I have boobs and bums

April 24, 2007 at 8:44 pm (advertising, annoying, diets, exercise, fat rolls, weight, wellbeing)

I’m a big, loathsome fatass.
At least that’s what some women’s magazines would have me believe (more about that in a different post later). Apparently being anything over a size 10 is a social crime akin to saying you lust after your brother. At least I haven’t reached that level of depravity, right?
Anyway, back to the weight and my new issues with it. Rossgen and I hit the stores because she needed to look fabulicious (her word) for a function she had to attend. I have a wedding to attend so thought I’d try on a few things while in the shop. MISTAKE!
Not since the days when I sulked out of Hilton Weiner’s child-sized-clothing stores have I felt so bad about my body. I mean, hello: I have bums and boobs; a bit of cushioning on the hip and long limbs. Am I such a freak that no store has clothes that fit me?
Apart from the obvious “shall I take a 12/14/16 because they’re never the same”, anything that looks remotely stylish only comes in sizes 10 and below. And when I do fit on a size 12/14 it looks like a sausage caught in it’s skin when you’re frying it in a pan. Yuck.
Now, of course, you could say, um, Toby, maybe it’s because you’re “well-endowed”? Well-endowed my ass. I am a normal, healthy (ok, so I’m semi-healthy because I smoke and eat junk) young woman.
I have a healthy BMI of 22,5 according to the Mayo Clinic (click on Metric to get our measurements). I have normal curves and I’m quite happy with them so why can’t all those losers who make clothes try and make me spend my money?
Do they have any idea how starved curvy women are for nice clothes that fit – here’s a whole untapped industry I say. And African lasses don’t want the skinny tie-me-to-a-pole-so-I-don’t-blow-away kind of waists.
Unless of course I’m in the minority in which case I’ll just have to fume and continue my search for a good tailor/dressmaker to cover my bootylicious body.

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Waisting away

March 16, 2007 at 6:40 am (weight)

A colleague walked by our office and Ace remarked, “I’m sure there’s something on this floor that makes people unhealthy”. Our colleague, Ace says, has certainly gained a few kilos since she started working here.
We all paused. And thought. Sneaked glances at our waistlines and just said nothing because it seemed horribly true.
Hmm…I’ve picked up weight since I’ve started working here, Bag Lady remarked. Me too, I said. At least three kilos. And then it pinged: It’s all the fault of that goddamn trolley guy. Or rather, the trolley guys.

They come around with a wagon full of goodies. Their attempt at making their offerings healthy is somewhat like McDonalds – slap a tomato, some lettuce and a gherkin on it and you have your dose of veg. A balanced meal indeed.

I’ve tried and tried to not be tempted by trolley treats but have failed and failed again. I have managed to wean myself off pies (yes, my name is Toby Hanks and I’m a pieaholic). That I have managed to get right – the only time I’ve had a pie this year was when my partner and I had lunch at Limnos (they of the divine pastries and cakes). I reckon that doesn’t count because instead of choosing a double-decker choc mousse delight I just had a pie and salad. Yay me.

Tomorrow when the trolley dude arrives I’m going to give him a stern lecture. Bring me healthy food I’ll tell him as I pay for my samoosas and chocolate.
He’s not going to know what hit him.

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