Sunday, 27 December 2009
The scariest thing after finally finding someone else attractive enough to want do something about it in a lewd, rude and disgustingly sweaty way is that they will see you naked. This has had me in a state. Of a curvy build and more toned than ever in my life due to all the running to get rid of the stress of being married to a complete bastard-who-lived-a-secret-life; as well as a more recent outlet for pent up sexual energy I am the lucky beneficiary of being currently slim with curves. So let's say I am not having hang ups about the scale of the bod. However ... Let's start from the neck and work down... The boobs are no longer pointing northwards. In fact if I could have a peg to keep them looking pert that would be great. They don't need to be bigger just pert. This is further compounded by the fact that She-ra's nickname is Boobzilla - need I say more? Bras are great for giving you the illusion of the most fantastic pair when in fact you have scooped them up, hoisted them in and got them on a tight rein. Illusion is good, reality less so. Skin is next. My skin feels papery. Not bouncy. Not youthful. But old woman papery. Clearly this could improve if I swapped my 2 litres of red wine/fresh coffee combo a day for 2 litres of water but then my children would probably be taken away by social services. So on to -Stretch marks... Those little snail trails that run across your tummy. I did carry 2 children, one of which was nearly 9lb, for chrissake! However I am not going to complain here as I am actually blessed with stretchy skin (which having yoyo'd in weight over the years is more than fortunate ) so having only 4 small ones that are practically unnoticeable are OK by me. Anyway heading south we are now in the regions of the lady garden and it here that my worries have set seed the most. I can best sum this up by relating a recent shopping trip to a posh kitchenware shop with my sister. Whilst perusing the shelves for suitable brother-in-law Christmas presents my eyes fell upon a special oven glove/pan holder. It was pink, made from silicone and fitted like an oven glove over your fingers only having a slight wobbly clammy feel to it. Before I knew I was stood in posh kitchenware shop with said oven glove dangling between my legs to give an accurate ( if not considerably scaled up ) illustration of how I feel about my lady bits. Just hope OTE ( Old Twinkly Eyes ) doesn't notice the pan scrub located above it.