Week Two


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And another inch off my waist, fo a two-week total of 3.5 inches!


Keep in mind, the first week in particular, I was practically living in the things so my result is whilst wearing them more than the recommended 8 hours a day.

That won’t be the case for Week Three, I can tell already. It’s bloody hot here, yesterday topped out at 31.5c (about 90f) and because it rarely gets that hot here, NO AIR CONDITIONING!


Old people need air conditioning!

So, the best I’ve managed the past couple of days is just sleeping in them, which is still the 8-hours plus (I like my sleep!) but if results are linked to the amount of time to spend in the Fit Britches, I expect less of a¬†result at the end of this week.

But I will persevere! I promise!

As an aside, to any of you, I pose this question:

If I were holding onto a garden hose and shouted to you whilst you stood next to the hosepipe, “Ok, turn on the water!” would you know what I meant?

Would there be a question?

Would you be able to act upon my request without further clarification?

(Ok, that’s three questions, sorry)

The reason I ask is because I ran into this exact situation whilst asking my husband to turn on the garden hose. I didn’t think it would be difficult.

I thought wrong.

After shouting FURTHER instructions (such as “JUST TURN THE BLOODY WATER ON, TURN THE KNOB ON TOP! NO, DON’T UNSCREW THE HOSE! JUST TURN THE WATER ON! ) I had to walk back and turn the water on myself!

I love my husband to death but sometimes I just have to shake my head at him.

Or a stick.

Sometimes I want to shake a big stick at him.

Hope everyone is enjoying the weather if you’re having fabulous sunshine like us! There is nowhere more beautiful than South-west England when the sun is shining!

Have a good one!

(Oh, and I haven’t decided yet about the pictures. I’m leaning towards posting them.)


Day Twelve


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Not too much Fit Britches news. I managed to wear them all day, despite it being very warm, but most of my day was spent watching the Tour De France, lounging on a chair and playing Sweet Tooth Candy Saga, so all-in-all, it wasn’t a very strenuous day.

One note, after the Fit Britches have now had a few washings (machine washed, on 30c degree’s, mini cycle) they have shrunk a bit in the length and the ankles of the leggings are a bit looser, so almost two weeks in, they are losing that “I don’t mind wearing these with a t-shirt over the top whilst I run to the store” look. I imagine after another week or so they will be resigned to “around the house” unless they are covered up. I’m not really bothered, I didn’t think they would be suitable for wearing outside the house at all, but in their new state, they certainly were.

Day Eleven


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Blimey, it’s getting warm. I’m regretting not following though on my brilliant idea a few months ago to buy a room air conditioner before it gets hot. I somehow feel embarrassed to rock up to the aisle of air conditioning units at B&Q, like some saddo who doesn’t plan ahead and melts in 30c degree temperatures.

So instead, I sit next to my trusty oscillating fan and sweat.

Which makes wearing FitBritches rather uncomfortable. Today we are having a family BBQ (outside, of course) in the sun and my not-so-brilliant idea went awry when I sent the husband to B&Q to buy this MASSIVE tilting brolly which you can adjust in all sorts of directions as the sun moves. I figured it would work great to shade the 8 people sitting at the table to eat and make it possible for my to wear my sausage casings.

I underestimated the “breeze” blowing and as husband was assembling said brolly (you weigh it down with paving stones laid across the cross-shaped bottom) he laid only one paving slab over it, stood on the paving slab, and turned the handle to expand the brolly.

The wind immediately caught it and launched the MASSIVE brolly AND my husband over the wall and onto the lawn about 5 feet below.

I didn’t laugh.

Really, I didn’t.

Ok, maybe a little.

Once we hoisted it back over the wall and I saw his face, all sweaty and beet-red, I sent him inside and had a little chuckle to myself.

We ended up with the little table brolly up, 6 old people in the sun for 5 hours and me without my Fit Britches.

So, I have no news. I slept in them instead, which was fairly comfortable and still gave me my 8 hours in them. Until the weather cools that will probably be the plan, so I may have a little less news about them over the next couple of days, unless you want ot hear about the trials and tribulations of stretching them back up at 3am after a trip to the loo.

Which, I must agree, isn’t really that interesting either to read, or to write.

But we shall see!

Day Ten


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I could have died.

I almost called for help.

A little background:

I am an avid walker. I love to walk. I’ve been doing it since I was a teenager. Every evening I would go for a walk for a couple of hours. At that time it was just to get away from my parents (who, in all honesty, I REALLY thought were aliens from outer space and when I went to bed each night they peeled their faces off and turned back into aliens) but now it’s my exercise of choice.

