SO I was sitting having some lunch and reading the paper when I came across a small article about a large department store who have taken the decision to produce some men’s clothing in size XXXXXL.
Well, I nearly choked on my deep-fried pizza and it was just as well I had a litre of fizzy pop to wash it down.
What on earth are the measurements needed to fill this range? And more to the point, isn’t it of considerable alarm to someone that there are now so many people of this proportion that Debenhams feel the need to produce these clothes, because believe me they wouldn’t be doing this if there wasn’t a demand.
In the past I have read about how obesity is the ticking health time bomb in our country. Being seriously overweight damages the heart and can lead to diabetes. I can’t imagine it is too good for the liver either, making that poor internal organ work overtime.
The fact is that if there had always been so many seriously hefty folk then XXXXXL clothes would have been in the shops for quite some time. It is a simple fact of supply and demand.
Now I know that there are some people who have problems with their weight. I am someone who is naturally curvy, and I have friends who are able to eat virtually anything yet hardly gain an ounce of fat. However, to get to 20 stone (or whatever that is in kilgrammes) you have to shovel a heck of a lot of grub down your gullet.
After I had my first child I ballooned in size; there was no other word to describe me than porky. I was almost at the kaftan stage of disguise. However, I knew that there was only one person who could do anything about the situation and I looked at her every morning in the mirror.
I bought an exercise DVD and jumped about the sitting room in my underwear at least three times a week. I ate salads and grilled meat and body-swerved the chocolate biscuits which had been part of my downfall. And it didn’t take long before I was back into my pre-pregnancy clothes.
George Osborne is bringing in a sugar tax in the hope that this will help alleviate the problem as well as raising money. All well and good; but it doesn’t take a degree in rocket science, or indeed domestic science, to know what makes one fat. If you are offered the choice between an apple or a family-size bag of Maltesers, who on earth would actually think that the latter has the same amount of calories or nutritional value as the former? Being obese is the result of a lifestyle choice; it is nothing to do with income – it’s a good deal cheaper to pop a potato in the oven than buy a poke of fish and chips.
Don’t get me wrong because I am no Gillian Keith being evangelical about my diet. I put cream in some food and butter on my toast. I have even been known to eat a bag of Maltesers. However, the only time I want to see that many X’s in a row is at the end of a text.
PS, I was joking about the deep fried pizza – I prefer a battered sausage any day.
This is suds’ law
There are several things in life that really annoy me and I now have a new one to add to the list.
The other day I decided to wash the car. As I drove towards the car wash someone nipped in before me, but that’s just life.
However, the driver then got out and sauntered into the shop to buy her voucher. So the car wash remained empty whilst she queued up not realising that my time is extremely valuable – well it is to me anyway.
So you know who you are missus, in your blue VW Bora (for legal reasons I haven’t typed in the registration number) and I am sure your mother didn’t bring you up to be so rude and inconsiderate.
Do the right thing, Philip
Philip Green – what can I say that hasn’t already been said? Apparently he’s a greedy, tax-evading, shouty man who has more boats than anyone needs. Except the Royal Navy.
He commutes between Monaco and London on his private jet, which does sound a tad like a right show-off, but that’s just from a girl who generally has to turn right when getting aboard a plane. He counts Kate Moss as one of his best friends, although I am not sure if that is something about which he should boast. Tony Blair sucked up to him because our former Prime Minister is obsequious with anyone with a few bob in the bank.
Personally, I have rarely set foot in one of his shops (although BHS is a great place for cheap lampshades) because I am not sure I trust the style of a man who possesses such a large number of Hawaiian shirts.
I imagine his PR department are running around like headless chickens, but I suggest he gets some of the squillions he has squirrelled away in Monaco and make sure that all those people that worked for him get the pensions they deserve.
I’ve not quite lost the plot yet
IS anyone watching Marcella? That’s with the “c” pronounced “ch” of course. I am really enjoying it and Anna Friel is wonderful, but truth be told I haven’t a clue what is going on.
There are so many characters and sub-plots that I really can’t keep up at all – just when we thought it was Owen from Coronation Street who was killing all those people with plastic bags it turns out he only did a couple of them.
Needless to say I’ll be tuning in next Monday to see how it all ends up.