Fit Mum is a personal affront to most ordinary mummies. Her bouncy stride, the jaunty ponytail, the tiny lycra shorts encasing glutes so fierce they could crack walnuts, the relentless cheerfulness, the super-toned arms (without even a glimmer of a bingowing to be seen)… it’s a carefully honed package designed to deliver an instant dose of depression.Ordinary mummies automatically suck in their tummies when FM comes into view, vowing fervently that the diet starts tomorrow while surreptitiously checking out her taut rear as she passes. But what they don’t realise is that FM is a basket case without her daily dose of crippling cardio; the poor woman is practically a junkie, a slave to the endorphinoverload. Added to this is the fact that neither sugar nor fat has passed FM’s lips for at least a decade and that the highlight of her day is measuring the circumference of her thighs every night before she goes to bed, and you’ve got a major excuse for a full-scale pity party.So next time you see FM’s long and lithe legs making short work of the school corridors, smile sweetly and remember this; she may boast cheese-grater abs and zero sag, but you’ve still got wine, chocolate and croissants… so what’s a little muffin top between friends?Most likely to say: “You’ve got to check out the new Safa Park boot camp. They work you so hard I nearly threw up. It’s awesome!”
Least likely to say: “I went on a mammoth carb frenzy last night, must have gained 3kg from the pasta alone… God, it was so worth it though…!”