Fancy Dress Dilemma

With my birthday a mere 10 days away I thought I ought to plan something so that I don’t spend it with a takeaway and a season of Supernatural (although saying that, that actually sounds like a good idea). I panicked and decided a fancy dress night out would be a laugh and I chose musicals as my theme, because who doesn’t love musicals? (most of my friends apparently but its my birthday so I care not) So with that in mind I began racking my brains for sexy musicals characters as the boyfriend will be attending (thats correct, he’s been promoted, more on that later, more pressing matters at hand) So I had can can dancer from Moulin Rouge, Roxy Hart or Velma Kelly of Chicago, and that was pretty much where my list ended. So I decided can can dancer was the outfit for me and prompty told the boyfriend who was most pleased at this decision

Indeed with an outfit like that can you really blame him? That girl is pretty fit. That was when it hit me, I’m not that girl, and unless a miracle happens and my mad exercise regieme of walking to the shops for food suddenly lets me lose 6 stone then it’s unlikely I will be her by the time my birthday comes around and boyfriend who thinks he’s getting that, will infact end up with her slightly podgey, shorter, paler counterpart probably stumbling about the place sloshing champagne and birthday cake everywhere (and if that’s not a turn on I dont know what is) So I scratched my dreams of being a can can girl and went back to the drawing board, hmm maybe a pantomime horse or the wicked witch of the west?

This led me to ask an important question about how I feel about my relationship with my thighs now that boyfriend is in the picture, after all, my thighs and I are very close. But the question is, Do I want to try and put extra effort into getting rid of them so as to have the best of legs now that I have someone to show them to (my mum reads this blog on occasion, sorry mum) or do I adopt a “love me, love my thighs” policy and assume that they havent put him off thus far so why indeed should they? Saying that, he’s not exactly Ryan Gosling so he can deal with it to be perfectly honest. But this still leaves me with the dilemma that I have no costume for my own bleeding birthday party. So I tried to think of musicals characters famed for their curves. I got no further than hairspray before realising that is essentially committing social suicide. I would change the theme but all my friends (yeah, the ones who claimed to hate musicals before they discovered all the ways they could dress like slappers) already have costumes. So it would seem I am doomed to the curse of looking positively awful in fancy dress once again and have nobody to blame but myself. With any luck I’ll drink far too much to actually care 🙂 Fear not dear reader, a whole portfolio of horrendous photos shall be uploaded for your perusal, along with one of the boyfriend hopefully 😛

My love hate relationship with my skinny friends.

So as I’ve already mentioned. I have always had skinny friends, I don’t know what it is. Maybe they saw me on the first day of school/uni/work wherever I met them and thought “ooh shes got big thighs, if we stand together mine will look thinner, I’ll be her friend” but then they realised how awesome I am and became my friend in a genuine way? maybe, but then again maybe I just have bad luck. Don’t get me wrong I do love them, I just wish they’d, i dunno, have bad hair or something.

But then people are like “well, they’re probably on constant diets would you really want that?” haha no, I’ll have my cake and eat it please, and then I’ll have some biscuits too, and possibly a packet of wotsits. But they’re not dieting either. See I have this friend, and she eats, she just eats, basically anything but she NEVER gets fat, and it’s for this reason that I believe that diets are a lie. If one person can eat so much and not get fat, surely someone else could go on a diet and not lose even a couple of ounces. Therefore, I don’t need to diet and I can just blame fate for my thighs for the rest of my life. Sorted.

The worst thing about skinny friends though is the things they say about themselves and about you.

“Oh I really need to slim down” – Oh? You do? Sorry, let me just eat the bait on your compliment fishing rod. No. Shut up. If you were so concerned about your weight you wouldnt have just inhaled a big mac and you wouldn’t be wearing skin tight dresses now would you?

“Oh yeah guys I just went to the gym”- Did you? Sorry, I thought you just walked around in gym gear with sweaty hair because you were attempting but failing to be sporty spice. The gym friend is not really a friend, more just a constant reminder of all the exercise you probably should be doing. But don’t worry, you can live your fitness dream through their gym experiences because they’re sure as hell going to tell , you all about it.

