Warnings from my waistband

It's been brought to my attention that I've been slacking on the blog front lately...

Waist: What IS your problem girlie?
Me: Dunno. I'm just not in the blogging, slimming zone.  I've lost my mojo. I just couldn't give a toffee about slimming right now.
Waist: Well it's not good enough Tubster. You know the pattern. You get grumpy about gaining weight, then you eat crap because you're grumpy about it, and before you know it the fat pants are out.
Me: You're right, I do, and sadly, they are. The fat pants are back in town. Not the 20s, but the 18s.
Waist: Well, you know what Inner Bitch would say if she was here, don't you?
Me: Yeah, but I've banished her from giving me a hard time. I'm trying to be nicer to myself. Geneen told me I should.
Waist: Well, I think you may have taken the niceness a little too far. I'm advocating some tough love.
Me: But it's dark, it's cold and my squirrel DNA is telling me I need an extra layer for winter. And I don't do  tough love.
Waist: Well I do, so get off your lardy and go buy some veg. I tried to warn you last week but you didn't listen. Looks like I'll need need to ramp up the guerilla tactics to make you listen.
Me: So it was you that popped the button on my trousers in Sainsbury's the other day? You lousy...
Waist: Yup. Had to do something drastic. You were stockpiling enough chocolate in your trolley to see a normal person through a nuclear winter.
Me: Bugger. Thought no-one saw me.
Waist: I'm on to you lady! Consider the button incident a friendly warning. And be thankful I didn't do it in the freezer aisle.

Just as beautiful or missing the point completely?

Image via Wikipedia

"I'm Just as Beautiful as you, rake face!"

The launch of Just as Beautiful, the UK's first magazine aimed at 'curvy girls', certainly got the media flapping their bingo wings lately.

Now, if I'm honest, I've got a love-hate relationship with women's magazines. I'm nosy enough to read them from time to time, but I can't be bothered with pages of fashion or the mating habits of so-called celebrities (no, I still can't use the word celeb without having a gag reflex) - non-entities more like. And with every titbit of interesting, I find I'm forced to choke on a generous side of clap-trap. How to get a man, how to keep a man, what to do when your man shags your best mate,  how to rescue your man's libido, and then just when you think you can't possibly be enlightened any more, the trumpcard: you don't need a man, you're just wonderful all on your tod!

Well thank you very much for validating my existence.

But I digress. All I really wanted to do was flag up the latest fly-swatter to hit the news stands: JUST AS BEAUTIFUL. It's a magazine with solely plus-size models. It can't be just me that thinks the title couldn't have been any more patronising if it tried. I mean, how condescending sounding is that?!

Call me cynical, but it looks sneakily like the fashion world's answer to the size 0 backlash, and it sounds something like: "No we won't put fuller (read normal) figured models in regular magazines, but over here on the sidelines you can wallow around in your giant fat pants and big yourselves up as much as you like. Now get off our case!"

Meanwhile, over in The Economist, a magazine that is worthy of the trees that sacrificed themselves for its existence, I read that scientific tests have revealed that a group of mice (which are nocturnal) fed during the day gained 50% more weight than a group fed in darkness, suggesting a possible link between weight gain and mammals' natural metabolic cycles. Scientists are now wondering whether we might all be slimmer if we didn't eat after dark.

What I want to know now is - does the light of the refrigerator door count?

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Priorities

Image by National Media Museum via Flickr

Three more lbs and I'll be RICH! RICH I tell you!

I'm flagging.
It's this change of season you see. The leaves falling, the diminishing hours of daylight, the cold and rain and the inevitable giant gas bill that goes with it. Pardon me if I just can't get thrilled about it.

Some good news would be grand. But no, it's just one big diet of cuts, despair and shite weather. I was half way through my Shreddies yesterday morning when Bill Turnbull announced I was now inhabiting the fifth fattest nation in the world, and the fattest in Europe.

So what's the solution, Bill?

Well, apparently, one of the big giant heads on the BBC sofa thinks it'd be a great wheeze if the taxpayer paid the nation's tubbies to lose weight. You know, like cash incentives.

Fantastic! I'm going to set out my stall right now...

"Roll up, roll up, get your lard here. A bargain at only £100/lb! Can't say fairer than that. This is well matured lard we're talking about, not your common or garden spare tyre."

If it goes well, I'll be able to fit into my not so teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini and high tail it to the Bahamas before the clocks change. Ahhhh, bliss.

Yes, maybe I had this government all wrong. Maybe there is something to be said for our 'let's not take any responsibility for ourselves' culture after all.

What? They're not going to roll this out in Scotland? Meanies.

Cake, hope and charity.

Image by HowardLake via Flickr

Did you know that when you eat cake for charity it has no calories?

That's right, none at all. 

So the yummy slice of chocolate cake I gobbled this morning in aid of Macmillan Cancer Support was particularly enjoyable.

What a cracking fundraising idea too. 


Can't believe I haven't been along to one sooner. 


Thanks to Fay at Leith Open Space for tipping me off!

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If aliens landed...

 Saw this product on a facebook ad today.
It's a babygrow you sleep in so your fake tan doesn't get all over your sheets.

WTF?!!!

Come get me when the spaceship lands. I want to be there to explain the subtleties of human absurdity to our extraterrestrial guests.

"No Zorg, they are not children. They are adults in babygrows. Streaky, tangerine-stained adults. And as for why some of us are lardier than others, well I can recommend this blog..."