If you see a slightly overweight, short woman in her fifties slogging around with her Nordic Poles, that’s me. I usually do about 30 – 40 miles a week. I live in beautiful countryside and every time I go walkies I think I couldn’t live in a more beautiful place. I get home all refreshed and even though my paws ache a bit it really sets me up for a good day.

Until yesterday.

Once a week I do what I call my Major Walkie. It’s about 10 miles and includes two Category One climbs. I’m pretty good at it now after doing it each week for about 6 months.

But I’d never done it on a hot day wearing Fit Britches and a Skinny Top. I was okay for about the first 5 miles. The last five, not so much. I was pouring with sweat, breathing (i.e. GASPING) for air. There was no shade. The usual endorphin high never came. I had to sit down on the side of the road and put plasters (band-aids for my American readers) on my feet.

I had my phone, I could have called my husband to rescue me (like I did when I’d found a lost dog) but I’m a stubborn old cow. I kept going.

It took 3 hours and 15 minutes. Finally got home, and I bent down to take my shoes off and found I couldn’t stand back up. Hunchback of Notre-Dam-like I staggered up the stairs and into my husbands office.

“You don’t look very good, darling. You’re very pale…” he said.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

It was horrific. I was kind of green. Not Kermit-green, but still, I was green.

I layed down on the bed until blood returned to my head.

I won’t be doing that again.

Day Nine


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Got absolutely hammered yesterday so no blogging.

In fact, I barely remember the day at all.

I’m sure I had a good time.

I just can’t remember it.

But nothing is broken or missing and my husband is still talking to me, so I must have behaved fairly well.

Today is going to be a “lay on the couch and get caught up on General Hospital episodes” day whilst my liver recovers. I don’t expect to have much Fit Britches News because when I lay on the couch, they lay on the couch, and that doesn’t really make for exciting stuff to blog about.

Unless you count Luke being radioactively poisoned by the earring Helena put on him whilst he was being held prisoner and unconscious on the Haunted Star and LuLu getting her memory back after being cryogenically frozen (and how cool is it that she woke up without even a shiver!).

Day Seven


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As my Muslim friend says in his Egyptian accent every time I offer him bacon…..


2.5 Inches off my waist!


In one week!!

I need to sit down.

I need to bless my Britches.

I need a drink.

How did that happen?

I wore my Fit Britches at least 8 hours a day (usually more) and they WORKED!
I am almost speechless.


I did learn a lesson yesterday. Don’t mow three lawns in 28c degree temperatures wearing them. I almost had a meltdown and then I was so hot and weak I couldn’t get them off.

So I just layed on the bed until I came back to life.

2.5 inches

I think I need cake

Day Five


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(Day Four was too boring to write about)

But not Day Five!

I had to go out early and the weather is FINALLY hot so I went to do my errands without my Fit Britches on and guess what happened?


I found myself walking through Morrisons thinking, ” I miss my Britches….”

How sad is that ?!?!?! LOL

But it’s true. They squeeze and support you and your bum feels like it’s in the capable hands of the Spandex God. I felt . . . naked without them. Unloved. Uncared for. Underwear no longer does it for me. I NEED MY BRITCHES!!

So I scampered home and put them on and all was right with the world, once again.

I managed to sleep with them on, too. Until I had to get up to have a wee at about 3am. I couldn’t bother to pull them back on so I took them off and slept in lovely nakedness.

Well !!

How rubbish am I ? ? ? ?

I promise to start a blog and get all the way to Day Three and fall at the line! Rubbish. I say! Rubbish!

Sorry about that, I should know better than to commit to anything because as soon as I do the rebel in me (or is it just the lazy cow in me) doesn’t do it!

But here I am, head hung in shame, ready to give it another go.

Day Three


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Lesson learned . . .

Don’t wear the Fit Britches shorts and a bra. Over time during the day the britches will ride down a bit and you’ll end up with the Mother of all Things Flabby roll between the waist and the bra strap on your back. My architect must have thought I had fleas, I was constantly tugging down the bra or pulling up the shorts sitting in his office.

Bless him, he didn’t say a word.

He was probably frightened to.

But anyway, my first day out in the Fit Britches and had no embarrassing moments, although a trip to the loo took so long my husband said he was ready to come looking for me.

It’s not easy to tug these things up in a cubicle the size of a telephone box.