Slimming really is weird.
As I bent down to gather up a pile of laundry this morning, I couldn't believe it. There she was. A little older, a little worse for wear, but still recognisable. It was my long lost friend - my waist!
Me: Well, hello there! Nice to see you. It sure has been a while.
Waist: Well, if you insist on obscuring my view with that enormous tyre, what do you expect? No point hanging around for that kind of shoddy treatment, is there?
Me: OK, I guess that’s fair, but now that you’re back, I hope you’re planning on sticking around. You’re gonna make clothes shopping a whole lot easier.
Waist: I’d love to stay, but it does kind of depend on what you shove into that large cakehole of yours, doesn’t it?
Me: Don’t you worry about that you lovely little inch-tape, you, I’m going to take good care of you, I promise. In fact, how does a spot of trampolining sound? You like that, don’t you?
Waist: Yeah, but do you think you could just move a bit more. Get down and boogie sister, loosen up, gimme some more twist action. The jogging on the spot thing’s really tedious and those fatpants don’t half make you look like a large tub of…
So it really is true. Everyone’s a critic…
No comments:
Post a Comment