Now the bad news... I feel like shyte. I'm in quite a bit of pain and have been for days, chuck in 2 sleepless nights and a large dollop of self-pity and there you have it - one depressed girlie who's taken to her pit. As usual, I've brought it all on myself. Wouldn't you know it. Take one fab weekend in Bruges (mussels, chips, beer and a fair bit of walking on cobbles), a veritable orgy of exercise in an effort to get into a party frock, top it all off with a long sitting lunch yesterday and there you have wot's done me in! Blast and double blast!
This past week... I just haven't been able to get any speed out of my legs, it's like wading through treacle. My gym bag, containing just a clean towel & cozzie, feels like half-hundredweight of spuds! When I get tired I waddle, feet 10-to-2, it's quite unattractive. I hate my inner thighs and their hanging, wasted muscles, ditto attractiveness. My head is screaming, "get over it, won't ya" but my brain is rebelling; it's gone on vacation... I feel I've nothing to talk about 'cept this! I feel a hundred years old...
A bad week, that's all. All things are passing, patience gains all!
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