Due to the nature of Ken’s work, his professional associates and his friends, there has been a flow of fashion models passing through the studio recently. All have been gorgeous. One, let’s call her Barbie, is tall, slight but curvy. Barbie is Ken’s size medium.
Em and I lolled. Em who buys size 10/12, realises that in this sizing system she might be an XL, or even a 2XL. As for me, there are probably not enough X’s in all the world to describe my size.
His size small is small, small widthways, but an old school model 5ft 11ins lengthways. Mere mortals can only stare in wonder when ultra high heels come into play and she stands six and a half foot tall. It’s no good being regretful or jealous. Much of what you see is a gift of genetics, the rest is the easy charm that comes, at least in part, from being internationally mesmerising.
I remember one time in my teens walking across a country pub car park behind my parents. Father was tall, very tall in the saddle, that is to say, he had proportionately short legs. Mother was simply short. I realised then and there that it had never been on the cards for me to have the long legs that I felt should be mine.
Not a chance.
fat tart 