I hope by now you will have noticed the recurring theme running through January’s posts that all pay tribute to the fact that January is easily the most horribly depressing fucker that ever existed. Also, The Thinking Gal is a year old this month, so I’m celebrating by being extra sour and trying not to shoot myself in the face, so that’s also why my posts are super cheerful these days.
Anyway, January is traditionally renound as a lean, healthy month where we all try our best to shed those Christmas pounds, resolve to become better versions of ourselves (denial) and prepare for the year ahead. In terms of fashion, we’re talking heavy, natural fabrics in blacks and browns in an attempt to keep warm whilst similtaneously hiding the fact that you ate like a greedy fucker over the Christmas holidays, even whilst watching the Oxfam advertisement (basically just a clipshow of starving children), without even so much as taking the wrappers off the Quality Street sweets first.
So how does one hide their festive bulge whilst maintaining fashionista status during this cold, Winter month? Here’s how:
Cloak of Invisibility
Throwing on a Cloak of Invisibility, or a Jimmy Saville Raincoat as it is known to those in senior positions within the BBC during the 1960s to the present day, helps you to look fabulous in a heartbeat because being invisible means no-one can see how fat you are. Dress it up, dress it down- it doesn’t matter because you’ll be invisible. And beyond being a high-fashion garment within the cartoon community, a Cloak of Invisibility has many practical uses, such as helping you stalk without consequence, providing a medium via which you can shoplift effectively and- best of all- commiting untraceable murder. Farewell, midnight police raids! So long, warrant for your arrest! And so on.
Spanx The Monkey
Considering how fat I am, I like to layer my Spanx on top of each other so that all possible flab is contained within those mummified layers. Spanx, for those of you who are are unfamiliar with the phenomenon, are basically extra-strength American Tan tights with a special ingredient- self-loathing- that hold in your muffin top to ensure that women, no matter how much gender equality evolves, will always have it in the back of their minds that they’re not as good as men, who wouldn’t dream of wearing such a thing just to appear attractive to the opposite sex. For fuck’s sake. As I was saying, layering your Spanx so that your hideousness is contained ensures that your arms and legs look disproportionately large compared to the rest of your body, which is brilliant because you then get to make up bullshit excuses for your abnormal appearance, such as that you are a part-time wrestler, all the while knowing that people are calling you a ‘weirdo’ behind your back.
With a Moo Moo here, A Moo Moo there, Here a Moo, There A Moo… Etc.
Moo Moos, like the one Homer Simpson wore in the episode of The Simpsons when he deliberately puts on weight so he could work from home, are not only the hottest garment among the ‘over 55 female Traveller Community’ (such a stylish bunch), but are also deceptively cosy, drawing heat from your inner thighs as they rub together while you walk from your mobility scooter to your bed to illustrate you immobility to someone slightly less fat than you while filming for Channel 4’s Supersize v Superskinny. Moo Moos come in an array of unflattering Hawaiian prints, and are guaranteed to grab attention from your local news station the next time they are secretly filming members of the public as part of a Polyfiller-style piece on obesity to fill up the news slot on a slow news day. Expect to see your muffin top featured, you trendsetter, you!
A Great Pair of Heels
‘I like my men like I like my heels- tall, black and the most coveted accessory in the room,’ said Marilyn Monroe. No, she didn’t, I just made that up, but that’s exactly the sort of shit that clutters up my Facebook wall like a turd that just won’t flush. I personally spend my days trudging around in a pair of sodden Converse like the downtrodden bastard that I am, but women who wear heels as part of an everyday routine terrify me. For one, their arses must be made of steel, and they would definately win in a staring contest because the rest of us can’t look them in the eye. But for 2013, why not carry a pair of heels around in a carrier bag? If anyone points at your regular shoes and tells you they aren’t feminine enough, you can whip your heels out and beat them around the head with the pointy bit for a while, because that looks mighty fucking satisfying.
I Saw the Sign
If all of the above don’t help you to feel slimmer and more beautiful, then there’s something fucking wrong with you. However, I have one last trick up my sleeve for banishing those January blues- a big massive sign with the words ‘Fuck off and leave me alone’ painted on it with your own blood. No-one is going to say shit about you when you’re carrying that around. Of course, ‘Fuck off and leave me alone’ is optional (your own blood isn’t)- you can write whatever the fuck you want as long as it a) makes you look like a irrational mentalcase capable of GBH and b) is hilarious and endearing. Other suggestions include, ‘It doesn’t matter what you think. Does it?’, ‘Please like me’ and ‘I may be ugly but I can make a cracking roast dinner and therefore, can be your live-in girlfriend who hides in the cupboard when you have company round. Just tell me you’ll think about it’. Remember: in order to pull of wearing a sign, you may need extra accessories to achieve you desired look, such as a portable CD player playing Christina Aguilera’s Beautiful on loop, a knife or a dead cat strapped into one of those contraptions that smug bastards carry their embarrassed babies around in.
Rock on, fashionistas. Etc.