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bear by san

March 2017



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the heartbreak of armpit fat.

I have just discovered the official silliest piece of fatphobia I have ever encountered in my born days.

Apparently, we are all now supposed to be terrified of exposing our unsightly armpit fat.

Based on my admittedly cursory internet research, and exemplified by the image above, I would worry about the health consequences for any woman concerned with armpit fat, because it would suggest that she is not doing her breast self-exam properly. What we see above, in the damning orange circles, is in fact part of the boob. And the problem is that Madam is not wearing a properly-fitting bra, as the one illustrated above is at least two cup sizes too small and one band size too large. The little metal bits (we call them 'underwires') are meant to lie flat against the ribcage, not sit halfway up Mount Doom like the track of a sidehill hoofer.

Why yes, I am supposed to be writing a novel. Why do you ask?

But the patriarchy is in my armpits. Some things just can't wait.


It's rubbish like this that makes me wish I could clone my nearby and excellent bra shop. Huge range of band and cup sizes right there in the store and competent staff who want to put you in a well fitted bra that meets your needs.

The prices- well yes, if I hunt for weeks I can find cheaper bras that sort of fit, are more than a little uncomfortable and wear out in under three months. What a bargain! Not.

Armpit fat. Yeesh. Many years ago I stopped dating a guy who, in remarking on an actress on a magazine cover, said her earlobes were too fat. I was like, dude, if your standards are that high let's not waste each other's time. Never regretted it. Life's too short and awkward dates are too long to spend time with someone who goes all judgey monkey over fat earlobes.
"Sorry, dude. Your head is too fat."