Unspoken Conversations are the topics that are often swept under the carpet, whispered amongst the closest of friends and bitched about by many. I want to create awareness about difficult things that people face in life; grief, mental health, money, illnesses, family troubles, relationship difficulties and putting yourself first. I want to tell the truth about things that really matter.

Thursday, 23 January 2014

Honey I Shrunk my Clothes

Apparently machines don't have feelings but I think my washing machine has it in for me.

I even try to make it s life easy by sorting the whites from colors, pre soaking stained items, choosing the prettiest smelling summer scents washing powder and  whistling while filling it full, but still, it continues to rub me the wrong way.

It has the ultimate power; it shrinks my clothes. I'm sure of it. Last summer they fit perfectly as I pranced around in my colorful short shorts embracing the sunshine sprinkling my skin with its rays.

This year I'm  uncomfortably sucking in my belly and muttering little curses under my breath as I squeeze into the same shorts with raw  determination that they will indeed fit only to find that I've grown a muffin top and camel toe.

As I look into the mirror twisting and turning to see the rear view image I realize that my bum cheeks have gotten hungry and have managed to devour the bottom half of my shorts exposing my chubby cheeks for the world to see.

Not to mention the little dimples that have decided that now would be a great time to stamp their authority on my thighs.

People think that dimples look cute on cheeks but they fail to add in the word face.... While dimples may look cutesy woosey on face cheeks dimples on butt cheeks just look plan nasty which results in grown women cursing little stick thin giggling insects with no cellulite in sight.

But despite these glaringly obvious reasons not to leave the house in those shorts you still do because you don't want to give the washing machine the   satisfaction that it has won and torn to shreads your confidence.

Instead, you suck in despite the button digging into your skin and your failed attempts to grasp the minimal material left to be able to wiggle down your bottom to cover the smiling dimples and you try to strut the extra junk in your trunk with confidence.

Stuff you washing machine... you're not winning this time.

Look after yourself and those around you,

Kirsty xx

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