Reignite your Va Va Voom’. ‘Ooh I could definitely do with a bit of that love,’ I giggled as I read the slogan on an advertising hoarding promoting a new red car.
So how’s your Va Va Voom folks? Quite possibly got up and gone.
I know it’s difficult in these chilly winter weeks to get into your gear and go out and exercise.
It’s much easier to stay cosy indoors in your PJs, munching on a handful of choccie biccies.
That’s probably one of the reasons why the UK is now being dubbed ‘the fat man of Europe’, as our obesity levels soar.
Recent figures reveal one in four adults in England is obese, and these figures are predicted to rise to a shocking 60 per cent of men, 50 per cent of women, and 25 per cent of children by 2050.
Golly gosh, that is shocking. Naughty fatties.
Hang on a mo, I’m a rolypoly. But there are muscles under my flab because I’m a Zumba instructor.
And I’ve danced all my life.
I’ve always promoted dancing , any dancing – ballroom, salsa, line dancing and the local tea dances as brilliant exercise and a great way of making new friends.
But why are Brits, especially the fellas, so resistant to dance?
They’ll use any excuse – too old, too fat, two left feet
Hey you may not be the next Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, or Beyonce darlings, but you can get out there, strutt your stuff and have FUN.
My late pa, Stan James, was born to dance.
He was short, stocky, and bald, but when he and Ma did their foxtrot, they lit up the dance floor.
Stanley would dance to the piped music in shops and the buskers in the streets.
He even danced the tango the length of the prisioners’ visiting room in Maidstone Prison.
Ah there’s a story I’ve never told you.
Maybe one day.
There are exercise and dance classes in church halls and community centres all over our city.
You’re never too old – one of my Zumba goddesses is 75 while another, with sensible eating, has lost five stone.
Come on folks, get some Va Va Voom back into your life.