Moobys

Well it seems Cardiff may be getting a Hooters. For those who aren’t aware ‘Hooters’ is an American chain bar/restaurant where all the waitresses look like playboy bunnies and wear very tight t-shirts over their very large boobies. According to the man behind the bar the orange hot pants and low cut tops are a “wholesome, cheerleader look”. So the scantily clad hostesses aren’t meant to titillate men? Bet you’re disappointed eh? 

To be honest, the bar doesn’t bother me. As an ample bosomed girl I welcome the career opportunity (unfortunately as well as ample bosom I happen to possess ample, arse, thighs & belly so on second though, maybe not for me eh!).

Cardiff as a city already has several strip clubs pole dancing clubs, a topless snooker hall and a club that offers ‘Naked Tuesdays’ for your weeknight entertainment, I don’t think Hooters is going to mean much of a moral decline for the city, it’s just a more commercial venture than most.

There was of course a protest at the prospect of the new bar but as far as I can see it consisted of a couple of ladies and a few men who clearly have never seen boobs in the first place. Harsh of me I know but surely they could see their protest wasn’t going to go too well!

If I don’t object you might be wondering why I’m bothering to blog about it. Well, the reason is simple. During a discussion with some friends about the opening we decided that a female alternative to the bar was in order. If hooters can provide some ‘wholesome’ eye candy for the boys, why can’t we have a ‘wholesome’ bar for the ladies?

The problem is though, what exactly is the female alternative to a titty bar?

Topless men? To be fair, you don’t need to go too far out of your way to see that now do you? I walked past some 17 year old reed this morning with his shirt off despite it being 08.00 in the morning and barely ten degrees.

Tight pants? Well it’s an option but really I think some bloke waltzing around with his bulge on display might put me of my dinner. Besides, Cardiff can be a cold city, have a heart.

Generally good looking men? I’d be up for that but as a general rule; women tend not to eat when attractive men are around so as a business venture it’s probably not the best move. Also as my many previous posts on my flurry of crushes suggests, good looking is a very subjective thing.

I do have a solution in my mind however, how about a bar full of men in suits? I have a weakness for sharply dressed men and if their wearing the right aftershave I might well pay good money to have them wait on me. My friend vetoed this idea so I’m guessing it’s not one for all the ladies.

My husband rather gleefully pointed out that technically the female alternative to Hooters would be men with big moobs in tight t-shirts. Somehow that substitution just doesn’t seem fair! I would like to add that during this discussion my husband also decided that to add to the ‘friendly’ atmosphere of the Hooters brand the ladies should rub your tummy for you once you’ve finished your meal. How sweet!

Well it seems I’m at a loss. The men have their Hooters and us poor women can carry on being served by Joe Blogs in his jeans and scruffy shirt. It’s ok though, Joe’s jeans will undoubtedly show of his cute arse and then there’s that little smile of his. Hmm maybe us girlies aren't as hard done by as it first seems.

Not Perfect

This year I’m turning 30 and while I’m not sure I’m there yet, I may someday in the future want one of those baby things as well. I’m getting on a bit now, so these things do need to be considered. Taking all this into consideration I decided a physical overhaul was in order. Tired of looking & feeling like a beached whale every time I enter a clothes shop, I’m seizing the opportunity to find my inner healthy & svelt self.

So over the past few weeks I’ve been slowly changing some things in my life. Nothing too drastic, just subtle easy changes.

First to go was my evening glass of wine. Now I love wine, and having a glass or 2 in the evening set the mood perfectly, however, when you consider 2 glasses of wine has a calorific equivalent of a bag of chips you soon realise it’s not worth it. I wouldn’t sit and eat a bag of chips every night now would I?

Food wise, I’ve eliminated my evening snacking, cutting down portion sizes & limited myself to one takeaway / meal out per week. As well as eating a tonne more fruit & veg I’ve transformed my eating habits.

I’ve also been doing a lot more exercise. Between my burlesque, squash & walking 1.6 miles each way to work every day I’m doing very well on the exercise front thank you very much.

So the other night, feeling, healthy, happy & positive I stepped on the scales only to discover that after all this work I’ve lost . . . 2 pounds. Deflated emotionally (though obviously not physically) I slunk back to the sofa with a glass of wine.

Feely fat, ugly and seriously in need of another bottle I pondered my miniscule weight loss. How? No really, how? I feel better, some of my clothes are bigger on me, I’m doing a lot of good work so why only 2 measly pounds? Now as my very beautiful yet somehow body conscious sister knows, I am the first person to say: “Feck weight, weight means nothing. It’s all about how you feel” but to be honest, if anyone had said that to me at that particular moment, I would have sat on them & shown them just damaging weight is.

The pressure to slim down these days is immense. And while I’m not one to normally bow to peer pressure I do feel it’s time to get myself in order. The big question is how?

There are several women in my work currently who have been championing a new diet. This diet involves not eating AT ALL for several months. While under the guidance of your Dr you are instead given sachets of minerals & supplements that your body requires. Now I don’t know about you but I see not eating as a rather radical option & it doesn’t even bear to think of the flaps of flesh that would be left as a result of such rapid weight loss without exercise. But to these women it’s simply an obvious weight loss option. Sorry, but I draw the line at tricking my body into believing it’s dying!

So, that leaves me with a slow, meandering alternative. Good old diet and exercise. I’m trying to keep positive and most importantly I have vowed NOT to weigh myself during this process. I have also realised that I need to be realistic. My body is what it is and that’s far from perfect. I’m never going to be a size 8 and my body isn’t going to miraculously transform overnight into that of a Pussycat Doll. I will however keep feeling healthier, more energetic and lead a happier, fuller life for, hopefully, longer. Surely to God that’s good enough?

‘This is my body

And it’s fine

It’s where I spend the vast majority of my time

It’s not perfect

But it’s mine’