Madonna; marvellous woman. Wouldn’t want her love life but her arms are something a girl might covet.
To this end, and as I have elected for a sleeveless wedding dress and confess to a degree or 20 of bodily vanity, I have enlisted the help of a personal trainer and charged him with giving me Madonna like limbs. (Kind of regretted this, as he has taken me at my word.)
We’ve been working together for a couple of months. Press-ups feature a lot, as do kettle bells. When I began working out years ago, I remember doing bicep curls, tricep dips and the odd movement with a barbell. Fast forward 15 years and exercise got that rather more difficult. It’s not enough to move one muscle at a time – you’ve got to use a few of them at the same time and get a wee bit out of puff too.
Working to fail seems to be pretty popular these days too. It’s no use to pick up a 3kg weight (no matter what Tracy Anderson says, I think that the lean body weight she promises is more to do with the starvation diet than anything else!) and lift it 50 or so times without breaking a sweat. Trainers these days prefer you to lift really heavy weight, struggle and only manage 10 or so.
Groaning, swearing, cursing the trainer and the woman who brought him into the world all seems to be the norm with such sessions. But it’s all part of the journey to something (better muscles, living mindfully through exercise, doing something when you think you can’t etc etc) so er… watch this space?!