Off come the gloves...and out comes (shudder) the tape.
It wouldn't be full disclosure if I didn't give you my starting point. Sooooo, not being in possession of a scale, I will therefore reveal my measurements. Ready? OK. Here we go...and by the way, I'm discovering this as I write.
48 (still breathing), 42 (gasp!), 55 (*thud*)
We interupt this blog while the authoress regains consciousness - ed.
WTF!!!! Clearly consciousness has been regained. You've been warned. - ed.
These aren't measurements, they're lottery numbers!
OK,ok, ok...it is now time to affix blame. Messrs. Guinness, Labatt, Keith, stand forward! I see you Mr. Coors, cowering in the back - the only thing light about your product is the weight of my wallet after an evening in your effervescent embrace. Damn you all! Damn you all to hell!! You are all in league with "The Chair"!
And what about you, Father Time! I used to be able to spend hours in the company of the rabble mentioned above and would have no consequences visited upon me. But nooooo, now that I've breached the 40-and-up wall, it would seem that you've abandoned me...NO! Quite the opposite! You have rather found me and have now heaped upon me the pounds you've been hoarding up all these years. How could you? Didn't I welcome you with open arms every January 1st? Didn't I count the minutes until my birthday to once again celebrate another year together? Christ almighty, it was our anniversary, you bastard!! This is the thanks I get???
Let's see, who else, who else...AHA! Clothing retailers, I say unto you, "You suck!!" You and your vanity sizing, making me believe that, oh why yes, of course that's a size 10, the label says so. Lies! All lies! You played with numbers and letters until I wound up with closet full of clothes from sized 10-18, M-XL, and they all fit! How in the name of Calvin Klein is that possible??
And finally - the wheatgrowers of North America. You and the bakers. In cahoots! A cabal of carbs! Hoodwinking the lot of us with your seedy breads and seedier ethics. "You need fibre," you said. "You can't live without whole grains," you said. And I lived...For you! It was all for you because you wanted to wrap me in your loaves and coil me in your pastas. Not content with that, you joined forces with the dairy board 'cuz what made you irrestible was the butter and oils and cheeses that accompanied you on the quest for my soul...or waist, take your pick.
*sigh*
Oh, I suppose we've all had our good times too...you've clothed me in beautiful garments that made me feel attractive and sexy, we've gathered with friends over dinners and picnics, snacks and tea-time, and you've heard all my secrets as I poured out my heart in intimate tete a tetes, while you poured out elixirs into my waiting glass. I don't suppose I can lay the blame entirely at your collective doors. Mea culpa.
I can't block you all out of my life, but I'm going to see some of you less often. My boisterous brewers, you may have to wait longer between dances. To the bagels, brioches, babkas and buns, it is not bye-bye, but 'til we meet again. Father Time? You're a stubborn old coot and ain't gonna stop knockin' at my door so I gotta accept you (fercrissakes, get a shave, huh?). And rest easy folks, I will continue to wear clothes. Because after all...
Have you seen my measurements?
LiliLaLarge
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