Friday, August 08, 2008
Back to the Treadmill
Earlier in the year, i made a resolve to join a gym and go thrice a week, i had moved from a size 8 to a 10 and didn't want to go any further than that, some flabs were beginning to appear in the wrong places..i had to keep in shape so i registered, even got hubby to go with me a few times, trust me that was a huge achievement, lol. This was about the time i left my job so i had no reason not to go, i started out with a lot of enthusiasm, i loved working out so much i would never drop out!
My gym instructor was very impressed with me, i was very consistent and even lost 2kg, dropping from 65 to 63 kg in less than two weeks, i was happy with my achievement, my target was to go back to 60kg and stay there and keep fit..then i started a training program and it became hard to go to the gym although i finished in the early afternoons. I had sound excuses not to go and workout.
For a while, i maintained a lazy routine at home and kept promising myself i would go to the gym tomorrow or the day after, good thing is tomorrow never ends...se, all you procrastinators (i have a right to form my own English words seeing that Soyinka is one of my mentors) in the house, please nod your heads with me!
Then i got an assignment somewhere on the Island and stayed out till like 7pm most days..there went my gym resolve, out of the window! No more gym, it was a nice plan, it just wasn't convenient anymore, being busy helped my wwight remain constant but i had reneged on my resolve even on weekends...then gradually i let go of my routine at home and i was no longer exercising...i was back to my 65kg!
A few days ago, here i am months after leaving my last assignment and working from home, i took a look at my tummy and i didn't really like what i saw, looked like the onset of a bump, now that would be fantastic if i was pregnant but as my normal tummy, it's not really allowed so i started doing sit ups at home and hubby laughed at me asking me what happened to my plans to go to the gym. He reminded me of how he complimented me when i was going religiously and how i looked trim. I felt bad and took it as a challenge and i took the car keys, put on my trainers and off i went to they gym.
I hope i can keep it up...will maybe give you the details of the gym escapades later, though nothing interesting really there except for miss i'm sexy, i wear make up to the gym and i call the instructor every two minutes!
How many times have we started out on something that seems to be a very good plan, starting with a lot of zeal and passion and then weeks or months down the line, we get tired, or we meet some obstacles and we throw in the towel. Good intentions are never enough, what you do with the good intentions or what you keep doing with the good intentions is what matters. I'l throw this question to you, what will you do with what you know to do in the face of contrary circumstances? Would you just let go of your belief or would you press on and consistently do what you believe?
Anyway, enough about my gyming experience and philosophising...i'm working on a short story and want to give you guys a sneak peek into it, let's title it Escape...
Curtains open..reveal characters...
I woke up to plan my escape from a prison, not a typical kind of jail but a prison all the same. My husband or whoever he is to me went on a music tour and didn’t take me along. He is a musician, and I joined him as a back up singer out of admiration. He took a special liking to me out of all his singers and I felt privileged. I was too naive to differentiate between love and lust or the desire of a man to acquire a woman as his personal belonging.
I come from a very conservative home. My father was a director in the civil service while my mother was a primary school teacher. They had great plans for me; I was going to the higher institution to study Economics or Accounting after which I would graduate and do them proud.
Ola came to Ilu tuntun, the small city where we lived, on a performance tour and the organisation that brought him to our city called for auditions of young talents. He had given them the mandate to do so. I went to audition without my parents’ knowledge. I was only seventeen but I was wiser than my parents or so I thought. I knew if they found out, they would be disappointed that I did not mention it to them but I was also sure that they would frown at the idea. I registered for the audition and began preparing myself for my debut performance. I had a dress I wanted to wear in mind; the one that mother bought for me last Christmas. Everyone complimented me when I wore it and all the young boys around my area wanted to court me.
I would lock the door, dress up, and sing in front of the mirror, trying to imitate the artists I so much admired and watched on the TV all the time. Most days I would watch them and imagine myself on the stage instead of them. I was enchanted. Mother never allowed me to watch them until I turned sixteen and finished my Secondary education.
I had a secret admiration for them and a few times when I attempted to tell Mother how I would love to be like them. She would shake her head and say 'Tope, you will not become a harlot, not while your father and I are alive. No child of mine will be a singer, God forbid!’ She would snap her fingers over her head in the usual Yoruba fashion.
I decided not to talk to her about it anymore. She was too old fashioned anyway and I was convinced all artists could not be women of easy virtue. Sikira, our house maid suffered for it though as I perpetually bore her with tales of how I would one day become a star and sing all over the world and how I would then tell my mother not all musicians were loose people..... (to be continued maybe..hehehe)