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Trousers of Truth

I have a pair of jeans that, unlike my daughter's snapchat filters, don't lie. They are moralistic, unmoving and not at all like my girl friends who, after several large glasses of Sauvignon Blanc, can bend the truth without flinch.

Like a lie detector test my trousers of truth wait patiently inside my wardrobe. I ignore them most of the time by consciously uncoupling and choosing their nearest cousin - the legging. I know I'm feckless.

On occasion however I pluck up the courage to try them on. The rest of my day and the happiness of my nearest and dearest hinge precariously on this bodacious move.

I tried them on yesterday. It did not go down well. Or rather up. I could pull the zip up but not breath, move or function. The muffin top I must say was impressive. So much so that I ate two of Lidl's finest Christmas muffins that had been languishing in the pantry to celebrate.

I blame lockdown. I blame cheese. I blame crisps. I blame booze. I blame global pandemic. I blame Terry's chocolate orange. I blame my jeans I mean genes.

My gym is shut. I am at a dead end.

Alas I cannot be like Trump and live in denial. I shall put on my forgiving lycra gym kit in the vague hope that I will do some sort of lunges as I head toward the fridge.

Maybe I could try the Cha Cha Cha ...

Her jeans are baggy. Blah!!!

I type this back in flanelette elastic waisted pyjamas - my BFFs. Jeans safely back in the wardrobe for another six months. I am considering learning the tango and 'Strictly' speaking it would be a waste not to finish the cheese which is 'A-MAZ-ING' and the bottle of Oyster Bay that was already open right?

What are you doing to stay fit? Please share some lockdown ideas!!

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