A news article caught my eye the other day.
Seemingly by doing just a few regular household tasks, you can pretty much stay in shape.
The article went further by saying that you could ditch the gym and other exercises simply by ironing, hoovering, cutting the grass, and washing the floor.
Oh, yes, life is cruel.
If all this was true, I would be like a beanpole.
Unfortunately, it appears to me that it takes much more than hundreds of spring cleans to turn you into Claudia Schiffer.
The fact is, this sort of thing should be true.
We women go through a lot, and after all we do in pursuit of a lovely, clean home, the least we could get in return is a 24-inch waist.
But, no such luck.
Definitive proof that God is not a woman.
“Don’t bring God into it,” my mother said after I shared my views with her.
Practically blessing herself at the presence of her blasphemous daughter, she muttered something about how I should stop moaning as my house was no show home.
It’s all her fault, you see.
I can never, ever remember the house being untidy when I was a little girl.
It just didn’t happened.
I have no recollection of sitting on the floor, surrounded by toys, with random bowls of food around me and an assortment of drawing pens and paper.
Don’t get me wrong, I had fun growing up, it’s just different now.
Children completely take over the house with their belongings.
My grandson can honestly be in my house for 10 minutes, and it’s transformed into a mix between Toys R Us and the local tip.
Some children even have their own playroom.
This is to ensure the parents can have a ‘good’ room ready for visitors, and a place where toys are banned and mucky paws prohibited.
We didn’t have a good room when I was growing up, but our house, small though it was, was always immaculate.
So I grew up, like my mother, making things tidy, and it snowballed from there.
I’m not one of those obsessive complusives, mind, I just hate mess, clutter or dirt.
But perhaps if I did have OCD, I might get skinny at the same time.