It’s OK

I said I wouldn’t blog for the entire month of May following April’s blog-a-rama, however I came across this amazing TEDx talk today and I simply couldn’t let it go by without drawing your basketball belly attention to it.

Golda Poretsky is AWESOME. Like properly, brilliantly AWESOME.

Her website Body Love Wellness rocks my world. Her podcasts ring with resonance in my ears.

I’m gushing again…but she really is great.

Here’s her brilliant TED talk.

Watch. Enjoy. Love your body. Right now. As it is.

Z is for Zaftig

The end of the A to Z blog challenge is here. We made it here together!

Right back at the beginning, when some people commented how tough certain letters would be to write about, I always knew what Z would be for.

Curvy. Fat. Large. Big. Buxom. Pick whichever one you like.

My favourite is Zaftig.

Such a great word to describe me, I love it!

(Incidentally if you’re a fan of a bit of literary smut, search out the collection of short erotic stories with the same name….super-sexy-hot)


So….challenge complete. Thanks for reading, I have really enjoyed sharing and writing more often.

I hope you stick around, I’ve always got heaps to say.

Goodnight readers! Zzzzzzzzzzz

D is for dinner party

I had never been invited to a dinner party before. It all seemed very grown up and exciting.

Of course I faffed about for ages over my outfit and decided on a simple BBD (big black dress) I did something unfathomable and therefore unrepeatable with my hair and I felt good.

I obviously knew the host couple but I hadn’t yet met anyone else who would be attending. As a permanent singleton, this is always an exciting and terrifying prospect. You never know if well-intentioned friends are going to spring an unsuspecting blind date from nowhere (not always unwelcome, but in my experience highly cringeville)

That would have been preferable to the actual outcome of the evening.

Oh yeah, brace yourself. It’s about to get fifty shades of awful….

So I arrived promptly like a good dinner party guest with a big smile and a bottle in my hand (I’d seen Come Dine With Me, I knew what to do)

Immediately I was introduced to a young chap called Asshat (names have been changed) who was posh and a tiny bit (hella load) pompous. But as a polite young professional I could smile and play nicely as our hosts tended to things in the kitchen.

(It is worth mentioning here that there was no romantic intention from our hosts, this wasn’t a blind date in disguise – it might have been the very worst if it was! There were other solo guests too)

Small talk is my forte. I can literally talk to anyone about anything for any length of time. We all have gifts. Incessant nattering is mine.

We covered such exciting topics as the weather, work and the aromas emanating from the oven.

I must have revealed something about myself that sparked a flicker of recognition as he suddenly clicked his fingers and exclaimed with a massive grin

“Ahh! I know who you are now! You’re Fat Kate!”

Our hosts re-entered the room at the exact moment I wanted to die.

Since this time my internal scriptwriter has come up with some incredibly witty, pithy put-downs in response to Asshat. Each one of them would have floored him and questioned his manhood as well as intelligence. But at the time? Nothing.

My gift for always finding something to say failed me and I crumbled. I can’t remember what I actually said. Something along the lines of “Yeah, that’s me”

Suddenly I felt stupid. And ashamed. Is this how my friends referred to me?

Did I have a cruel nickname I knew nothing about? Had I been invited as a twisted joke?

If I could have cried and ran out of the building I would have done.

Instead I smiled and cried within.

I didn’t eat a single thing at that dinner party.

Epilogue : I have seen Asshat a handful of times since that evening (small world) He is still an Asshat. I have since developed excellent mechanisms for dealing with such types and was able to tell him exactly where to put his married penis when he very kindly offered to share it with me. You wouldn’t believe it….

Things I know…

I know that he was a nasty man. I know that I did nothing wrong (other than failing to stick up for myself) I know that if this same thing happened today I would handle it differently. I know I probably shouldn’t give this evening any more thought.

D is for Done.

A is for Audition

“You are the pride of your country. You are Great Britain. When you open your eyes…4 billion people all around the world will be looking at your face. Open your eyes…”

The rush of excitement I felt at that moment is still with me as I write that.

It was October 2011 and I was at my first audition to perform in the London 2012 Olympics Opening Ceremony.

Suddenly, after initially applying on a bit of a lighthearted whim, I wanted it bad. Really bad.

I sang my heart out, danced my feet off, acted my socks off and sashayed my butt so hard it ached.

There were thousands of us. I had to stand out. Make my mark. Be big and amazing and impressive.

Was I terrified? Of course. But did I want to make it mine? Yes!

