6.45am and I’ve already done an hour at the gym, had a shower, had second half of my breakfast and have my bag all packed for the ride to work. Lucky me, the weather forecasters say this is going to be a good week again so no excuse for lying in bed hiding under a duvet because it’s cold or driving because it’s wet or windy.
Just waiting for my son to finish getting his act together and we’re going to have a nice leisurely ride together until we’re almost at his school at which point he will speed off and leave me eating his dust so that none of his friends see him riding to school with his mummy and I’ll continue on to work.
I’m leaving Nick at home, he came to the gym but he’s going back to bed lucky fella and I’m just having one of those fat girl moments… please say I’m not the only one who has them… wondering if he’s going to rummage through my Bridgets while I’m gone.
I’ve tried to pull all of the nice undies to the top and shove all the sensible knickers to the back and bottom of the draw and he was there while I was getting dressed so I now have to ride to work in lace undies that will probably disappear somewhere up my backside before I get to work and be uncomfortable all day not to mention this push up bra that’s dealt me an uncool for school cleavage.
Gosh one thing I love about being fat is being able to wear comfie knickers up to my chest, that don’t sneak off up your bum crack or anywhere else, that don’t suddenly take it upon themselves to spontaneously roll down and wind up hovering around the hips with you hoping the rolled band won’t show through your clothes before you can get out of eye sight and haul them back up again.
Now what he would want to rummage through my knicker draw for is beyond me. The last time he came I made sure all my super plus size hangers had no visible tags or labels on announcing to the world that this top was size 24 or that skirt was a 22. I’ve been a label snipper before, when I was younger, I used to live in morbid fear of anyone seeing the size of my clothes and nothing had a label in it, these days I’m not so bothered, but clearly I’m still a teeny bit bothered by some of the “Look how fat I am” signs.
So now I’m going to be at work all day, lacey knickers chaffing at my flesh, possible taking off down around my hips without warning and worrying that he’s in my knicker draw laughing his face off at my Bridgets.
You have to laugh at the fat woman mindset sometimes, it’s far better than the alternative 😀
While I’m on the subject of Bridget I found an article, it’s a couple of years old but it’s about Bridget Jones and how the concept of ‘her’ is very outdated now, have a read see what you think. I tend to agree but then again, I still think that in many ways she is relevant, the ‘real’ Bridget might have moved on but her struggles with love, weight, happiness, work are all still as valid as ever. I don’t think all single women find it so easy to stride out into the world as much as the author seems to believe and I’d argue that with age it perhaps becomes more difficult or at least more scary.