An Over Abundance

It seems the ‘well fed’ decree at my place has been a tad extreme.  Well it is if the comment this morning by the squeeze is anything to go by.

We were doing a morning stroll around the neighbourhood.  I will admit that sometimes I view this as freak watching.  Over my side of town the people are old, Greek, loud.  You walk around and there are tables of wrinkle faced old men, smoking and sipping coffee while they prattle on in Greek a million miles an hour.  Young women all dressed up and sipping coffee.  There is a lot of laughter.  They are big, happy families.  I love it.

Around ‘clean freak hell’ the people are young, trendy couples who are so desperately trying to stand out, be different, show how original they are – that they stupidly missed the reality that they have achieved the opposite.  They are all the same.  Either tubby lesbians who are dressing like men; complete with singlet tops, crew-cuts and no makeup; or skinny girls who look about 16 with long braids, multi coloured tights and clothes your mother would have worn – God knows when.  Everyone has a pierced something and those with long hair have a streak of blue or vibrant red.

I am coming out the other side of my adverse reaction to antibiotics and some of the repercussions of this have been an aching everything – but mostly a dull throb in my joints that has me walking around with a pinched expression on my face.  It is washing out of my system, thank God, but I’m not unaware that this is what arthritis feels like either – it sucks getting old.  So to walk and people watch, I like.  But I can’t meander.  I need to move at some sort of pace or my joints start to throb.  Today, the twinge started in my feet.

When I happened to mention that we needed to pick up the pace as my feet were hurting, the squeeze turned to me and asked why.  I mentioned the fact that although he had done a runner and hidden out at ‘clean freak hell’ while I was home almost dying; I had in fact been sick!  Really sick; so sick I’d actually gone off and got my epipen because I figured I may well just up and die!  I finished it off with: “it’s either that or I’ve got so freaking fat that I’ve squashed my feet.”

And then he made life rule mistake number 1. 

He had an opinion.

In fact his opinion was that he wasn’t even going to comment on that one.  Hell, he may as well of hired a good year blimp to fly over Northcote declaring his squeeze was a over the top, Fat freaking cow!  Ummm; not going to comment?  What about: “No my love! You are a Goddess!”

And all this from a guy who has gained over 10 kilo since going out with me!  Yep, suck me in then just let that flubber fly!  Hell, 2 inches shorter and he would be a damned circle!

Humph!  Well, let the games begin fat boy!