Kevin Page.
March is upon us and I'm getting stuck into my New Year's resolutions.
For the second time.
There's no use making excuses. My first attempt was a dismal failure.
My healthy eating/exercise more/lose weight best intentions disappeared as quick as the hunger buster burger and chips I scoffed while lazing around on the couch instead of getting out exercising.
I bet I'm not alone in that. How many of us have gone gangbusters at it for the first week or so then slipped back into old habits?
And how many of us have done what I did this week and tried to put the clock back 60-odd days (yes it really was that long ago) to start over?
Of course it helps with motivation if you have a wedding to go to soon.
Naturally on the day Mrs P will look like a film star goddess, immaculately clad and made up with everyone in the place staring in her direction - mostly wondering what on earth she's doing with that fat, bald guy with tight pants and a shirt that is seriously testing the stitching credibility of China's best garment machinery.
I mean me, if you didn't manage to make the link.
I'm not in great shape if I'm honest.
Of course I'd had every intention of accompanying my lady looking trim, taut and terrific in the best suit my Mastercard limit would allow.
I had that image firmly in my mind each morning as I purposefully strode the streets around my place, convinced I'd have no trouble achieving my goal.
But one wet morning six days in was all it took for the illusion to crumble.
The Christmas shorts, running shoes and accompanying fluorescent lycra top were consigned to the back of the closet where they have stayed since.
Luckily (er, I think it was lucky) Mrs P caught sight of yours truly in a state of undress the other day and was moved to comment on the possibility of one's suit for the wedding perhaps not fitting.
Even worse, she indicated it was a distinct possibility the money I am putting aside for some new golf clubs may, in fact, have to be spent on new attire for the wedding so I do not show her up.
Such an outrageous suggestion (I mean come on. Spend my golf club savings!) has spurred me back into action.
So I found the previously discarded sporting garments at the back of the closet and I'm back out there. Fluorescent lycra and all. Trying to drop a few pounds in time for the wedding and generally get a bit healthier.
And while I'm pounding the streets I'm focusing on my goal. And a letter of complaint.
I'm going to write to the manufacturers of my suddenly very tight fluorescent lycra top.
Obviously the material has reacted with the humidity or something in the back of the closet where it has been for the last 50-odd days and it's shrunk.