Maybe the only way I’ll gym regularly

Hubby’s turned into this gym freak (his words, not mine) all of a sudden, and our conversations have taken a whole new twist. Thanks to this new carb-less diet he’s on in an effort to look like Will Smith, I have become – for the first time ever – the unhealthier of us two.

The first couple of days on the diet, I offered him a chocolate after dinner. He looked at me in horror. “Chocolate is unhealthy.” I snorted and ate my Ferrero Rocher.

Yesterday, I read one of J’s Tweets out loud and mentioned that he was having a productive day. “[Eating] wan tan mee is not productive,” hubby informed me snootily. Err… right.

On Friday we had dinner at Wendy’s with some friends. I had a baked potato, a tub of chilli and a small chocolate frosty. Hubby had a salad with spicy chicken. I eventually persuaded him to help me finish my chilli but he wouldn’t touch the frosty. Then he went out for a beer with his fellow carb-less buddy. (You don’t eat potatoes but you drink beer?)

Last night, he suggested I become a gym freak too. Me? A what? What would I do in there? I can’t go on a treadmill without watching something. You could read, he said. Well, that’s what I used to do on the bicycle machine whatever you call that thing. It’s a lot harder to read on the treadmill. I’ve tried. But… I have been wanting to exercise more.

So I’ve decided to give hubby’s offer some thought. Maybe I’ll go once a week. Or twice. It would mean I’d always have a gym buddy. And I do like a good sweat out. One of my unspoken resolutions this year is to get fitter. I could get in some regular exercise, work up a half-decent stamina and at the end of all that, I’d eat a chocolate. After all, someone’s got to finish them.