Wednesday, April 14, 2010

A Miracle

Yes, a miracle, I am witnessing a miracle-in-the-making, I'm telling you. Three weeks ago I started doing the Tracy Anderson Mat Workout, something I had been hankering after for a while as I was getting all nice and flexi with my yoga. I started yoga almost a year ago, doing it religiously most days and can now bend over backwards which, for someone with a spinal injury, is one heck of a big deal. But, you know, I am no different from the vast majority of women out there who aren't really after flexibility but the body of a goddess. I cannot expect ever to Look That Good, as not even sixteen hours worth of weekly gym turned me into the fleshy version of the Venus de Milo, but I think that thirty is a bit too early to jack it in and a wardrobe filled with clothes that cost more than an Aga is worth working (hard and out) for.

And now, I am witnessing a miracle: my body is changing and very rapidly to boot. I know that this Tracy Anderson has a reputation for knowing how to chisel a body, but I've often thought that it isn't her association with Gwyneth that makes her worthy of my stamp of approval, for Gwyneth has always been a weed and toning up as a weed is infinitely easier than toning up as a watermelon. The real poster girls for the Tracy Anderson Method are the women whom she puts through their paces on the lesser-viewed YouTube videos she's got and not the professional actresses or singers who are underweight by two stones as a matter of course.

I've done the whole programme fifteen times and, I kid you not, I can see side grooves running lengthwise by my tummy (never seen such a thing). My humongous bottom is being lifted from the middle, the top of my thighs is reducing in size by the day and I've even developed little biceps. I've never seen anything like this this fast. I need to warn you though: this isn't for wimps. For the first week, the gasps of agony (during and after) stirred my dogs, which is really quite something. They did not move from their beds but did look up at me on a few occasions looking more than slightly concerned. And with reason, I'd say, as walking around, getting in and out of bed, picking up my arms to reach the keyboard were tasks that brought grimaces to my face and little gasps of pain into the open. After a week it got better. After two weeks the agony disappeared. Now I work through it without making a sound, only leaving a small puddle of sweat at my feet.

But, dear friends, the results are outstanding. I cannot wait to see what I will look like by my birthday. You know what the say... lots of pain, lots of gain.
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