J has turned into a gym Nazi!
Got home from work yesterday at 6pm. Felt a bit under the weather, to be honest and he's standing there in his tracksuit, water bottle in hand... 'Well, come on then! We said we'd fit a mid-week workout in!'
So, off we went, me dragging my feet in their trainers and muttering under my breath - you know what's coming, don't you? - and I actually felt quite good afterwards.
Maybe my own Mr Motivator in his Marky's sweatpants and Pixies T shirt (no lycra, thank you very much) was all I ever needed
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