This week I realised an important component in the game of love. It was unexpected (I believe subconsciously known) yet all the same, a nice nod at my selection: size, readers, is a rather important thing.
I’ll rephrase, size is ridiculously important for a number of reasons and including that of bod – not appendage – but body overall.
My Great Love and I possess a number of different features – he has broad shoulders, I narrow; he has hips of thy snake, I of thy Brazilian; his legs are chicken, mine a rather shapely tree. Over arching though, we sit like two peas in a broadly 10-12-shaped pod.
This week, luggage-less in the Biggest of Apples, I have donned the boyfriend look, including and probably not limited to: the boyfriend flannel, the boyfriend tee, the boyfriend jean (rolled over at the waist to ensure a lower-sitting – and fitting – look) and boyfriend duffle. Glamorous I am not, but rather comfortable and well-matched we are.
So here we are, shopping and sight-seeing in alternating shifts, all the while matched like two hapless kids, dressed by a well-intentioned mother: rather ridiculous and maybe kinda cute.
I have previously commented on the (no-longer poor) Jen who has morphed into girl-next-door-with-tattoo-and-dressed-in-black since kicking off with the brilliant cousin of Louis Theroux. Maybe I was too quick to judge and she’s also battling Delta for a trunk or two that have apparently disappeared into thin LA air.