Daddy, you've got boobies!!
My daughter shouted this last night then burst into gales of laughter. My right eyebrow rose so high that it threatened to break free of the confines of my face.
Oh really!
Silly lass, all that time breastfeeding when she was young had obviously raddled her brain.
And a mummy tummy!!
Given that being with child, mummy is the size of a house just now I did not feel particularly flattered.
Still, children do talk rubbish at times. I put it out of my mind.
I had recently chucked the snout. What the devil is the snout you cry?
What I mean is that I stopped smoking. It is a hard thing. At every turn it seems that people that I never even noticed before are puffing on the old brown weed. They are everywhere. Most often seen huddling in doorways clutching their spitty little tabs. I do my best to ignore them and the accompanying siren call of nicotine as it beckons me to come back to the fold.
In work today I popped out to the shops for some much needed snackage.
Obviously, immediately outside the building I had to battle my way through hordes of smokers puffing frantically away whilst on a break.
It was with great relief that I made it to the other side of the smokey cloud they produced. I headed off for them munchies.
As I walked past a shop window I caught a glimpse of a passer by in the reflection of the street. He looked a bit porky.
Daddy you've got boobies
Rang in my head. Then for good measure,
And a mummy tummy!!
Imagine my horror when I realised that the moobster I had glimpsed in the window was my very own self?
What the blazes? I am gigantic. And not in a good Pixies song kind of way.
These two events made me realise that since stopping smoking I have been essentially comfort eating. I have even known on some level that I have needed to shed a couple of pounds to avoid looking like a bag of udders.
if I put on any more weight I will positively be demanding a Princess Leia that I can haul about on a chain aka Jabba the Hutt.
Of course, as we all know. It's one thing to be aware on some level that you might need to shed a few lardons but entirely another to be derided by your daughter or to realise that you have been sneering at your own reflection for being chunky the hunky monkey.
So I am presented with two stark options.
Go on some manner of Fasting/dieting/amending what I eat nonsense.
Put my eyes out with a sharp thing so that I need never offend them again.
Unsurprisingly I am going to go with Option 1.
So today I start the purge. It is an elegant solution I have proposed to myself. Easy to follow too.
I dont mind sharing it with you all in the hope that it may help if you find yourself in the same bind.
Number 1 - Stop eating so much shite.
Number 2 - Stop eating so much shite.
Number 3 - Stop. Eating. So. Much. Shite!
I could be on to something. I can almost see the book already.