Fighting the Cape Town Paunch

I can hardly breathe, my face is glowing and I’m sweating like fat man on the beach. “Just go to your happy place, like fight club.” I think as I run, and run, and stop, and look at the chick running effortlessly in front of me.

Anyone who knows me well will tell you with not a single doubt in their minds, that I simply do not exercise, they have never seen it, therefore such a phenomena does not exist. But they would be wrong. I don’t like to exercise at gym, and I feel in a way it’s like weeing in front of strangers, you just don’t do it. It reminds me of a favorite quote –

Whenever I get the urge to exercise, I lie down until the feeling passes away.
Robert M. Hutchins

Gym for me was always just a nice place to spend the morning reading, and of course some talent scouting, conjuring perverse thoughts about the guys training in the pool, best am activity, and then the clever Virgin people even opened a Kauhai in the gym! She shoots, she scores!

Which all brings me to the next issue, my serial slacking, excessive drinking, serious lack of excerise and late night visits the the 24 Woolworths have all had some involvement in the creation of my Cape Town Paunch.

Let me explain, the Cape Town paunch is a large and protruding pot belly caused by simple geography. Proof, I know thats what you want, so do a little test with me. Think of the last time you saw a Jo’burg coo girl with a paunch? Nope, didn’t think so, it’s kinda like seeing one without her Guess handbag and Gucci shades, doesn’t happen.

I blame the mountain, and everyone that lives here. Finished. Try and get a (real) capetonian woman to go for a run with you instead of doing the laps in Caprice on a Friday evening, near impossible. The mountain, lean against the mountain man, no grey area there.

Seriously, we have the best restaurants in the country right on our doorsteps, pure evil if you love food as much as I do.

But halt, because as they say, fortune favours the blonde. I have found a choice solution to the endless imbroglio between James (my paunch) and myself, it is Bootcamp and dried Cranberry chewy things.

Three times a week, I go to st Cyprians school to exercise, what a trip! Under the watchful eye of a gorgeous blue eyed Jewish blonde girl, sergeant Shelly, we run and squat and do man push-ups (not me, not yet) crunches, speed skater(don’t even ask) and then we run some more.

For the first time in my life I enjoy exercise, and thanks to sergeant Shelly, James is well on his way to a long deserved holiday in puerto rico, and I am getting skinny again.

With that mountain moved, all thats left is to not eat like a salvation army orphan at a Sunday buffet, dried cranberry thingies can become the tasty snack of choice, and as for the drinking… a little friskey whiskey never hurt a soul.