Random ramblings of a busy brain…

Don’t call me skinny….

” You are soooooo skinny – you look like Skeletor….”

The words lie heavy in the air as I try to contain my anger whilst my so called ‘friend’ tries to explain that this is a good thing, meant as a compliment…. even having the audacity to look shocked that I am offended!

 

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I am 37 years old and a very petite size 8, in fact I am the same size as a (small) teenager and could probably still fit into my school uniform, although this should be left strictly to the imagination, in the interests of decency.

I am not however this small through design or choice, and certainly not through lack of trying. Over the years I have tried every weight gain product this side of China in a vain attempt to put on a few pounds, sadly to no avail. I was raised on good food and have a sister who is a curvaceous size 12; it’s a standing family joke that she inherited all the buxom genes whilst I am like Twiggy on a slim day. Basically, food and dress size are not issues in my life and never have been, my family are various shapes n sizes and this is all good.

I’m happy in my own skin and revel in the fact that I can still shop in the kids section of most high street stores, as well as save a fortune buying trainers at a fraction of the cost of “grown-up” sizes.

I am also pleased to say that, contrary to popular belief, I do eat whatever I want, whenever I want. Yep, from chips to chocolate and all the goodies in between – I eat the lot and often enjoy late night munchies too, yet still I remain the size I am.

large skinny girlFrom being young I’ve been taunted and ridiculed for being “skinny” – often by people that could be deemed somewhat overweight, if I were a judgmental person that is…

One of the most hurtful incidents was when I was about 12 and was wearing a bra for the first time, at my Mums insistence of course. I went off to the youth club and didn’t realise that the ultraviolet light made my jumper appear see through, well, not until a boy came over, tapped me on the back and asked me why I was actually wearing a bra, after all if I had no feet would I still wear socks?

Yep, that hurt. Lots.

The very definition of skinny is offensive, the free online dictionary has this to say…

skinny [ˈskɪnɪ]

adj -nier, -niest

1. lacking in flesh; thin

2. consisting of or resembling skin

skinniness  n
Really? I mean, I am slim but am neither lacking in flesh or ‘resembling skin’, more like I have a reasonable amount of flesh and the right amount of skin to keep it all neat and my innards where they’re meant to be.
I despaired further still after looking at what the Urban Dictionary had to say on the subject…
Something a lot of girls want to be, also known as perfection. No matter how thin some girls get, they will never be happy with their weight. The quest for “skinny” causes many problems like anorexia or bulemia. Of course, when thinness comes naturally, the girls who possess it get cocky and let their egos grow bigger than necessary.

Excuse me? Perfection? Is that even a thing?

No wonder so many youngsters have body image issues these days, and who gets to decide that I’m cocky or have an inflated ego based on my weight, or lack of it? Pfft.

Even the pop sensation that is Adele is known to have said, and I quote, “I’d rather weigh a ton and make an amazing album that look like Nicole Richie and do a shit album. My aim in life is never to be skinny”.

pretty skele girl

It actually makes me rather sad, and more than just a little bit mad that some people feel they have the divine right to cast judgement and issue labels based solely on a persons weight.

I’ve come across some people that really are larger than life, yet I would never dream of commenting on their size, or calling them an offensive name in an attempt to appear witty – however when it comes to us slim girls it seems we’re fair game for any weight related puns.

A few years ago my husband had a visit from a female friend on her way home from another (clearly sweaty) workout at the gym. Bursting through the door, glowing and jubilant she then proceeded to tell us, in graphic detail, all about her workout, pausing only to point out that “I obviously didn’t need to exercise as I was anorexic!!!”

I kid you not, this was said without a hint of irony and I was gob smacked at her thoughtless, nasty and hurtful comment. And no, for the record, I am not suffering from an eating disorder…..

tape measure girl

I’m sure they’ll be slim girls (and guys) reading this, nodding their head in understanding but, if you’re one of the many who are guilty of this “weightest” behaviour please stop. Us petite ladies have our own body hangups n issues too -some of us eye your curves and peachy bums with a hint of envy, others are happy in their own skin. Bottom line is this – life is hard enough without us judging each other on such superficial matters. Let’s share some positivity eh, after all, my Mum always told me that if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.

Now, where’s that cake….

cupcakes

 

 

Sunday morning mouse madness….

Did I mention I have several cats?

 

I don’t think I did, as I’m not really a cat lover….more a sucker for a sob story, which is possibly the same reason I have four children, but that is a story for another day 🙂

So, anyway back to the cats….

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I actually have four of them at the moment, although in the past year I have had up to 13 at some points, mostly due to the fact one cat was of a very promiscuous nature and enjoyed nothing more than  to share the feline love…all over the village, thus making me known locally as the crazy cat lady

crazy cat lady

I have a depressed looking tabby called Daisy, an obese black n white monster of a cat called Sox, a beautiful male bengal we call marble and his sister, a neurotic yet beautiful silver cat that was responsible for the recent cat boom in Manchester:)

Late last Saturday night I went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea and was gob smacked to find a field mouse doing the back stroke in the cat water bowl…with all four cats looking on with resigned expressions….

cat n mouse

The mouse jumped out of the bowl, ran straight past the useless cats and under the boiler into the dusty darkness….

After spending over an hour with my face on the kitchen floor shining a torch under anything I couldn’t physically move with Sox looking at me as if I was stupid, I decided to call it a night and hope that at least one of the cats would deal with it for me by morning, after all that is what cats do, isn’t it?

“Mum!! Mum!! The cats are playing hide and seek with a mouse”

Sunday morning began with child number 4 shouting up the stairs, announcing the fact that, rather than kill the mouse as one would expect, mine had decided to offer it full board with breakfast in exchange for a friendly game in my dining room.

Lurching out of bed and stumbling down the stairs I grabbed a towel and set about catching the bloody mouse myself, this time my audience were captivated, the kids watched bemused while stroking the cats and debating what they were going to call said mouse, seeing as it had come to live with us….

This obviously ended in tears. Mostly mine actually as it took me almost an hour before I eventually caught it and set it free in the back garden, much to the kids disgust as they had decided by then that it was a he and was to be named Timmy.

I now know there are many ways to catch a mouse, some more entertaining than others, yet none involving a crazy woman with Medusa hair brandishing a bath towel and yesterdays mascara…I spot a niche here.

This whole experience has taught me some valuable skills and knowledge though, next time one of my friends is terrified by a little critter in their kitchen I may offer to remove it for them as I have learnt that I have no fear of mice, only of putting my cheek in an unexplained wet patch on the floor whilst looking under the cooker for them…..

I have also done a little research myself and have found the perfect answer to my bone idle cat situation…..I have advised them that the next time I find a mouse they will have to find alternative accomodation, there is no point in having cats if I am spending Sunday morning doing the fandango with a mouse is there?

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