On my soapbox

Ok, so underneath this weak, lily-livered     mild mannered, placid  facade there roars an angry lion. No I am not kidding, and no, thats not the funny part of my blog. I usually cruise along through life with my little feathers unruffled and quite happy. But sometimes something will annoy me. Perhaps annoy is too weak a word. Something will downright peeve me off to the max (I wont swear- my mum reads this!) And when something downright peeves me off, you had better look out if you are the one that causes it. Not many people have seen me in full on peeved mode, but those that have, and lived to tell the tale, will back me up on this. I am like a raging inferno. So if you annoy me, you had better be wearing your inflammable undies that day!
Last night at my weight watchers meeting, i was sitting with a newly made friend and her very gorgeous little bub. We were happily listening away to the leader talking about the new changes to the program (this in itself caused some little sparks i can tell you) when a woman from behind leans over and taps my friend on the shoulder. "How old is your little boy" she asks. I am thinking, oh how lovely. Friend replies "6 months" Lady continues "I have a 6 month old too. Yours is so much bigger than mine, he is a big one isnt he"  Conversation closed. W........T.........F (using the initials is not swearing) and O...M...G.  How freaking rude! 
And so we come to me being on my soap box. I absolutely hate when people comment on the size of another persons child- in a negative way.  I talked to the friend about it on our way out and she was visibly upset. She said she often gets comments on how big her children are. Now when i saw this little boy, I didnt notice his size, I notice how he had a smile that spread across his whole face and lit up the room. I noticed how happy he was even though it was late afternoon. The rudeness of the offending lady made my blood boil. I seriously wanted to round house kick her in the head- Chuck Norris style.
We spend so much of our lives being told what is the perfect body shape,  Surely we can spare young children and babies the constant commentary and criticisms of their little developing bodies. I realise that obesity is a major concern and I also know how cruel kids can be towards overweight kids. But come on, my friends children are 6 months and 2.5. Who knows how their shape will change as they grow older.  When I first started swimming lessons with Elijah, there was another little boy who joined not long after. He was a couple months younger than the other kids but was quite a bit bigger. 2 other mothers actually said to this little boys mother "Oh my god he is so huge!" and this was often. The poor mum kind of laughed it off and agreed "yeah he is a big boy" but beneath it you could see it happned to her often and she didnt like it at all. So one day, having had enough i said to her "gee your son.." and I could almost see her bracing herself for the inevitable "has the most beautiful smile" and she then gave me her own beautiful smile.
So I have decided that if anyone comments to me in a negative way about Elijahs size (who is very average, sits in the 50th percentile for weight, but is quite tall, my reply will be simple. I will smile and say "You know your right. Thanks for so kindly pointing out that my child is part elephant. We constantly encourage anorexia in our house, but 2 years olds... so stubborn!"  and then i will round house kick them in the head

She died with her granny pants on

I have a secret fear- one that is about to be revealed for the first time ever for public consumption. I fear dying wearing bad undies. There its out. I feel so much better. Obviously death is not an appealing thought for anyone, but dying whilst wearing dodgy undies makes it that much worse (Yes I am THAT shallow) .
Today whilst driving home in my new dress (yes the Target slogan won) and my super huge granny pants on (a pair of pre-weight loss body shaping wonders i found in a cupboard clean out last week - SCORE!) I envisaged the following scenario.
Insert horrific incident of choice that renders me unconscious and in dire need of emergency help. Ambos arrive on scene and see i need resuscitation and quite possibly defibrillation. Start to cut away dress (in reality that would rouse me from the deepest of comas!) but in my fantasy I remain unconscious. Next minute loud and raucous laughter fills the air. Onlookers are astounded as i am hovering on deaths door. "bahahahahahahahahahahahahah, check out the pants on this chick mate" says ambo 1 to ambo 2
"They could double as a parachute! A herd of elephants could stand under these babies for shelter!  She would cause a solar eclipse when she hangs these bad boys on the line! They seriously come up to her bra. You really must check them out"   Meanwhile I am fading further away as the ambos are rolling on the ground laughing at my offending underwear.
"We need back up, man down! man down! " says ambo 2 as ambo 1 begins choking from laughing so much.  I can see the incident report they will write upon my untimely death.
"Patient could have been saved had life saving resuscitation taken place quicker. Ambo 1 also could have  administered above mentioned resus had he not died laughing at the patients unfortunate choice of underwear Diagnosis: death from 'pantius  maximus'"
My headstone would read " Here lies Angie, she died with her granny pants on"  I think i will throw those pants away now