Thursday, 8 September 2011


So, I went in the pursuit of form fitting lycra fat-suck-er-upper-ers for a particular outfit I am going to wear. I’m not blind. I have faults. If my mother was alive she’d tell you ‘none of her children have faults.’ So let’s change ‘faults’ to ‘things to deal with in a constructive fashion.’ Curves. They can get out of control. Anyone who has battled their weight knows what I’m talking about. Its human nature to want to look as good as you can. However, now at 47 and been-there-and-done-that, I have come to the realization, as I stood before a row of constrictive Lycra – call them girdles or fat suck-er-upper-ers – that I just want to smooth things down and define my waist more. I don’t want to be so uncomfortably squashed in that I can’t sit or eat or do anything else. So I didn’t buy an industrial strength fat-suck-er-upper-er. I want to live life, curves and all, and not be bound by elastic expectations. Say NO to fat-suck-er-upper-ers….