Chapter 3

When Penny returned home that first Monday night - the first, that is, of her new healthy life - she felt like death. Never in her wildest imaginings would she have thought that a few simple exercises, indulged in over a lunch break, could cause such aches and pains in every bone, every joint and every muscle and nerve ending of her poor young body! Why had she ever allowed herself to be seduced by that memo and gone on to subject herself to such appalling torment?

As soon as she had changed into casual wear and fed the ever-hungry Mr. Smith, she prepared herself a strong gin and tonic. A voice within spoke severely and urgently to her. She paused, the glass only half way to those sweet and ever gently smiling lips of hers. With a sense of utter amazement at her own bizarre and frightening behavior, she carried the glass out to the kitchen and poured its contents down the sink. Things were soon to get worse - a lot worse!

Returning to her lounge, she opened the drinks cabinet. One by one, each and every bottle was opened and its precious inebriating fluids sent to join the gin and tonic on a long journey through the sewers to the sea, or wherever. “There’ll be a few pissed rats tonight,” she thought! Having performed this tremendous and doubtfully sane deed of self-denial she looked long and hard at the cat.

“You’re getting as fat as I am, Mr. Smith - and it won’t do!”

A look of hurt passed over Mr. Smith’s furry face at these words. He loved Penny very, very dearly, but she could be extremely tiresome when in the grip of one of her latest fads! Despite his initial resentment, however, he was soon to adjust to his new dietary regime, especially when his regained slimness and virility made him such a wow with the local queens!

Having so dramatically resisted temptation by discarding all those expensive beverages, she turned her attention to the fridge. Cream - OUT! Butter - OUT! White Bread - OUT! Peanut butter (yuck!) OUT! and so it went on, until all that was left were the kind of things she had once read about as being “Good for You.” She slept fitfully that night, with angry rumbling noises from her stomach keeping both her and the rebellious cat awake.

In the morning she rose early and donned her shorts and trainers (and top!) for the first time in two years. She let herself out of the house, looked around to make sure she was not observed, and started running. She had only got as far as the end of the road (not a particularly long one) when a pain in her side caused her to stop and bend almost double, gasping with pain. If it wasn’t a stitch, it was a full-blown coronary! When she did not slump in agony to the ground, she decided it must be the former and resumed running, forcing herself to keep going through the pain. She went round the block once and arrived home, drenched in sweat and not in a particularly good mood, for once in her life.