It's a Wonderful Life…

…isn't it…?

Sunday Morning Chuckle Vision May 6, 2012

As I may have mentioned before my boyfriend has a penchant for staring at another man’s lycra clad behind. Last weekend, like many other weekends was rudely interrupted by the pair of them spending Sunday at a cycling event. Do hold your “where’s the harm in that? What an unreasonable girlfriend” until I’ve explained my issue with this. My main concern is not that I don’t get to see him or that I’m concerned by the love of a man’s lycra clad bottom: no I’m more concerned with the fact that this morning I was roused from a rather lovely Saturday night – don’t have to be up in the morinignsnoze. At six. A.m. Yes that’s correct: SIX A.M on a SUNDAY. For those of you that know me well you will understand what this means. I am a snarly, fire breathing dragon when awoken from my beauty sleep. His cycling buddy made the error of saying something about my looking less than impressed to be awake. I believe my mumbled “good morning” (social niceties, pah!) quite possibly came out more like the guttural snarl one would expect from a very.Hacked. Off. animal.

I didn’t run off to my own bed for further slumber though dear readers because what I saw next had to be observed until the bitter end. Two lycra clad men (I think they think they are ninjas/power rangers) both scratching their heads and detaching various parts of bike turning them every which direction and both trying to be the most expert “NO, I’ve done this before you know, I know what I’m doing”. Nothing like a bit of a Chuckle Brothers re-enactment to make loss of sleep bearable: “to me…to you” between the boot and the back seat, I was desperately hoping one would let go and fall flat on their lycra clad behind.  Eventually they were off after a good deal of pushing and shoving.

So now, would you like to play guess the number of puncture readers?


My Boyfriend Thinks I’m Fat February 5, 2012

I should eat more healthily, I should exercise; he’ll even buy me running shoes. Shocking, right? I’m kidding really, I mean, he does want to buy me running shoes but he doesn’t think I’m fat… just lazy. If he really thought I was fat I would consider that he had some sort of sub group of body dysmorphic disorder as I am a size 6. See he’s very fit and very much into dressing up in lycra and staring at another man’s lycra clad behind. Yes, he somehow manages to cycle something ridiculous like 60-100 odd miles every Sunday (the hero). Therefore me proclaiming my job to be very physical and spending my spare time hibernating under my duvet sounds an awful lot to him like lazy.

Irrespective of his views I had determined this would be the year I got fit. So I’ve looked at all the fitness options: cycling=perilous to my life, dancing=perilous to anyone around me, tennis=perilous to my bank balance and decided that perhaps I should start with a little bit of light jogging. So light, in fact, that the first jog I did was no further than to the end of my road and back again, well I had a nose bleed. Since my first jog I’ve invested in a few essentials in a bid to try and extend my staying power, most notably: a couple of sports bras. Ah, the sports bra, quite the creation. There’s a reason women are so keen to invest in these beauties. They are just so flattering. Oh um, actually I mean flattening. And really, what’s with the whole 1 set of clasps yank it over your head design?! I tried one on to check it fitted okay then found it a real struggle to get it off.  There was so much wriggling and struggling to get out of the blasted thing that I had to have a little rest on my bed. I very nearly ended up living out my days in a very attractive sports bra – well not quite in, more rolled up under my armpits unable to hoist it up any higher. I text the boyfriend to tell him about it and told him it was clearly created by a man. His response?

“You can’t be serious that you think men invented bras. What man would want to cover up boobies?!”