Despite affectionate in-group monikers for big gay men-chubs,bears, cubs-the anti-fat stigma that persists in American culture at largestill haunts these individuals who often exist at the margins of gaycommunities. She’s a sassy, independent woman who doesn’t need two men to give her food and filtered water, oh no indeed.To be fat in a thin-obsessed gay culturecan be difficult. Except it’s a Come Any Closer and I’ll claw out your bastard eyes. This is Sola’s version of a Come to Bed face. Has a genuine cat version of OCD, where she will stop what she’s doing, lick herself all over as if she’s on fire and then carry on. The street bike, but it’s fine since we had her shaved, spayed and tied up. I need to clarify two things – we were given this house after an old lady died in the bathroom and caused a slow leak – fixing that meant we haven’t had time/money to replace the wonderful nursing-home carpet (and it’s such good warm carpet that I’m secretly relunctant to remove it) AND, the cat does actually have back legs. Here is Bowser, doing his best impression of Lieutenant Dan from Forrest Gump on our fetching living room carpet. Has more money spent on his cat food than we spend on ours.
Goes out into the street, comes back in with a torn ear or split face and expects us to take him to the vets. Overly affectionate tom-cat who seems to have forgotten that we had his knackers removed. Even though we get a Hotel Chocolat monthly delivery, his standards are low.Ĭrap fighter. His weakness: ASDA white chocolate buttons. Want to lose weight because: as much as he likes getting his shirts from the garden centre as normal shops don’t cater for his rubenesque frame, he just once wants to come jazzhanding his way out of Eldon Square with a selection of fashionable attire.ĭesperately want to: sleep through the night without gasping for breath like a fish out of water Now if we wear football kit people think we’re a mascot and push us over.ĭistinguishing features: the shorter one, the younger one, the cook (he cooks the savoury, I generally cook the sweet), massive scar on his right arm from trying to jump over a ditch in Peterborough (who wouldn’t) and tearing open his arm on a rusty shopping trolley. When we met, we were both skinny enough to convincingly wear football tops and look intimidating with our shaved heads and mean looks. He’s also had a yo-yo period of dieting, managing to get up to an impressive 28 stone (5ft 7″ – that’s wide and tall at the time) before losing a good chunk of it from being too poor to get taxis everywhere. We’re pretty much in an open marriage with Ben & Jerry. Three floors is alright for a lift visit, after all.ĭesperately want to: find fame in the ‘Over to You’ section of Pick Me Up posing with my giant elasticated slacks and a ‘JUST LOOK AT ME NOW’ face on.
Want to lose weight because: I look like a cooling lava flow when I lie on my back.I’ll also actively go down a floor at work so that I can legitimately take the lift rather than climbing two flights of stairs. The late Robin Williams level of hairiness. Slight tendency towards hypochondria and understatement. That and the fact I had a haircut last seen on Enya in the eighties.ĭistinguishing features: the taller one, the heavier one, the baker, scar on my forehead from cartwheeling into a door aged 8 (the clues were there, mind). I actually think my hilarious response of ‘casual sex and hard drugs’ to the question of ‘how did you lose the weight’ might have swayed the judges away from me. Didn’t seem fair at the time and to be honest, it still smarts now. Back in the misty days of the late nineties, I actually managed to lose seven stone and almost won Man of the Year, only for it to be snatched away from me from someone whose foot had turned black and couldn’t fit on an operating table. I’m the one with a more complex Slimming World history, having spent a good ten years half-heartedly following the plan (it works when you follow it, not so well when you add in complex ice-creams and extra-easy-to-order takeaways).