Jogging and Bras
Inspired by a bad case of puffing to cross the road, I decided to try and use my running machine for running rather than hang clothes on.
I had two exercise bras-unused, a rapidly expanding waistline care of lockdown and a free “couch to 5K “app on my phone with all sorts of famous people claiming that not only had they done it but I could too.
What was there too loose?
The first week started with a five-minute walk and a three-minute jog. I switched on Neil Diamond and by the time “Cherry Cherry” had finished I was sweating like a Camembert in the sun. Not the best half-hour I have spent despite Neil’s greatest hit, in fact, it sort of put me off, Neil.
The first couple of weeks were tough I have never jogged before but I had made up my mind to follow this app to the letter. Each time I made it to the five-minute, walk cool down I celebrated with a sweaty tossing of the bra ceremony.
There is nothing like the flinging off of a tight bra to cheer a woman up.
Five weeks later the half run flashed by and I feel great. My hips haven’t shrunk but I swear when I hold my stomach in I have definitely lost weight.
The Masking Of A Joke
I do a spot of caring on the side. When the council has run out of options they turn to me, the last woman standing to offer a full body wash to our elderly and handicapped.
Its something I used to do all the time along with scrubbing out fires, collecting folk’s pension and making beds-the good old fashion bounced a penny off a tight sheet way.
Regular testing for the coronavirus is part of the joys of being a carer along with wearing PIP equipment.
The first time I wore one I nearly passed out from my breath, I soon learn the importance of dental hygiene in these social distancing times.
As I entered the testing I was told by a nice young man who looked like he belonged in the Scouts rather than the army to “stick this down my mouth.”
“It’s a long time since any young man has asked me that!” I laughed which went completely over his head.
As I tentatively tapped about my mouth trying not to gag he told me to “go deeper, longer, and to encompass both sides.”
Plenty of jokes raced through my mind but spinning double entendre mid gag is not as easy as it looks especially when your audience is masked up covering any indication of amusement.
Then he told me to thrust the same cotton bud up my nose and to “Keep going till it hurts”.
Not the sort of thing a woman likes to hear with or without a drink. I poked and prodded for what I thought was 10 seconds but apparently my idea of 10 seconds is an and out job too soon and I was forced to "re-enter ",as he so armlike put it.
Of course there was a whole speel of instructions about wrapping, sealing, and closing with as “little air as possible” the cotton Bub.
But the joys of double meanings had gone for me besides in this new world of mass wearing it really is hard to tell if you amuse or displease your audience.