By Karen Fenessey
I really believe it’s a wonderful thing that I can look around our British streets and see so many different walks of life being not only tolerated, but encouraged. The whites walk alongside the blacks, the rich with the poor, and the gays with the normal.
At the weekend, I happened upon the latest special needs group to join our society after my sister dragged me out to her favourite new store, Curvalicious. Perhaps you guessed by the name that the group of which I speak are the obese. But should we really be indulging our enormous friends the way we are?
I suppose it’s no bad thing that the discovery of an outsize bra and pant store has given my stupid and lazy sister the kick up the arse she needed to get off the couch and remove her gigantic paw from her bumper packs of Wotsits. She hasn’t really left the house on her own since her divorce a few years ago, so I certainly feel a boulder lift from my shoulder now that I don’t have to do charity missions with her to my favourite designer boutiques (because, I’m sorry to say, she was becoming an embarrassment!).
I felt distinctly uncomfortable in Curvalicious as my sister wobbled around the rails. I swear that from the minute I entered the shop, I received threatening looks from every woman there. I can only attribute this to their jealousy of my catwalk model proportions, but I refrained from involving the police because I really pitied their desperate situations. There was only one couple present and it may surprise you to learn that the man wasn’t even fat. In fact, he was rather petite, which somehow just made it all the more wrong. Needless to say, she dragged him to the exit as soon as I walked in: it must have been so difficult for her to see her man desiring a woman as exemplary as myself. If I could change things, I would, but there’s only so much I can do to improve our world – I am just one woman.
So my sister wound up buying a size double H bra – and that wasn’t even the largest available. The sizes went up to a double J. In my opinion that is halfway up the alphabet and practically unfathomable. My sister’s doctor claims her monstrousness is down to depression, but this is bogus. I suffer from severe depression on a regular basis because of my stressful work with primary school children and their disgusting parents, yet I am not the size of a house.
I can fully condone that our society supports minority groups, but I feel I must lay down some boundaries. After all, it’s not the ritual demolition of KFC buckets and flagons of Tennants Super that make Muslims the way they are: it’s Al Qaeida. The obese don’t have that excuse and I just cannot see how it is in any way constructive to cause them to enjoy taking their clothes off. Can’t the bosses of Curvalicious see they are only increasing the likelihood of these people breeding, and thus exacerbating the problem? I won’t be able to walk down the street without being eyeballed by heifers and desired by their bizarre companions. It will be a LIVING HELL. Retailers need to think about this before they do any more damage.