Funny Business

I am not a business person. In fact, an ex-boss once told me that I completely lacked any sense of business acumen (note, I said ex-boss). I did not take this as an insult....after all, I spent nine years of my life studying medical science, with the express purpose of avoiding spending my working life conversing with a bunch of suits in their uniquely irritating BS (Business Speak), 24/7. With all due respect to those who are actually in the business world, and who like to be pro-active...those who thrive on brainstorming, on getting their ducks in a row and then touching base to get a heads up on whether they’re singing from the same hymn sheet, before going forward and pushing the envelope out...at the end of the day, business is not rocket science (even if it does involve some blue sky thinking).

Nonetheless, I do still like to think outside the box....and even I can spot a really bad business decision when it’s going on under my nose (or rather feet). I’ve mentioned that I’ve started taking gym classes.... as, along with half the population, my rather unoriginal New Year resolution is to lose weight by the ‘Move-more-but-eat-the-same’ principle (I’m realistic enough to know that I’ll never eat less). The popularity of this theme, however, has resulted in some rather stiff competition for the limited number of places available on the aerobics studio floor. Luckily, I’d done my market research, discovered that demand was high and supply low, and have been cleverly phoning ahead to book one of those highly coveted 20 places.

At this point you may be forgiven for mistakenly thinking (as I did) that the reason for the upper limit of 20 per class is simple: the studio can only handle that number of generously proportioned ladies flinging their limbs about, in a desperate attempt to follow the nifty moves of the sprightly instructor, while not kicking their sweaty comrades in the head. Last night, 27 wannadoaerobicans pitched up...only 20 places, so 7 unlucky ones get turned away....7 regular aerobicandos, who were caught napping, didn’t judge the bullish market correctly and therefore did not expect their ranks to suddenly swell from around 7 to 27 (it’s January ladies!)

What you wouldn’t know (as I didn’t until much later in the game) is that there is in fact a larger studio available at the gym...one that is reserved for classes of 21+. So, given that said larger studio was not booked for any other activity last night and had in fact not been used for quite some time (tumbleweed was skimming across it’s once highly polished floor), anyone with even the most minute, invisible-to-the-naked eye quantity of common sense would see there is an easy solution to this dilemma, and that is....

*Drum roll*

Switch the class to the bigger (vacant) studio!

So, is that what the gym manager in fact decided to do? Hell no! Despite the valiant attempts of the instructor to convince him otherwise, the Dumb Ass was not budging...

Instructor: “But the larger studio is standing empty and you’re turning away 7 ladies.....at £4 a head, that’s 28 quid!”
Dumb Ass: “No. We need to keep the larger one available for a long-term let.”
Instructor: “I can see your point...but it’s not actually booked for tonight! Let us use it in the meantime...then when you do rent it out, we’ll make alternative arrangements.” (She knows the market....by February the numbers of wannadoaerobicans will have dropped back to around the 10 mark)
Dumb Ass: “No. Rules is rules.”

Just Chewing The Fat

Having a fat bum, hips and thighs is healthy....or so claim researchers at the University of Oxford in this month’s edition of the International Journal of Obesity. Any American readers please note, by “bum” I mean your rear, not some homeless person that sleeps rough and asks you for spare change at the traffic lights - you may prefer the term “fanny”, but that’s a whole different kettle of fish over here in the UK, and that is not for here....besides, when last did you see a chubby hobo?

Anyway, back to the bum story....apparently, extra weight on your hips, bums and thighs can protect against heart and metabolic problems, as slow burning hip fat sucks up harmful fatty acids and spits out a hormone called adiponectin that protects the arteries, and promotes better blood sugar control and fat burning.

Woohoooo! I can finally justify the significant presence of my lard arse....

Butt hang on, if having a backside à la J-Lo 'n Beyonce 'n Co. is the Next Big Thing, what the heck was I doing last night in the fittingly named “Hips, Bums and Tums” aerobics class of my local gym, desperately trying to reduce the size of my derrière? Yeah, yeah, you guessed it....with my new-found energy levels from all that strenuous hot chocolate drinking snowshoeing in Norway, I’m now on a new year fitness fling, along with half the population.

Not having set foot inside an aerobics studio for the last four ten years, I’d picked the H, B and T as the least frightening option. The other classes (Bodyattack, Bodyblast, Bodycombat, Bodypump) all sounded like they took place in a warzone and were highly likely to incur Grievous Bodily Harm. I was more than a tad apprehensive about attending the first session as I was sure I’d forgotten all the Jane Fondaesque moves (toe tap! box step! grapevine!) and would be the stumbling idiot at the arse end of the class.

But, as with most things you dread, it turned out OK in the end... the class was actually quite enjoyable and I didn’t faint, trip over my own feet (or anyone else’s), fall over clutching at my heart, slip in a pool of my own sweat, or get asked to leave and never return. I may even be up for another hefty dose of clench and squat next Tuesday night....big bums may be all the rage, but I still need to fit mine into last year’s jeans.

...........................................................................

Quite ironically, this was my 'fortune' from the cookie that came with the Chinese takeaway that followed the gym class (yeah, I’m really taking this healthy living lark seriously)....

