Oh, photos, how I love when you’re of someone else. But, oh, how I hate you when you’re of me.
Because, you see, in my head things are so very different to the reality.
Take, for example, a colleague’s wedding in the summer. In my head I looked like Emily Blunt at George Clooney’s wedding. (I swear she copied me!)
But then the official photos came through on a Facebook link.
WHEN DID I GET SO FAT?!?!
I’m not Emily Blunt. I’m Emily Blunt’s reflection in one of those ‘funny’ mirrors at the fair!
AND I was wearing Bridget Jones underwear!
And my God you don’t want to see the pictures of me dancing!!! (Or, rather, I don’t want you to see the pictures of me dancing.)
It’s clearly time to do something about it. My options are:
1) Chuck that dress out for a start!
2) Breathe in. Always. Exhaling’s a luxury I can do without, right?
3) Start dressing as an Egyptian mummy at all times (because not even Spanx can help me as much as I need it).
4) Stop standing next to skinny friends.
5) Do something about it.
6) Accept it, but ban all cameras.
I guess it looks like option 5, but options 1-4 may be implemented until something improves.
Now, all I need to do is find an exercise plan that doesn’t cost any money and I can do in my sleep (as that’s my free time) and an eating plan that doesn’t make me want to rip people’s heads off.
Or become best buddies with the world’s best corsetiere and ban all photography from the neck down.