Good God Deity, no wonder the mainstream media is suffering. Whether or not William Hague (a) cheated on his wife with a man; or (b) showed ‘poor judgement’ by sharing a hotel room with an aide, they clearly have nothing more useful to do, like report real news.
If he cheated he needs to answer to his wife, not us. Who knows why he shared a hotel room? Who fucking cares? The media is intimating that if he wanted to save money for the election campaign he was wrong because he’s rich and should have splashed out on his own room, but I’m sure if he had the news would be that he’s a complete toff and can’t relate to the rest of us because he can’t even share a room for a night.
I wouldn’t say I’m particularly proud of being flat-chested, it’s just the way I am. But it is nice to be able to find nice bras that fit and aren’t ridiculously padded like they are in Singapore.
(I’m a UK 6 and do you know how bloody hard it is to find nice clothing in the UK where the average female size is 14? Some places don’t even stock anything smaller than a 10, for fuck’s sake. This may explain why I’ve latched onto All Saints, Urban Outfitters, and H&M.)
It’s probably pained my mother (slightly) for years that I am not only flat-chested but also still not very feminine. I still get mistaken for a bloke — most recently, this weekend just gone.
Sorry, Neil, everyone thinks you bat for the other team.
Anyway. H&M makes decent underwear in my size but it’s not always in stock. I’m also as picky about my undergarments as I am about the clothes I wear over them, so no one should ever be forced to go shopping with me. Unless it’s a sociological experiment or they’re Gok Wan. I fantasise about him trying to give me a new look and me rejecting 90% of his suggested ‘capsule wardrobe’ and makeover ideas, saying, “I don’t wear pink / pastels / lace / waist belts / maxi anything / frills / ruffles / fur / sequins / stiletto heels / nail polish.”