New Frontiers...

I swore I would not use this blog as a venting playground but today is all about new frontiers and I really feel the need to get something off my chest.

A weird thing happens when you put yourself in a public forum. People seek you out. That sounds frightfully arrogant and I didn’t mean it that way, I am well aware my book reviews are lining bird-cages across this fine nation. It’s more the surreal idea that people feel they know you enough to seek you out at all and make contact. Random people. Just like the delight I received today from a gentleman who decided his Tuesday morning was best spent crafting me an email to congratulate me on my ability to embrace my curves. WTF?

I find it strange that he could have even seen me, let alone find me to provide comment on my grand derriere. And what’s with the tone? Yes the email definitely had tone and it definitely intonated that he was actually surprised I left the house at all given my ‘voluptuous state’. My husband doesn’t seem to mind whatever I’ve got going on, well I’m still married so I figure that’s safe to presume...

Hang on, Tom was the email from you?

I digress, back to my issue with the curve commentary. What gives me the right royal irrits, is that this guy thinks I did nothing for it; that I just smashed a couple of cheeseburgers, skipped the personal trainer and weights sessions and then let my female hormones do the rest.

Here is the thing champ, I eat for a living. My career depends on it. Now if I worked in Hollywood, obviously the opposite would apply. I would eat air, get lypo-suction, faint dramatically on movie sets then run home to see if anyone had emailed me to tell me how delightfully skinny I was looking.

Given how well I eat, my ass is some serious a-grade, top-of-the-range fat. There’s wagyu in there, pork crackling, fondue, triple cream brie and all of his mates, the odd incidental bit of fois gras, chocolate –light and dark - as I hate to discriminate, and if I am being honest an obscene amount of butter. There is consistent, concentrated grazing in the top paddock. And I like to think the sort of 9+ marbling that Kobe and his brethren might hold a deep admiration for.

Yes I have an ass. We all do. (Quelle horreur) So I’m not sure why any of it deserves comment.  Should the day come where I choose to channel a bit more Hollywood and a little less feeding frenzy (I doubt it) I can guarantee you random emailer that the ass would still be there, probably just a little saggier,  significantly unhappier, and as equally unworthy of any kind of comment. So until you’ve put in the hours, the groundwork of some serious fork to mouth training, please refrain from commenting on my ass or anyone else’s for that matter. It makes you sound weird. Like you might need to get out more, perhaps go and get a bite to eat. Low blood sugar and hunger pains can bring on the crazy in anyone and I’m hoping that’s all that happened to you today.