In an attempt to start the long, doubtless painful process of fitting back into my clothes, I waddled along to the gym last night and, among other things, had a stint on the Power Plate - a fairly strange contraption which vibrates under your feet as you go about the business of doing lunges, squats, push-ups and other unpleasant sounding (and feeling) exercises.
Have to admit I'm not convinced how much I believe in this vibrating muscle theory, having studied for years at the school of thought which dictates that if it isn't hideous, it can't be good for you. Other lessons I learned during that time include 'if it tastes like crap it's probably low calorie' and 'those shoes may make your feet bleed but they look great'.
Still, if it's good enough for Madonna, it must be good enough for me, right? Now all I need is a red string bracelet, a career in show business, an adopted child that technically has a parent and Guy Ritchie. Easy.
4 days to Bruce!
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