Boobs!

Hi. Breasts. Boobies. Bosoms. Yep, today's rant is about ladies bits. More specifically, my ladies bits. I haven't been boxing now for two months. Admittedly mostly down due to sheer laziness but also the fact that last time I sparred I got punched by a 15 stone Irish bloke - yeah - I know you could knock me out - twat - no need to try and prove it. Luckily I got a swipe in before going dizzy and almost hitting the floor (pride remains intact at least) but it has taken me time to get my butt back into gear to get in the ring again.

Still eating the boxer sized meals that I so enjoy, I have put on weight. And, when I put on weight, it mostly goes on north of my waist. In the last few weeks/months so many folk have asked if I have had some "work" done, which means plastic surgery. The only plastic that goes near my body is the patent wearable variety. Not the type of thing I would ever contemplate, jeez, I mean, I faint when I have blood taken - you think I'm letting someone slice me up?? Nah, it aint gonna happen, I'll be growing old gracefully. Well, if I spend my life living as a disgrace then why not have a change at some point.

Anyways. It isn't all smiles at this end - "phwooar bloke" jokes aside - these babies are not an easy task you know. You try housing two melon sized balls in your pants, bet you wouldn't like it!..... Running, dressing and having serious conversations with people aren't easy. My last trip to "Bravissimo" ended in tears. GG's were bad enough, but my newfound size was a horrid, horrid shock. So, unfit as I am, it's back to training for me. I start this evening, so if you don't hear from me for a while it's because it, or the Irish git has killed me.

Ok, enough. I'm off now on a shoot out of London until Saturday, until then, XXxx