Fat Stores

I'm at my parents for a couple of days to get some warmth into my bones rather than huddling round the heater at my little piece of Antarctica. Vegetables abound here. Lunch today was a milky parsnip and apple soup with a sweet and rooty flavour. Tonight i'm having that Crank's favourite Homity pie; wholemeal pie case filled deep with potatoes, onions, parsley, garlic and cheese.  My parent's kitchen smells heavenly.

For sport yesterday I took my fat stores (lovingly refered to as T K Fat) to the shops for the sheer joy of trying on clothes that fit. Here is what I learned this year through trying on everything in my size on the plus size rail. Not all clothes my size will fit or flatter, they simply aren't good enough for me and my body. Not rocket science I admit . Now I realise that clothing patterns vary from place to place and it's not me that's wrong it's the clothes! 

I'm seeing my clothing trips as therapy. I'm getting acclimatised to the bright lights and changing room doors that don't fasten and curtains with gaping holes in them and mirrors that magnify  T K Fat from all angles. Clothes shopping used to be unpleasant now I skip into the changing rooms full of hope, even when my purse is empty. I try on the garments, look at them thoroughly assess if it looks stunning, learning all the time about what flatters me best, then back on the hanger they go.  When a garment look ridiculous and a frightening number do, I laugh at the retailers pathetic attempts to sell me inferior goods.

Yesterday we fed my sick cat two tins of tuna as a last supper which it woolfed down ferociously. My folks took him to the vet imagining the worst. I shed numerous tears in private, steeling myself for the return of an empty basket. It returned quite jubillant and sneezed a little. Poor thing isn't quite as near to death as we imagined it's just suffering from a chest infection and an over active thyroid. Dad is very impressed at the cat's acting skills in conning us out of two tins of tuna.