Like a *few* other people around the country, I have
found myself watching I’m A Celebrity these
past few weeks. Random celebrities thrust together in a make believe jungle
with no phones, no make up and no PR people on hand to stop them from telling
all and/or being an arsehole – what’s not to love? (Though, to be fair, this
year the only aresholes have been the pig anuses they’ve been made to
eat).
But the biggest surprise for me this series, apart from the fleeting
fanny-flutter crush I developed out of the blue for Nick Knowles (its okay,
I’ve recovered my senses) – the biggest surprise has been Holly Willoughby’s
legs.
What wonderful things they are. I’ve become quite obsessed with them.
Long and lean and tanned and even-toned - legs that manage to look amazing even
in durable, hard-arse boots. They’re not too skinny, they’re not too muscular
try-hard gym-like - they are, like Goldilocks's eventual porridge, just right.
I went through some kind of seven stages of leg admiration
– starting off with surprise (Wow, I
never realised she had such good legs!), then appreciation (What fine legs they are!) and then I got
to envy and it all turned sour. I WISH I
had legs like that. What can I do to get legs like that? Go to the gym? Get a
tan? I want to rock a mini-skirt and chunky boot combo! I NEED LEGS LIKE THOSE!
Truth is, after much cog-turning, I realised I can never have legs like
those.
I am 5 foot 1 ½ (the half is V important when you’re working on this
level), I am covered in moles and I have knock knees. So unless I want to
Kardashian the shit out of my legs and spend a serious amount of time on a
stretching rack of some kind, they will never look like that. I started
resenting the legs - they were taunting me, in all their perfectness through the
screen. Damn legs. How can some people have legs like that and some of us so
not. Where’s the fair in that?
Finally though, I have reached acceptance, cos, you know, what else can
you do? I will never have legs like that, fact. BUT I have pretty decent ears
and my feet are nice and small and I make a mean beef casserole. And, let’s be
honest, making a good casserole is way more helpful than having good legs.
You never know, Holly might look at some part of
someone else and admire/appreciate/envy it, wish that that part of her body was
more like that – (though maybe not with quite as much vigour as I have
done here). Maybe she loves her legs but
wishes her casserole skills were better?
Any way, my point is, we all have bits about ourselves that are not quite as
we wish they would be, but we all have other bits of ourselves that are pretty
bloody awesome to make up for it.
So me and my short, knock-kneed legs and decent ears are off to make an
amazing casserole to eat while watching I’m
A Celeb tonight.
