Thursday, November 08, 2012
Yesterday I sat down in the bath, and looked down, and there was a crease in my gut. Sorry if this is TMI. It's been quite some time since I had a waistline and it looks rather as though it's on its way back.
Really, I should have been expecting this. When I look at my reflection sideways in the mirror (I cannot face it full on. I cannot. Not without clothes) I have a collection of dents in odd places (still more bulge than dent though). The nascent waistline must be the latest development. This is one I want to encourage.
So anyway, I got out my tape measure and wrapped it round my middle and squawked a bit because the tape measure was cold (manufacturers note: there is a market for a self-warming tape measure) and sure enough, waist measurement down 4cm. That's a bit over an inch and a half in old money.
'About time,' I said to myself. My waist measurement has proved the most stubborn of all. Everything else has been shrinking nicely, but not my mid region. For some time I've been looking like a Christmas stocking with an orange shoved halfway down it.
It's not nice to laugh. Stop it.
You should try getting clothes to fit that shape. When magazine articles ask 'Are you a pear shape or an apple' I always tick the box that says 'blob'. Or I would if they gave that as an option.
You wait. Six months, and I'll look like a banana that's been squeezed in the middle.
PS: apples and pears = stairs in Cockney rhyming slang but this isn't a blog about stairs. Or I don't think it is.