When I was thirteen, that bitch called puberty slapped me on the butt and said 'grow'.
I'm a hippy girl. I have been cursed blessed with hips that are just right for child-bearing (according to every woman I met as an adolescent). Should children be on the cards, that would be wonderful news but as they are not....wasted on me. If I did have kids though and childbirth was anything less than a dream, well, me and puberty would be having some serious words!
I make regular repeated and desperate attempts to decrease the size of my MAXIMUS-gluteous through vigorous exercise and strict control of the sugar consumption but I have to tell you, I appear to be losing the battle. Weight has a funny way of going on to my hips and butt first, but coming off my waist/boobs/top half first. Nothing funny about that.
So while the good news is that the exercise I've been doing lately (struggling out of bed on these cold winter mornings) is seeing me tone up and lose a few kilos, the bad news is that the jeans are still stretched taut (t---a----u----t) while the stretchy jumper is looking good. Bastard.
I mustn't give up though cos I will win in the end. Surely I will?
In the meantime, I'll be the woman standing behind the counter/furniture/fernery wearing black bottoms with a bright cardi to draw your attention upwards Nigella style.....most likely I will also have big hair, you know, to balance it all out. Cos that's what you do.
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