Fluffy is a batcave term for carrying a few extra pounds. Or in my case, quite a few extra pounds. As the Savoy tickets arrived yesterday and I just booked our train I decided I needed to tackle my added fluffiness a little more severely. I don't over eat so a diet is tricky. I've cut down where I can and the fluffiness remains. (This is where Polycystic ovaries don't help in the fluffiness battle.)
I know that my problem is lack of exercise. Eldest dd and I went to a local health club today to try out the facilities and to see if I could justify the expense of joining. She, of course, loved it. My eldest is very keen on sport of any kind so it was her idea of heaven. I liked the pool, it was warm, had swim lanes and the hairdyers worked in the changing rooms. I can't see myself becoming a gym bunny however, to be honest, the gym scared me. It was so noisy with music playing and televisions everywhere, the machines all had to be set with numbers to program them - my idea of hell.
My GP has forbidden any kind of aerobic activity as my hip is not good so my other choices were limited. I'm too old, unco-ordinated and fluffy to trampoline so apart from the pool I'm thinking I probably wouldn't use the other facilities much.
Sigh - Eldest child and I discussed it at length and we decided to get the local leisure centre programme instead. If we can make at least two sessions a week there for six weeks I'll look at the posh club again.
In the meantime it's back to my trusty pedometer.