I loved the razor-sharp wit of John Cleese this week. In retaliation for being scorned for his ‘paunched belly’, Mr Cleese has hit back on Twitter by reminding the Daily Mail editor about his head start in the heart attack stakes (currently standing at 5-0). But, John, at least no one said you were pregnant.
Jennifer Aniston gave an insight into the unending scrutiny that she suffers from on a daily basis. In her recent article she informed us that tens of people have congratulated her on her ‘pregnancy’, on a daily basis, after a recent article speculated that she might be pregnant. Did you see the photos? It MUST have been someone unfamiliar with the human anatomy who came up with the idea that she was pregnant. Anyone with an IQ near 100 would have guessed that the gentle ‘curve’ of her trim stomach could only have been trapped wind or a healthy helping of fruit salad. So why is the media so obsessed with what everyone is doing with their bodies?
For one, the ideal that we must all be super healthy and stick thin has been thrust upon us by the media because such a physique, therefore, indicates success and wealth. So if celebrities already have that, the media’s jaws are wide open, waiting for those same celebrities to ‘let themselves go’. That way, when they do, we (the public) can enjoy watching them slide down into the fat pit of normality and be like everyone else.
I, for one, am not waiting for this. I just look forward to more jokes from Cleese and more great films from Aniston.
And then you have the ridiculous flip side: Celebrities receive scathing comments when they are deemed ‘too thin’. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. Let people eat their cake or their cabbage in peace.
I, for one, can have rather a rotund belly. Truth. And I have been accused of being pregnant when I haven’t been and, I can honestly say, it floors you. You feel like a wobbly waxwork of lard. And your self-esteem plunges into the depths of your boots so much that you want to google search ‘plastic surgery’ that second. For example, last summer, down the local park, another mum who I got chatting to (yummy and skinny as you like) sympathised about how tired I must be being three months pregnant while also looking after my twin girls.
I was NOT pregnant just, unfortunately, a bit porkier than normal and extra weight always goes to my midriff. Summer is great but bad for the gut: it’s those barbecues and ice-cream, they get me every year!
So, folks, I can sympathise with anyone whose physique is put under question. I felt terrible when one person asked if I was pregnant, so if tens of people had asked in one day I might just have wept. Next time I hope I can have a quick retort, ready, so that I can ‘get over it’ quickly rather than moan about it in a blog a year later. I do envy that Cleese quick wit!
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