While out for a walk in the park earlier, I found myself confronted by an appalling apparition as the light dimmed.
Walking towards me was a woman of indeterminate age, who, unfortunately for her, bore more than a passing resemblance to a walrus.
It wasn’t the chins, or the frizzy hair, or the moustache. Nor was it the laboured walk as she clung to her walking frame. No, what did it was the gut, and boy, was there a lot of it. Roll upon roll of heaving, sagging flab, hanging way down past her personals to her knees. Believe me, it was not a pretty sight. By way of illustration I give you this (Actually, we’ve used it as the header pic. Cheers, mate – Day Admin)
Yes, she really looked as though she’d got a huge, sagging arse on back to front. Lord knows when she’d last seen her most prized possession. Lord knows when anyone else had, or would want to, for that matter.
Truly I felt a bit sorry for her, because it was a pathetic sight to behold. But then, how can people actually allow themselves to get into such a state to begin with? It’s just so bloody grim to look at. It must be even grimmer for her to see herself in the mirror ever day. I think I’d top myself before I got into such a state.
Boy, was I glad to get back into the house and see the wife; turned sixty, but still with a stomach like an ironing board and an arse as tight as a drum. What a woman.
I count my blessings.
Nominated by: Ron Knee
