Writing for Fun
February 2016
The Vanishing - Joan Bond
I first joined an exercise class four months after my son was born. I used to love the chocolate pudding in the baby food and as he was always a fussy eater I always finished his up.
It was only when the doctor asked when my next baby was due that I realised how fat I had become.
Anyway I went off to the library and found a notice that promised if you started with the class you would be able to see the weight vanishing. It was called the League of Health and Beauty, a well known class at that time, and we had to wear the uniform of a white satin blouse which was long, tucked under you with a button so to keep tight and, get this, black satin knickers, not tights or shorts. One size to fit all. I did in fact, plus a bit of dieting, which incidentally, I did for the next fifty years, start to lose the fat and really loved the class.
I never could do Yoga or anything that was slow, I had to give it all that to fast music.
I made many friends one who I still see today. She incidentally still goes to a sit down class with her husband, he is 94 and has fallen off his horse and broken so many bones he can only do the class three times a week, when he is not riding his bike on his paper round.
As a group we joined a demonstration at the Albert Hall for one glorious day. Ten groups learned the same routine and when joined together on the day it was great, no one took a step wrong.
More lately with my aerobic class of now, we have twenty five or so and a lovely teacher. She is fifty and was a dancer thus we have warm up and then a dance routine before ending with a shot at netball. Poor girl we are all over sixty five and so many have had operations that she has to watch if different ones are not doing too much, but its great, we sing to all the music as we go and I even get hugs from many, there is one lady who has so much arthritis and is quite rotund, so when she crushes one to her bosom you feel wanted as soon as you get your breath back. Well I really must get my arm muscles tough again, I don't reckon Jessie next door will be using her weights anymore, she is ninety nine now, wish she didn't have that drum set though – its sometimes eight o'clock at night before she finishes playing if she has a gig at the church; but I have some brick laying to do. My son is pretty good, though, he knows I love gardening etc and says when I get too old to do it myself he will help me out . . . it is his garden wall that I am going to build . . . thinks!? Hang on a minute . . .
My other son is just as confident in my capabilities he is waiting for me to go to France again as the sitting room need re papering; it's a ten roll job and I remember last time I put one sheet the wrong way up. He's never wondered why he has a long curtain halfway across one wall told him it was covering a crack. I am in the process of going again and, sad to say, there are two new, great grandsons there and they are just starting solids . . . guess what chocolate puddings!