Not me. I am not smart enough to think of this.
It wasn't enough for me to proclaim my one act of physical fitness on 'The Book'.
Obviously it warrants an entire blog post.
In the interest of bragging.
And just in case it doesn't happen again.
Friday morning I happened to spot my running shoes while looking for a pair of shopping shoes.
Sadly, they fit and are in good working order, thus leaving me no excuse to forego exercise.
So I went for what I like to refer to as a 45 minute 'run'.
It's usually more of a half arsed jog interspersed with frequent periods of power walking while gasping for air and holding my side.
Once, back when I first took up 'running', an old lady from my street stopped on her mobility scooter to ask if I was okay. For real. It was the catalyst for taking up running up and down the inside of my house until I had built up a degree of fitness that wouldn't scare senior citizens on the footpath.
Friday was my first 'run' since my tummy tuck 3 months ago, so I had been worried that I'd need to be scraped off the side of the road and stitched back together while being resuscitated.
Thankfully, it went relatively well. The ratio of 'running' to 'power walking' was slightly more in favour of 'running'. Surprisingly, no gasping for air and clutching my side.
Instead of basking in my semi-success, I immediately questioned how to ensure maximum people were aware of my athletic pursuits?
So of course I took to Facebook - both personal and blog accounts - and wrote those status updates everyone hates, that are clearly intended to let everyone know you're going somewhere / doing something / drinking / cashed up / on holiday / have just done something which puts you on a superior level to those sitting at the computer.
Mine was the last one - because I had done actual bona fide exercise.
Thankfully, some of my athletically inclined friends saw my status update in amongst their regular Newsfeed posts about vitamin supplements and fun runs.
I was praised, I was encouraged to continue.
There was much glory in which to bask.
In fact, I was so smug that I participated in my first National Walk To School Day in 4 years. I walked to school to pick the kids up, and walked home with them.
A couple of concerned parents asked if my car had broken down. But I reassured them that I was walking by choice. They were confused, so I explained that I was walking off the Triple Cream Brie and wine that was soon to be consumed, which made more sense to them than me choosing to walk for no apparent reason.
By the time we turned the corner into our street, I was half dragging The Twin Tornado, determined to get to that creamy cheesy goodness mere metres away.
Which is like power walking with weights.
I was like Super Woman. Fitness Barbie. Zena Warrior Princess. Shera. Wonder Woman. All of them rolled into one. No exaggeration.
Saturday I awoke slightly stiff. Which I expected. Nothing I couldn't handle since I'm so fit and healthy.
Saturday afternoon I could not bend over. Which, I'm not going to lie, was inconvenient. Still, no pain no gain.
Sunday morning I wasn't sure I'd be able to get out of bed, and was considering DIY catheters.
I spent the day emitting a soft whimper pretty much constantly, while trying to breath in a gentle manner so as not to further irritate my poorly stomach muscles.
Essentially, the most active I got all weekend was going to the bathroom (no luck on the DIY catheter front).
I'm not entirely sure one 45 minute 'run' covered the cheese and wine plus an entire weekend with as little physical movement as was humanly possible.
Unfortunately, I had prematurely bragged to the school Mum's on Friday arvo when picking the kids up. Before deathly pain had set in and my body had seized up tighter than #1Hubby's wallet when he catches me online shopping.
I'm convinced they now consider me fit and healthy and one of those regular exercising type people, no doubt impressed by the way I talked it all up pre-pain.
So now I'm thinking my best option is doing school pick up / drop off in a Nike tracksuit and runners, hair up, sweat bands on, make up free.
Don't do it. Just fake it if you can't possibly bear the pain of making it.
My own personal Nike slogan*
*Which I am totally patenting if I can work out how. Call me, Nike, and I'll put on a fake voice and pretend to be my Agent, and we can talk advertising campaigns and brand representation. It will be huge in the anti-exercising underworld. Have your people call my faux people and we'll discuss percentages and appearances and other such endorsement buzz words.