Confessions of Lisa Marshall.

Monday

I drag myself out of bed and head off to the pool for my usual morning swim. The main reason behind doing so is the hope of having firmer thighs and buttocks. And I do find it really enjoyable but there are the odd days when the speed swimmers are out in force.

When I first started going to early birds, I was impressed that the local pool had a wave machine. It didn't take me long to realise that the waves were, in fact, caused by a couple of swimmers who fancied themselves as a bit of a Duncan Goodhew.

I try to keep out of their way so as not to embarrass myself by coughing and spluttering when a tidal wave hits me. I'm one of those swimmers who does the breast stroke with their head permanently craning out of the water. I'm scared to put my face under. It's a big accomplishment that I can swim at all. I wasn't such a good swimmer when I was younger.

I remember sitting cross-legged in school assembly when I was 14 and the headmaster calling people's names to present their 200 metre and lifesaving badges. Because I wasn't even capable of such an achievement, I sat happy in the knowledge that I didn't have to get off my behind and walk to the front of assembly.

To my surprise, my name DID get called out:

"Lisa Marshall!" bellowed the Headmaster.

I looked at my friend Gillian in absolute shock. We were both poor swimmers and I whispered to her that there must have been some mistake and he was going to award me someone else's 200 metre badge. We giggled and I stood up proudly to make my way to the front.

"10 metres!" he shouted.

My face fell and I could feel myself turn scarlet. People started sniggering. But it got worse. By the time I reached the front and was accepting my certificate, the headmaster then yelled: "With a float!"

It was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. At least I wasn't the only one. Gillian was the next one up to be awarded the same humiliation.

The same can be said for my ability to ride a bike. Nowadays I'm often out for a cycle on the mountain bike but I think I was about 12 before I managed to take the stabilisers off my Raleigh Chopper.

I AM the first one in the office and I stick the radio on for a bit to listen to Chris Moyles. Very funny guy. It's true you know, women love a man who can make them laugh. The same can be said for Peter Kay. He has to be one of the funniest men on this earth.

So when Lucy strolls through the door and starts shouting: "Fancy a brew?!" while making `cuppa' hand-signals, I laugh and nod. We pride ourselves in the fact that we know Peter Kay's videos from start to finish. I really MUST get a life.

Whereas Heather, another colleague, is mad on QVC. It is quite the norm for our postie at work to be delivering Heather's purchases. (I think she gets them delivered there so her husband doesn't know the extent of her shopping addiction). We normally gather around her desk (postie included) to see what it is she's bought this time.

`Spandex Pants'.

I kid you not.

They're designed to "tone up, firm up, and reduce the appearance of cellulite". Heather knows I'm a sucker for good marketing and I pounce on them with excitement, (not while she's wearing them).

"OH MY GOD! They're just what I need! I want a pair!" I shout.

Heather nods and grins smugly in agreement, (proud that she was the first of us to discover the ugly oversized knickers that may change our lives forever), while the rest of the girls roll their eyes, shake their heads, and walk away.

"Lisa! You'd smear sheep muck all over you if you thought it would stop the ageing process!" shouts Vicki.

Too damn right I would.

Only last week I'd bought a leg mud pack that promised to lift and firm the backs of my thighs. While lying on the bed, bare-legged apart from the orange mud smothered over them, I sensed a burning sensation. It got worse and worse till my legs were on fire and I was running to the bathroom to jump under the shower. I swear it must have taken the top layer of my skin off. The redness has only just died down.

So if anyone knows a miracle cure for "firmer thighs and buttocks" or even knows if Spandex Pants are the answer to my prayers, then please put me out of my misery and let me know.