I Wish, You Wish...

Don't we all want to be in perfect shape, preferably with zilch effort.

No, this is not an idle question.

Ok, I admit it. The sins of the past - or at least the last few weeks, months actually, but who's counting - seem to have caught up with me.

It's like this. The holiday season rolled by like the icing on my cake, and with it came some serious partying. Every manner of indulgence - picture the 30 something family types and their idea of fun. For us that usually means stirring as little as possible; we entertain, but sample all offerings generously beforehand, then there's eating out, take outs, yada, yada. And of course, when other people cook, one eats. Can't disappoint the host now, can you.

Food, drink, snacks, desserts, late nights, no nights, movie marathons, you name it, we did it. Basically, calorie central for the couch cucumbers.

If there's food, can the pounds be far behind? A few weeks of fun and what a price one pays. Eventually, the pinpricks of conscience managed to sting the ever so thickening hide.

Shedding the inertia, and armed with firm resolve, I hit the gym, finally. But the reality check came rather swiftly, and very rudely at that. Thirty elliptical minutes later I was gasping like a beached whale, hoping to be carried, if not to my car then at least the nearest water fountain. The lady at our local Y told me that apparently enrolments and attendance at the fitness center go up hugely every January. Aha! At least I'm not the only guilt-bitten one. Except, in my case, the laziness pre-dates a lot longer.

But never mind that. So thrilled was I by my foray onto the treadmill, I came home and decided not to let the leftover mango pudding go to waste. It tasted great, even if I say so myself.

One measly week into the New Year and I'm feeling philosophical already - frankly, it's no use sweating the small stuff.

Like they say - whatever (flab) will be, will be.