“But I wish I had curves like you”- Hmm. Do you? Do you like the feeling of chafing thighs? Do you like having to decide if you want your jeans to fit your waist or your bum? because you can only have one of those. Do you like buying sexy underwear only to have it absorbed into your being or to serve absolutely no purpose as the support is futile? Be careful what you wish for.

Sexy underwear, that reminds me, I went to Ann Summers with another skinny friend of mine on Tuesday as she was looking for something for her boyfriend for their “bedroom themed valentines day” (My bedroom themed valentines day shall consist of me lying in bed with a bottle of bubbly and some crappy tv, and all without shaving my legs. Whose the real winner here?). Of course, I succumbed to the illusion that I have any sex appeal and bought myself some sexy underwear, I then heard a girl on the other side of the shop say to her friend “I don’t get why single people buy sexy underwear, I mean who are they trying to impress?” It was like she knew! So I took my bag of very little material for the price it was and left. As I walked home the heavens opened and my impractical Ann Summers paper bag disintegrated, leaving a stream of lace and frills strewn across the road which I had to scamper after. A sign from the heavens that I should just stick to a good old M&S multipack?

One thing skinny friends are good for though is that they do encourage me to exercise, for example when we do work out thursdays I feel the need to keep up with them even though it nearly kills me just to try and show them that my thighs are not a result of laziness and that I’m just plain unlucky. Although it was with great smugness that I told them I couldn’t make it tonight because “Matt and I are going on a second date”. I then remembered that they both have long term boyfriends and that my measley second date was totally irrelevant. Ah well, Italian restuarant beats cardio any day.

 

 

 

Team talk with Dad

So I haven’t blogged in a while…Fear not, dear reader, my thighs did not, as I have feared before, become a seperate entity and consume me completely as their size gave them their own gravitational pull. They have indeed shrunk- but only by a tiny bit, I’d like to thank exercise but I’d be lying. I’m afraid my incredible shrinking thighs are a result of the fact that I have caught the lurg 😦 I attempted a takeaway last night before giving up after one mouthful (but never one to throw away good takeaway I have put it in the fridge to attempt again tonight regardless of any health warnings about reheating rice because I’m a rebel without a cause).

My face currently resembles that of an unwell puffer fish who has been stung by several wasps and has had a bit of an allergic reaction. Now, this wouldn’t be a problem if I could just stay in bed until it’s all out of my system. But no, because I am actually the most unlucky person on the planet, I have a date (my first one in ages!) on Friday and I will definitely not be fighting fit for a night out in a sushi restaurant with a man with the most perfect teeth and, you guessed it, HAS THIGHS BIGGER THAN MINE, so I’m not cancelling for love nor money. Also, if he gets ill then he can’t leave and I’ll be like Kathy Bates in misery but without having to break his ankles. Clearly the lurg has led me to delusion too. I should probably explain to readers who don’t know what the lurg is that it’s some sort of awful hybrid between the flu and a tummy bug AND a really bad migrane.

So, in my deluded drugged up on cough syrup and paracetamol state, I decided yesterday to text my dad about my dilemma. He said I had two choices, go feeling rough and not be usual “sparkly” self, or rearrange and risk blow out as bloke can’t be bothered- thanks dad, nice to know I’m clearly so replaceable. I thought that was the end of it. But then this text followed… (First though, look at this picture, would you take advice from this man?)

“So, early to sleep but with comms to boy saying not 100% but ok for tomorrow

that may lead to option but no cancellation as you could be ok

then tomo am need to be up shower and positive attitude

if you look good recovery comes quicker

then water and good food all day, apples and oranges and yoghurt

re group at 4pm, another shower and lots of water

refer back to options from initial comms and work off your agenda

no different to getting sales appointment

follow my plan to recovery and happy times ;)”

So if it weren’t weird enough that my dad has a game plan for getting me a date because I am so hopeless on my own, the fact that he ended it with a winky face does actually make me want to be ill, So instead I rescheduled my date thus buying myself more sit in bed and feel sorry for myself time. This does however limit my outfit deciding time but considering how I feel now, i think a onesie is perfectly acceptable and an effective thigh-hider. one thing is for sure, I won’t be asking my dad.

Will keep updated on how this goes, wish me luck!