K9 Defence (Robo Roller)

Member Name: SueMagee

Product:	Robo Roller
Date:	07/08/01 (670 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: Takes only 5 minutes a day!

Disadvantages: There's better ways to spend 35 minutes a week!

When I lie on my side something lies down beside me. It curls up close to me, but not too close. Contact is maintained, but it is not intrusive. I feel that I could get up, walk away and leave it there, slumbering peacefully, but I cannot. It isn't cat or dog, it's tummy.

"Ugh". Yes, I can hear you. Do you think I feel differently? Do you think the stomach muscles would not like to become more closely acquainted with me? More surgical operations than either they or I care to remember have loosened their grip on reality, and when I walk around I have to keep looking behind me to see if any of the bits have dropped off.

Saturday morning, colour supplement in one hand, hot fresh rolls with home made lemon curd in front of me and black coffee moving from table to lips, I see the advert that was framed with me in mind. "Over-eating and drinking is not the main cause of fat, flabby tummy". Like Hell, it isn't, but it's a sunny morning, it's the weekend and I could be persuaded of most things particularly if I don't have to reconsider Friday night's indulgent food and wine. I mean it's there, in black, white and red - it isn't my fault. Tummy muscles, you see, are inactive muscles (mine are not so much inactive as retired-but-not-yet-done-the-paperwork) unlike the biceps which you exercise every time you raise your glass. There, you see, that bottle of wine we split last night was really exercise, not indulgence.

Then, of course, there's the model, who is apparently reducing her tummy measurement by up to six inches in just thirty days and will be wearing dresses three sizes smaller. If she's a size 8 now I'd be surprised. There isn't an ounce of fat on her and we never actually see this tummy that's to be reduced by six inches, but even seeing her bending down you just KNOW that it's concave. She's got long, straight blonde hair and a golden tan t
o add to all her other sins, but apparently she owes all this to THE ROBOROLLER.

I should have been warned. You can buy one for £39.95 or two for £59.95. Why would you want two? Is it a competitive sport? Photocopied application forms will not be accepted as a huge demand is expected, but you can telephone your order or e mail it. Presumably you have to promise to tear up the coupon in these circumstances or defile it in some way so as to make it unusable by anyone else. I imagine that telephone operators have been trained to cross-question you as to your intentions.

Reader, I fell for it. Yes, I know. My presence at that breakfast table deprived some village of an idiot. A couple of weeks later I was the proud owner of my very own RoboRoller. It reminded me of K9 with handles on each side. You kneel down; grasp the handles, roll forward and then the "integrated roll-back function" helps to return you to your original position. You need only do this for five minutes a day to look thirty years younger and change your hair colour.

First snag, there's a little note in there that says you shouldn't attempt this radical transformation if you have back problems. That wasn't mentioned in the advert! Now my back is mainly by Blue Circle Cement and I've seen better skeletons in a joke shop, but I had a word with a Doctor who gave the useful advice that he didn't really think I could make matters any worse than they were, so give it a go, but carefully. There, you see, either way, he can't be blamed.

Next warning is that you have to make certain that the red arrows are pointing away from you. There are no red arrows. I've looked all over. I've even looked in the sky, but there are no red arrows. I decide to apply common sense and work on the principal that if I can read the digital counter whilst I'm using the machine there's a strong chance that I've got it right.
There's a counter on the top of K9 which shows time-lapsed, calories used and rolls counted. Each roll uses 0.12 of a calorie and in the five minutes that is said to suffice you can do about 100 rolls. The original advert to which I responded had also included the phrase "Lose pounds", but this seems to have disappeared from recent ads - perhaps someone twigged that working off a biscuit every three days was less than generous so far as weight loss was concerned.

I look carefully at the photographs of K9 in action on the instruction sheet. The blonde model is wearing a red top and black shorts and she gently pushes forward to the half-way point, where she changes into a bare-chested dark-haired male, who then completes the exercise. This seems a little radical, but you have to remember that the transformation that I was expecting was probably no less so.

You need a little bit of space to use K9 - slightly more than your own height in floor space is about right. There I was wearing tracky bottoms and loose top. Kneel down, roll forward, and allow the machine to return you to your starting position. I said "ALLOW THE MACHINE TO RETURN YOU TO YOUR STARTING POSITION". Even when I shouted it still didn't. Perhaps it's because I'm not a size eight with long blonde hair? Perhaps the machine has taken umbrage at the depths to which it has been forced? If you push the machine forward and then let go it will return to its starting position, but it certainly didn't seem inclined to do it with me attached. I had to pull back myself and this certainly exercises the upper abdomen. Well it did until I went too far forward and ended up lying there like a beached whale, frightened to let go of K9 in case he came back of his own accord and attacked me.

Hearing these strange noises the elder and smaller of our two dogs came to see what was going on. "Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh" K9 went as I rolled
forward, and "Aargh" as we jointly attempted to get back to where we started from. Luce looked nonplussed. Frankly, I'd have been surprised if she hadn't. Then she started walking up and down at the side of me. At the back point of each roll she would lick my ear and look even more concerned. At the end of three minutes I was in hysterics, so I gave up. Only sensible to take it easy on the first day isn't it?

Day two, tracky bottoms and loose top on, K9 ready to be exercised. Two dogs appear. Luce has brought reinforcements. She is relatively small, being a German Shepherd Cross, but Rosie O'Hooligan Magee is a Rhodesian Ridgeback and weighs 45kg. No one has ever described her as delicate. She and Luce have obviously got a plan of action for as I roll K9 out Luce takes up position at the back of my run, and Rosie stands at the other end. I gently roll forward, accompanied by Luce and as I reach the far end Rosie settles down so that my nose meets her nose and our eyes are inches apart. I don't know the correct way of dealing with this. Do I gaze into her eyes soulfully? Do I look away? Do I pretend I haven't seen her? In the end she settles the question for me. Her tongue emerges and washes my face. Rosie is known as the best kisser in the village. Teenage boys come to her for lessons. She has a tongue the size of a wash-leather and the consistency of coarse-grade sandpaper.

I roll back, Luce kisses my ear, but as I roll forward again I keep my head down. Rosie stands up and sticks her nose into the back of my neck making a joyful snuffling sound. Her nose is VERY cold. Today I manage two minutes before I have hysterics. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. In the end I indulge myself and do both. I go to find a tissue and return to find that the dogs have inducted K9 into their pack and all three are now curled up together, presumably discussing the follies of humans.

Final
ly I get up to the required five minutes a day, but only by insisting that the dogs are in another room. They get upset because they feel that K9 is having some fun and they are not. I do the thirty days. My upper abdomen is a little tighter, but as for the rest - well, it's still exactly where it was. My clothes are the same size and my hair is still dark and curly, mainly courtesy of Boots the Chemist.

"Why are you doing this?" my friend asks. "If I go on like this I'll have size 16 labels in my clothes" I tell her. "Cut them out" she says.

I think the simple solutions are always the best.

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