Veins...

Someone called me a vein today. No, not vain…an actual vein...you know, the type that's filled with blood. Yes, that’s a bit different isn't it? It made me smile as it was said by a blokey bloke – you know – big, brawny and would eat barbed wire on a dare then scull 7 bottles of beer and wrestle a croc afterwards with no sign that it was unusual to do. Anyway, it was said as a compliment because without veins the heart and legs don’t function. Isn't that sweet? Call me beautiful? Nah, leave that to the fluffy, useless women. Real women are veins.    

Frock off...

I must have been living under a rock or high fashion couture means stuff all to me, but I was at the gym this morning on the treadmill and this story came on about a male who models as a woman. In particular he models lingerie. Now generally I believe you can do what you want and live any lifestyle you like as long as you don’t annoy me. This annoys me. A lot. Why? Because there is enough pressure put on women to look a certain way or be a certain weight or shape without a skinny bloke coming along, dressing as a woman to sell fashion to women and what they should like in women’s fashion. The thing is women psychologically are not men and we don’t have the same hormones and in many cases not the same metabolic rate as a man. We get fat, we get thin, our hips are actual hips and our stomachs are not always flat. We have boobs. Big ones, small ones, hanging ones, flat ones but we have them. For this man – and he is a man – to be used by these so called fashion designers who think they have the right to dictate how women will dress is wrong, rude, pretentious and smacks at discrimination.

When are we going to stop placing unrealistic expectations on women? Why do we give these idiot fashion designers so much power? Why the hell don’t they regulate the industry? I don’t want to look like a scrawny boy. Take your glad rags and your pretend woman and frock off…

http://www.heraldsun.com.au/news/national/man-she-looks-like-a-woman-pejic-boost-for-hema/story-e6frf7l6-1226221530470

Come to Cairns, George…

So George Clooney is in Australia for some reason doing something. I would have paid more attention if he was coming to Cairns. He foolishly decided not to. George, George, George… you may be sexy, rich, a humanitarian, a fine actor but I swear to god man you pick the wrong women. It’s none of my business but if you stopped picking up with thin, pretty women and instead looked at the pudgy, persistent and dangerously downright smart women that abound in the world you’d be happier. Come to Cairns George and I will show you the error of your ways and find the right woman for you. No, it’s not me. I’m too much for any man to handle.

So George – haul arse up here and we’ll find you a nice Cairns woman. You know I’m right.

What I know today is…

Even though I have lost quite a bit of weight, I find the slogan 'nothing is as good as skinny feels' unrealistic and rude to us non-skinny people. I don't want to be skinny and lots of things feel better than skinny feels.