Saturday, 17 July 2010


I look in the mirror most of the time, in fact I can not pass one and not look in it. If only my face was my bottom, I really hate my figure. I have hated it since I was a little girl when I looked at all the skinny girls in class, with tiny hands and knees, and then there was me. At the age of eight a girl called Helena Fairly refused to dance with me because my chubby figure was so appalling to her, she said "I can't possibly dance with a fat girl even though she is pretty" In turn I have become a fatso hater, I look in the pages of magazines and dream of looking like Adriana Lima. A friend of mine kept a photograph of her on the fridge to keep her fat arse out of it. I used to eat Mars bars in a boiling hot bath in order to repelled, a Cosmopolitan Magazine recipe for getting thin in around 1976.
In the same year I went to a Fat Doctor who turned to me and said" Nobody was fat in Belsen" when I complained I couldn't lose weight.
Now my clever male gynaecologist -as I reported earlier - has given me this hormone replacement therapy to stop the hellish, supposed side effects of the change of life and make my largest organ in the body glow- the skin. In two months and cutting the pill in half, and taking it every other week instead of every week, I have gained four pounds. This must be the real reason to my social demise. I mean haven't you all noticed I am hugely fat? As I study my hideous form in the mirror, I conclude I would rather be celibate than take off my kit..However in real terms the truth is I am exactly the same weight as I was at 17, 27, 37 and 47.. my brain is the problem and the brainwashing we receive every day in the press.

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