well to fitness. This week, Jonny shows us a one-handed one-footed push-up, saying soon we'll be able to accomplish this ourselves. In response, I get down on the floor and do, well, two and a half. I then collapse into a whimpering, shaking mass. But, for someone who, before Jonny, has only done one ladies push-up, once - back in 1987 when Miss Willoghby said I'd fail PE if I didn't at least try - the progress in outstanding.