Monty is rolling around the floor, his fat belly plopping on the faded mat like a several pounds of blackberry jelly.
His mum is balancing on a chair, her fat belly straining in her elegant kimono rather like a giant blancmange struggling to escape from a plastic bag.
So.
Not much I can do for Monty except cut down his tea-time treats but there is something me can do for me. Drive to Argos to buy an 'abdotrim tummy exerciser'.
All this nonsense about exercise and weight is giving me the pip. Last week I bought some electronic bathroom scales. I stood on them once and then shoved them behind my bursting wardrobe:) Ridiculous. Not only am I constantly standing sideways looking in the mirror I'm now wasting money on weight related things. This has to stop.
My bigger better brainier half is also banging on about weight, only his rants are much worse than mine because being the tech genius he is, he insists on talking in kilos. Confusion all round. I weigh 8st 2lbs by the way.
Monty has stopped lolling and has now turned his back on me to stare stupidly at the dusty bookshelves. I love that cat.
I must now get ready for a half-hearted, half-days work.
I love my full-fat afternoons.
Goodblubber.....
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