…and comes out with a soggy nappy, I’m constantly pulling up my jeans and falling about the place prompting fits of laughter from family & friends alike. It appears the jump from size 14 to 12 jeans is a no go zone if you have a derriere of any description! They fit perfectly on the waist if only they’d find their way over my blinking bum.
Becoming a stick insect isn’t an option, and as for not wearing jeans, just don’t go there. A friend pointed this out to me last night, their train of thought was that it would appeal to my regressive Irish Farmer gene and could be the solution to my problem. It really goes along the no pain no gain route rather nicely, I’ve put in an order for a Matchbox Tractor and now looking for a yoga expert to help me in my quest, NOT!
Hell on Earth... 