Friday 20 January 2012

Happy New Year, Pippa Middleton.



What’s the bet that Pippa Middleton didn’t look like me after Christmas?  Cow.  She of the perpetual pert bottom and women like her.  I bet they spent all of the holiday season hungry, eating only spouts, drinking only water and revelling in the fact that they won’t wake up on New Year’s Day with an extra belly, diggy-in knickers and their tiddies keeping their shoes clean. 
Well, I’m not like her.  Today, with a nasty dose of bronchitis and my jeans button undone, I’m more like the supply teacher in South Park.  I went to the sales by accident on the 2nd January and tried on three pairs of trousers in the size I should be.  It was like trying to shove a king-sized duvet made of lard into a pillow case.  I wasn’t about to be humiliated by some bloody trousers, now, was I?   Chances were, those trousers were only on the clearance rack because they had been mis-sized anyway.  They were badly sewn.  THAT was the reason I couldn’t get them over my hips.  Nothing to do with the chocolate and wine and crisps and cake and pudding and meat...oh, the extra meat!  (I swear it took me about three weeks to go for a number two after all that animal protein.)

So I made a pact with myself to fight the flab an ounce at a time.  I ate soup for lunch for THREE WHOLE DAYS.  I went to the gym religiously for THREE WHOLE DAYS.  Now we’ve reached 20th January 2012 and already I have lost ZERO pounds.  My arteries are no more than cylindrical kebabs. Wanna know my diet secret?  No.  I didn’t think you did.

There is no point to this blog post other than I have started 2012 overweight and wheezing like Michael Hutchence in a tangerine/stocking-themed auto-love tryst: but without the fun or glamour.  I hate January.  I hate diets.  And I hate diggy-in knickers.  Happy New Year.

10 comments:

  1. Poor you but having seen you in the flesh, I'm sure you have body dysmorphia as you looked lovely and no squelching love handles in sight. Who wants a Pippa M booty anyway? JLo's my booty role model. Honest Mum x

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    1. It's a long long time since I saw you and I was wearing a good bra that day. A lot of Kit Kat Chunky has also passed my lips since then. And writing...well, it's not conducive to keeping trim but thanks all the same, Vicki!

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  2. Mmm... some nice images there, but i like the one of you in a tangerine/stocking-themed auto-love tryst, best. Happy 2012

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  3. I have the same sort of hair as Michael Hutchence. Cosmic coincidence? Happy 2012, Wendy!

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  4. Happy to suggest alternative methods - I believe in india there are cults where people sew up their mouths - (I might be wrong on the country but not wrong about the sewing and mouth bit) - We think you a crackpot but a likable and not at all fat crackpot - so please don't sew up you mouth or indeed any other orifice. Lots of Love from us all currently in quarrantine thanks to Henry and his Chicken Pox. Little Git. Jim

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    1. Thanks for the interesting diet tip, Jim. I think I ought to sew up my bum if anything, though, as this bronchitis has actually made me cough my lower intestine out once today already. Messy.

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  5. Pippa Middleton's bottom? She doesn't have one!

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  6. No, she doesn't. You're right. All I can say is it must hurt when she sits on solid chairs. Beyonce and other round-bottomed celebrities have more appropriate lady bums but even then, they generally have visible stomach muscles which make me both wary and jealous at the same time. Sigh.

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  7. Ha ha! Yeah but wearing those Spanx or whatever you call em in UK sort of corset underwear is bloody torture not to mention it is impossible to get out of when you need to pee! Well ok Pippa's bum is like two melons in a bag but on the downside would you like a paparazzi's lens focussed on you when your picking your nose at Waitrose. I feel a bit sorry for her truth be told!

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  8. Yes! I tried on a pair of those flab-busting big knickers in a major chain store once and got trapped. I pulled and pushed so hard to get them off, that I shoved my thumb right through the chain mail type fabric. But the biggest design flaw is, if you push the lard in one end, it oozes out at the other, so I had a pelmet of flab mushrooming out of the top of the knickers, just under my boobs and a big bag of arse coming out of each leg. It was like making a deformed sausage dog out of a party balloon. Not nice at all.

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