Lanky lass body issues
After the revelations of yesterday, I thought I might as well go full on with the rest of my weird traits. You see, since about 11, I have been 5”11. Yeah the freaky tall girl at school, I overtook the lads and was always at the back of the school photos, I mean how embarrassing. When it came to getting a school uniform, I could never go to the cool stores, think Tammy Girl peeps, that was a pipe dream for me. I was so jealous of all the other more feminine girlies, with their “normal” sizes and huge variety of choice. I had to go to adult shops, and believe me the fashion was different, not even sure you could call it fashion even in those days. I know this may seem weird in this age of online shopping and instant gratification. I had a 33 inch inside leg, lanky ol’ me.
I remember getting on a bus with my mam at the age of 11 and the bus driver saying I would have to pay the adult fare. Please bear in mind in these days I think it was 10p to travel (I can hear minds blowing all over throughout the younger generation) it was possibly even only 5p. The bus driver asked my mam if she was sure I was under 16, to which she had the perfect response “Well I was there when she was born!” Go mam! A fight for a bus pass at the youngest age ever followed.
When I was in the nativities at school I was always the Angel Gabriel, which to be fair I loved because my tinsel halo was the biggest and the best. Even if I was miffed never to be Mary, we all know other than the doll in the manger, she was the star of the show! I say I was happy to be Angel Gabriel, well I was until I found out, (prepare yourselves, this might shock you) the Angel Gabriel, is in fact a MAN!
You may wonder what lead me to this random and somewhat lanky rant?! Well I will tell you shall I? I took up running to get the streamlined figure, I always knew I deserved (cough, cough). The figure of a supermodel. I however seem to have had some kind of adverse effect to running, my body seems to be out to take the piss out of me. What I have, is the legs of a rugby player. Gone are the days of skinny jeans (I don’t care if they are no longer in fashion, I really like them). I went shopping for some jeans and I have to say, trouser shopping has always led to a melt-down depression, only to be soothed with a few gins. This experience has now been made even more traumatic, thanks to my calves which now resemble a packed tube carriage in rush hour. I honestly thought I was going to have to buy them and make this the new fashion trend; “The ankle jean, perfect for those hot summer days, to air off your thighs and flash the locals. “ After squeezing myself out of the painted on denim, I tried on another pair of jeans, more stretchy “This is going to be good”. Oh how wrong, they passed my ankles, even my calves, but left me with hideous camel toe, which could be seen from the next city and I looked like I was squeezed into surgical stockings.
So I bought a top and a coat, left the shop with the smug thought, “At least my waist is smaller and haven’t had joggers nipple, yet!”.