More than a handful is a waste
Victoria Beckham, former Spice Girl and current wife of soccer star David Beckham, once told a reporter that her husband loves her small breasts since David thought “more than a handful is a waste.”
So what does David think of her breasts since she upgraded her cumquats to grapefruits?
I wouldn’t know what his answer would be, although I can certainly assume he’s keeping mum on the whole subject.
Personally, I couldn’t care less about the situation.
Unless, of course, it’s about me.
**
One day, while at the kitchen sink, washing dishes, my sister comes up behind me and squeezes my cheeks.
I almost drop a plate.
“You know, your bum feels a little bigger now. What have you been doing?”
“Uh, nothing.”
“Really? It must be because you’re eating more.”
“That must be it. Whatever I eat, it goes straight to my ass…”
“You know, before you hardly had anything. Now, you can at least grab something…”
**
When I was working crazy hours, I hardly had enough time to eat. Correction, I wasn’t allowed to eat. If I ever placed a fork near my mouth, someone would show up at my desk and wonder why I was eating and not working.
This occurred so often, I became paranoid and started sneaking off when others weren’t looking. I made myself invisible. It was like Anne Frank's family stuck in the attic. If they made any noise, they’d be discovered and killed.
Oh, yeah, right… They were.
Now that I am back to a regular schedule, I have packed on those pounds that I lost, and it seems, most of them went to south of the border, down Mexico way.
It could be worse. I could’ve packed on five pounds per love handle.
Now, that would’ve been a waste.
So what does David think of her breasts since she upgraded her cumquats to grapefruits?
I wouldn’t know what his answer would be, although I can certainly assume he’s keeping mum on the whole subject.
Personally, I couldn’t care less about the situation.
Unless, of course, it’s about me.
**
One day, while at the kitchen sink, washing dishes, my sister comes up behind me and squeezes my cheeks.
I almost drop a plate.
“You know, your bum feels a little bigger now. What have you been doing?”
“Uh, nothing.”
“Really? It must be because you’re eating more.”
“That must be it. Whatever I eat, it goes straight to my ass…”
“You know, before you hardly had anything. Now, you can at least grab something…”
**
When I was working crazy hours, I hardly had enough time to eat. Correction, I wasn’t allowed to eat. If I ever placed a fork near my mouth, someone would show up at my desk and wonder why I was eating and not working.
This occurred so often, I became paranoid and started sneaking off when others weren’t looking. I made myself invisible. It was like Anne Frank's family stuck in the attic. If they made any noise, they’d be discovered and killed.
Oh, yeah, right… They were.
Now that I am back to a regular schedule, I have packed on those pounds that I lost, and it seems, most of them went to south of the border, down Mexico way.
It could be worse. I could’ve packed on five pounds per love handle.
Now, that would’ve been a waste.
Authored by S at 12:00 am
3 Comments:
... and a waist!
I hate the way I carry weight ... ugh.
Six: Who loves the weight they carry? I haven't heard of anyone loving the extra 10 holiday pounds they lug around until swimsuit season.
Mercury: I don't mind the butt weight - it's so much more comfortable (no pillow necessary when sitting).
Just stay away from those vegan cookies. Those things have more trans fats than you know.
I've never been a gym bunny, more like the gibbonesque creature from some sci-fi flic a la Planet of the apes goes Rain forest. Now that I've been on the treadmill for 3 months my ass now closely resembles the ass of a hominid. Good thing, I was beginning to wonder why I had such a thing for grubs.
kb
Post a Comment
<< Home