I’m going to take this to mean....stop worrying about the size of your bum!

Everybody Was (Not) Kung Fu Fighting

I don’t condone violence, but I do think it’s probably a good idea to be able to defend yourself, if the need ever arose.

Just before Christmas, a distasteful little episode involving some rather pushy carol singers on my doorstep made me realise how unpleasant it can be when you’re placed in a vulnerable situation. Now before you start thinking I’m the sort to want to beat up innocent Salvation Army carollers, just because they’re a bit out of tune....let me elaborate. Contrary to my usual cautious approach of first finding out who was a-calling, I stupidly just opened the front door one snowy evening and spied four young lads (aka The Foul Four) lurking outside. Actually, I smelt them first....a lovely combo of cheap booze, cigarettes and the Great Unwashed. They promptly broke forth into a half-hearted rendition of “We Wish You A Merry Christmas”, then stuck their paws out, fully expecting me to hand over my hard earned cash. I toyed with the idea of chucking a quid at them....then thought sod it! While I’m happy to donate to carol singers who are collecting for charity, and always get in sweets for the local kids’ Halloween candy scrounge, I take objection to funding some louts’ vices. So I merely said, “Thanks for that!” and slammed the door in their pimply faces.

I had a really bad feeling about the outcome of this little scenario and snuck to the upstairs window, to check if they had left my property. What did I see? One of the youths appeared to be fiddling with the door of my car parked on the driveway, while another was peering with intent into the driver’s seat. Enraged, I threw open the window and yelled... “Oi, you lot! Clear off!” I think the sheer volume of my voice startled the bejesus out of them, as they started moving off...then one of the them turned around and spat, “You should’ve given us some money then, b*tch!”, while his mates taunted and jeered, showing me the finger. The final insult came when the uglier one of the motley bunch pulled down his trousers and exposed his somewhat paltry bits. Tempted as I was to request that the poor lad (who was clearly labouring under the misapprehension that his undercarriage warranted a public showing), wait where he was while I reach for my handy telescope, I refrained from further comment and silently watched them eventually lose interest and crawl back under their rocks.

After this delightful experience, I started to think seriously about doing some type of self-defence course. Up until then, I’d always felt really safe in our village, and frequently take long, lonely walks through the woods and farmlands around here. The sudden knowledge that there were nasty bits of work like the Foul Four living within slithering distance gave me the heebie jeebies.

B has always been keen on martial arts, and studied two styles of karate in his youth....he was never happier than when “sparring” in the dojo, with his partner in bloody noses and cracked jaws. He’d showed me a few basic defence moves....like the thumb-to-cheek bone-agony-inducer and the bend-fingers-back-bone-breaker, but it’s not quite the same as training in the arts oneself. So, when we came across an advert for a beginners’ Aikido course starting at our local sports centre, we decided we’d both give it a go.

Created by Morehei Ueshiba (known as ‘O Sensei’ or ‘great teacher’), the guiding principle of the Japanese Martial Art of Aikido is harmonisation, not confrontation. It promotes winning over one's self, rather than fighting with others, to develop a deep sense of peace and calmness. Aikido is performed by blending with the motion of the attacker and redirecting the force of the attack rather than opposing it head-on. The Aikido practitioner "leads" the attacker's momentum using entering and turning movements, completing the techniques with various throws or joint locks. Aikido has a simple ethic: if attacked, offer a sincere, robust defence but without hurting your aggressor. This attitude has been at the core of criticisms of Aikido and related arts.

For some pre-class preparation, B insisted on us watching 'Under Siege 2', which was coincidentally being shown on TV (as part of the Kick Ass Season), the night before the first lesson. While my mind did rack up the potential benefits of being able to defend myself against a multitude of knife-wielding baddies à la Steven Seagal, I didn’t really learn much from this particular homework.... apart from realising that the film stars a very young Katherine Heigl, more recently seen in 'Grey’s Anatomy', 'Knocked Up', '27 Dresses' and 'The Ugly Truth'.

So there we were in the first Aikido class (all 19 of us), lined up and barefoot on the mats....and the first thing I noted was that I was outnumbered 18 to 1 by persons of the male variety. Not a problem, I figured.....if I can practise with sturdy male opponents, I’ll be fit to face the burliest attacker. After a thorough warm-up, we were first taught how to fall.... a kind of controlled collapse by means of a folded knee and diagonal roll. Next, the tankan (a pivotal move on the ball of the foot) and tsugi ashi (moving the front foot forward, drawing the rear foot up behind)...before we progressed onto a combination of wrist twisting and arm gripping moves that would be useful for disarming an attacker bearing a knife or sword (this session included a bit of wooden sword action). Lastly, a series of smart moves, intended to disengage an attacker who’s grabbed you by the lapels.


All in, it was a fun evening and quite a physical workout. B is already smitten...he just has to unlearn all the karate stuff that he kept reverting back to and he will no doubt soon be well on his way to mastering the art. I know that I will be a slow learner, but I have decided that I will at least give the classes a trial month.

So, watch this space...I may well be Ninja Nat in the making....