Bodies

20th February 2007

According to the television news this morning fifty per cent of women are said to be unhappy with their bodies. It’s a good job they didn’t ask men because if they had I wouldn’t mind betting that about ninety nine per cent of them would have said they’re unhappy with women’s bodies. I know I am. Because for every woman I see who has a gorgeous figure with magnificent tits that point in front of them, long lovely legs and a pert little bottom, there at least ninety nine who either have enormous pendulous tits that point at the floor or no tits at all, legs like sparrows, or bottoms that droop down lower than a horse’s nosebag, and very often all three.
Leaving aside the fifty per cent of women who are unhappy with their bodies this leaves forty nine per cent who presumably couldn’t give a shit about having vast pendulous tits that point at the floor or no tits at all, legs like sparrows, or bottoms that droop down lower than a horse’s nosebag, and very often all three of them.
Fortunately I am not married to one of them. I am married to a woman who, though one of the fifty per cent of women unhappy with their body, it being sixty six years old for one thing, does give a shit about it. Unfortunately this means that both our bathroom cabinets, one of which is as big as small wardrobe, are filled to overflowing with cosmetic lotions, potions, creams, oils and unguents of a bewildering and never-ending variety. When she eventually pops her clogs Avon will probably go into receivership because they don’t just call at our house they camp out here.
I have to put my sole aids to keeping myself presentable, namely my shaving tackle, toothbrush, hairbrush and deodorant on top of one of the cabinets, where it vies for space, frequently losing it, with even more of The Trouble’s beauty aids. I often wish she’d settle for being one of the forty nine per cent.

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Terry Ravenscroft, 19 Ventura Court, Ollersett Avenue, New Mills, High Peak, SK22 4LL

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