Got nowhere to run to baby, nowhere to hide: the story of a fat girl packing for a beach holiday

I just love the writing style in the post

ReBlog ~RB02


I hate packing. No, that’s a lie. I detest packing. Nope, that’s a lie too – I loathe and detest the SELECTION process that naturally precedes the act of actually “packing”.

Now this isn’t because I’m some sort of fashion clothes horse who just has so many clothes that I JUST can’t decide which of my designer outfits I should carefully put in fabric suit carriers before folding into my Louis Vuitton oversized four wheeled suitcases.

Quite the opposite.

Because I’m one of those fat girls who is not going to stay fat and therefore doesn’t want to spend money on lots of clothes. I buy the necessary: layering clothes; that don’t bisect me at my widest part; chunky “distraction” jewellery; “slimming” black; etc, with which to attempt to express my personality whilst having that all important “skimming effect”.

Although my brother did say once that black can only slim…

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