Ouch

Slightly off topic, but I've had an odd weekend so far visiting my 98-year-old grandmother. She's no as bad as I thought she would be, but conversations tend to get stuck in a loop after a while. It's a bit sad, but she's not gone bonkers thank goodness, just tends to bluff the conversation a lot as she can't see or hear much anymore. Still, she looks like a slightly frail 85 year old, not someone turning 99 this year.

Today, feeling my mortality somewhat, I've decided to take a bit of action. I'm currently seeing s physiotherapist who does nice things to my back each week, but who points out, for me, my headaches and screaming-as-I-sleep shoulder issues all boil down to posture. My family is famous for back issues, and it seems that despite my best efforts to avoid it in my early 20s (LOTS of yoga), being lazy the last two or three years has completely reset the issue and I now have a problem. The seeds of one, but a problem nonetheless.

So, to today. Having been very buff at the beginning of my twenties and very flexible, I thought that not too much would have changed. I'm still, after all, the same size I was then, being of the petite scale, and just turning 30 in a few weeks. Not too much has changed, surely. So I dug out my old yoga dvd and stuck it on a few intermediate sessions.

Oh dear.

I was totally exhausted by the end of 30 mins, which is all I managed to do. I'm staring down at untoned legs and wobbly belly (HOW????), which is unbelievably disappointing if you know you're still a UK size 6 jeans. I may have maintained my weight and size whilst eating what I like, and am incredibly grateful to the God Of Metabolisms for mine. BUT. Nobody ever warns you that even if you manage to keep yourself the same size through ten years of no-longer-having-to-eat-student-scraps, you still HAVE to do REGULAR INTENSE EXERCISE to make it not just lumpy and unpleasant scrawn. Which is, in my humble, so much worse than the larger, womanly buxomness, which is at least quite sexy. I am now feeling hugely self-concious, food-aware (which I HATE being) and unhappy, not to mention old. Suddenly my wrinkles seem deeper, my legs slapping merrily together as I walk, and my chin saggy. None of which are true, I'm sure, but it feels that way. All this supposed exercise has made me feel even worse than when I started.

I hate yoga.