For once I let go, forgot all about every fear and insecurity I had ever carried with me and gave it everything I had.

It felt great.

For that reason, I then decided to make every single day an audition day.

To not be afraid, to not be ashamed, to not be anyone else but me, filled with joy.

Audition-Me is fearless. I like her.

Feel My Love

Bit late to the Joan Rivers vs. Adele nastiness but I thought I’d throw my little contribution at the growing pile of commentary.

Those disparaging Joan Rivers’ appearance in response to her personal attack on our beloved Adele have completely missed the point.

Acceptance. Love. Kindness.

My Mum always used to say to us as kids “If you do it back, you’re just as bad” and my Mum is NEVER* wrong. (*ask my Dad)

Clearly Ms Rivers has her own acceptance issues. The irony in her making fun of someone else’s appearance isn’t lost.

She is also a comedian trying to do her job and make people laugh. We know that fat jokes are not a new thing.

But are they funny? Nope. Will they stop? Only if we stop laughing.

You’re a heifer…but a hot one

What Katie Price thinks about anything doesn’t really keep me awake at night. She may very well be a fascinating thinker (shame on me for judging) however her ponderings are usually pretty inconsequential to me.

This week in her Sun newspaper column (don’t ask me how I saw it) Katie Price wrote about recent bikini photographs of Kelly Brook and reached the incredible conclusion,

“You’re a heifer…but a hot one”

Kelly Brook is size eight.

Yeah she’s got boobs (don’t we know it) and hips and bits that go in and out.


But a “heifer”?

Three things….

1. The fact that a size 8 woman could ever be considered a “heifer” both sickens and saddens me. Utterly ridiculous! I’m especially concerned that Katie Price is a mum to a little girl (who probably doesn’t read The Sun…yet. But also who probably doesn’t have great body positivity messages at home.) Worrying.

2. Sisterly solidarity. Sometimes other women can be our biggest ‘enemy’. Jealousy, insecurity, ignorance, good old-fashioned bitchiness…whatever factors are at play – women can be horrible to other women when really they could be our strongest allies. We’re in this together!

I don’t know Katie Price personally but I’m going to take a wild guess that she has issues with her own body acceptance. Ladies and Gentlemen I present a catalogue of surgical intervention as Exhibit A.

I’m sure she’s had her fair share of nastiness directed at her and I’m also sure, despite a tough exterior, that it hurt.

Why on earth then would you inflict that hurt upon someone else? (The use of ‘FLAB-bergasted’ is just plain nasty)

3. The BUT…..”….but a hot one” Does that make it ok? Does the ‘but’ make it acceptable?

I’ve had plenty of ‘buts’ in my time (behave)

Those ‘but’ moments can be said or unsaid – either way they hurt just as much. Sometimes they can arrive disguised as a compliment (“You have such a pretty face…..what a shame” – assistant in a clothes shop) or as well-intentioned advice (“The thing is Kate, you’ve got to have something wrong with you. If you were thin as well….you’d just be TOO perfect” – a male ‘friend’ offering dating wisdom)

I could go on with real-life examples – they are all stored on my mental hard-drive – but I’m sure I’d bore you. And I’m sure you wouldn’t believe that people could possibly say such things. You’d be surprised.

Bottom line is (I’m obsessed with butts…) my body, your body, Kelly Brook’s body, ANYONE’s body is not up for comment. With or without a ‘but’ to soften the blow.

Are you ready for this jelly?

Five days ago I began my 100 days of dancing every morning when I wake up.

This is my painless and most importantly FUN commitment to my body in an attempt to make friends with it again.

Early indications show that this is the best thing in the entire world.

(Do let me know if you try this too…I’d love to know if you’re dancing with me)

My favourite day so far has got to be my Bootilicious morning (Monday) in homage to the Superbowl. There’s nothing quite like a bit of booty-shaking to get your day off to the best possible start.

If you disagree then quite frankly I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly.

I will be counting down (or up?) to Day 100 but at this stage I’m pretty sure that my morning jiggle will eventually become permanently embedded into my routine. As regular as brushing my teeth and enjoying my jumbo coffee.

I am loving choosing my theme song for the day but I’m also aware that there may come a day where (to quote the Scissor Sisters) I don’t feel like dancing. We’ll cross that bridge if and when the unthinkable happens.

There may be trouble ahead….but while there’s Beyonce and jelly and love and romance….

Let’s face the music and DANCE.