How I've started to Jen up on Pilates
I have something in common with the Duchess of Cambridge AND Jennifer Aniston!
Like Kate, when I turn sideways in the mirror, I too look like I've just had a baby. And like Jen, I am now a convert to that last bastion of middle-class, middle-aged women everywhere, Pilates.
With luck and a lot of determination, I will transform my baby bump jelly belly into Aniston Abs.
And I will achieve this without ever resorting to the cliche of setting out in the evening with a yoga mat rolled up and slung over my shoulder, bottle of water and car keys in hand.
I will do it a la west Belfast upbringing: "Sure a towel will do y'just as well and you may walk to the class, sure it's only roun' the corner. Pay for water? Are y'mad?!? What's wrong with the tap?"
I realise I'm still a cliche -- single female, overweight, given to occasional bursts of enthusiasm for exercise which don't often last, brought on by bouts of self-loathing brought on, in turn, by hangers full of clothes that are "just a bit too tight".
But this time I'm serious. It's a whole new start. Given the circumstances, it's sink or swim here. And I may be heavy, but I'm no Titanic.