Friday, October 16, 2009

Break glass in case of emergency

I keep emergency clothes at work. One (1) set of undies, and one (1) shirt.


Well, I have IBS. Sometimes with IBS things happen. Unpleasant things. In the arse area. It can get ... weird.

The shirt was because once I swapped out the one I was wearing for my T-Shirt at work, kept for exercise at lunchtime and a change pre / post walking in case I got the sweats on.

I swapped the T-shirt out because the shirt I was wearing was ... ill advised. It was too tight. Like button bowing out tight. Like if you sat on the lav you had to hoist the shirt up first like Daisy fucking Duke in case you blew said buttons off and they shrapneled into the door. This too tight shirt became my emergency shirt.

Today, during lunch, I got some food stuck. It happens now and then. I had to tell the lovely cafe people I'd be some time, Captain Oates style, and asked them not to clear away my stuff. Then I went outside, out of view of their windows, and spent five minutes yacking up half digested roast lamb.

Alas ... I had a partial vom dribble on the shirt I was wearing.

So when I got back to work, the dreaded too tight shirt was called into service. I felt like a superhero - not because I have powers - but because I was wearing what felt like a skintight latex costume, and I was worried I was displaying a hint of man nip to co-workers.

It was most uncomfortable ... and I am going to fuck it off for good. Life's too short to have in your wardrobe shitty shirts that remind you that you're packing excess bulk.

Oh - and while I am at it - I have to confess some irritation at myself for inadvertent hypocrisy - judging someone for their appearance. While in the cafe I saw a bunch of IT lads headed out the door. One of them was a big lad - with glasses - a double chin. He was happy, smiling, joking with his friends. And my first thought was 'how can you possibly be happy when you look like that?'

How fucked is that, that I am bringing my own shitty fucked in the head sadness at my body shape and laying it at the door of someone I don't even know just because they were fat'n'happy?!

That's fucked.


  1. Hey
    This is my first comment here, I came across your blog form some other random blog.
    I hate that I do it but I always fall into the same trap of judging other overweight people, just stupid really.
    So your not alone

  2. Awww Mikey :( It probably just stems from all the bad experiences you've had because of your weight and gives you a reflexive assumption that everyone has experienced the same. Maybe dude was lucky enough not to. Or maybe he was lucky enough to have the kind of resilient personality that can dismiss that kind of senseless crap dished out by other people (whether weight-related or otherwise). Or maybe (and I hope not) he's good at faking it.

    But it's no more fucked up that you were picking on him in your head than it would be if someone who was 6'7, tanned and buff was doing the same. What's fucked up is that we do it at all and it can carry over into the way we interact with people.

  3. I think you're probably right. I had a bad fat day on Friday from the too tight shirt (I really did have to hoist it up before I sat down).

    So fuck it. I had a fatty food weekend. Pies, pattie meal (twice!), a Chicken Kiev... and nachos!

    Fuck you stomach, two of us can play at that game.

    Greetings to SBS10PM. Welcome to my neuroses...


No comments needed, really.

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.