Keep young and beautiful...

>> Sunday, 5 August 2007

Stop the press; I have discovered a gap in the market for a great motivational tool for gym users. Those of us who have ‘work’ to do on our physiques should be issued with some kind of virtual glasses that show you what your body could look like if you kept it up 3 times a week. Instead, of course, they put all those torture instruments slap bang in front of the mirrors to remind you what the results are when you don’t… And yes, I know that it’s just as easy to look at the babes on MTV writhing around on the 300 tv screens positioned directly above said mirror, but really, the Pussy Cat Dolls? If I wanted a lap dancing show I would not go to the gym. Of course, I could watch the other gym users, but with a few blessed exceptions their physiques just remind me how good I used to look – not that I knew it then of course. 2 pregnancies and one c-section later even size 12 seems a distant memory… I must, I must, I must increase my bust – and decrease everything else.

Onto more important things than my losing battle with the scales - potty training

August 15th

Had a breakthrough yesterday. Not only did Son #1 manage to stay in the same pair of pants all day (yes, Mickey was saved from a watery grave), but he actually asked to use the potty before his bath – and then delivered. Hal-le-lu-jah! Not sure why or how it happened – possibly because I had the taps on full blast to encourage him, but happen it did.

But today – well let’s just say that will teach me not to count any more chicks. We started OK, but within 15 minutes of the Mickey pants going on I found him leaning on the loo in the bathroom delivering his morning poo. Into his pants. Was reduced to empty threats like ‘If I put you in Mickey pants and you wee in them, Mickey will get wet’. Was rewarded with a look that clearly said ‘Of course he will Mum – isn’t that the point?’

In brief, am feeling downcast as he then refused to use the potty at all – and after so distinguishing himself yesterday. Even worse, my student phobia has returned and I have no doubt the bath was more than tap water by the time he got out. Ho hum.


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