Playing with yourself....

I find it really weird, at the gym, the women who stand in front of the large mirrors in the ladies locker room and watch themselves dress. What’s that about? Haven’t you done and seen it all before? Why do you have to analyze yourself as you put on your undies? It’s not like something surprising is going to happen like you find out you’ve grown a penis or something.

There was this chick this morning, who was completely mesmerized by herself. So much so that she had spread all her stuff out in front of the large mirror, leaving no room for anyone else as she adored her own reflection. I don’t have time for that crap. I came out of the shower, in bra and knickers, to find my gym bag shoved out of the way so this chick could stare at herself on all angles. I lifted my bag up and put it back where it had been and gave her a look that only a 49 year old woman with tattoos, Docs and tired after boot camp, can give. Bring it and die.

After I finished dressing, she was still slowly putting clothes on and checking out her own body. Is it a need to feel good about your body that you stare at it? Is it about looking for flaws? Is it pig ignorance that makes you take all the room up in your narcissism? Whatever it is play with yourself at home.  

Getting real...

I was trying on some new swim shorts in Target today and I happened to catch a glimpse of my undie covered arse in the three mirrors that were positioned in such a way to make you see everything. Oh the tragedy.

This is what I think, if you want women to spend money on clothes, don’t put arse reflecting mirrors in change rooms. We know it's big. You don't need to reinforce that. Let us worry about world affairs and man's inhumanity to man. That's waaay more important than freaking out at our arses. 

Loved this pic. Saw this display in the shop window of City Chic in Cairns Central. I shot passed the store and then had to double back to have another look. Fancy a mannequin with a stomach, thighs and hips? They looked like – gasp – shock- horror – real women and not some skinny underfed crossing dressing males. Well done City Chic.