Day Eighty to Day Eighty Two: Otto Titsling

Dear David,

It's official. I no longer have breasts. I now have HOOTERS. Having bought bras recently that were giving me the rather unfortunate '4 boob' effect, a colleague recommended I go to Bravissimo in Glasgow to be properly fitted for a bra. I went today. I arrived a 38D and I left a 34F. I giggled from Ingram Street to Rogano, in Royal Exchange Square. I laughed so loudly, a man stopped to ask me if someone had told me a good joke. I giggled while I had oysters and a virgin mary and I have not stopped laughing since. I cannot get the scene from Beaches out of my head where Bette Midler does the song about Otto Titsling. I actually now own a tit hammock.

I had big plans today to clean, work and exercise but shopping prevailed. I worked a little yesterday, pouring over some very boring policy statements from the FSA. I was up late on Saturday and I went into Glasgow for a while. I cleaned in the evening but really ended up making more of a mess. I went out on Friday night and was terribly bad. I drank and I had chicken pakora. I still was the token sober one as I didn't put that much away but we had ended up the in shittest club I think I have ever been in. Boho, across the road from Kelvingrove Art Gallery, is truly the most shit club on the face of the earth. It drove me to drink, it truly did. The women were faked tanned, faked eyelashes, hooker shoes and glitter. The men were tight pin striped trousers, brothel creepers, fitted shirts and preened hair. The music was crap, the floor was sticky and the dance floor lit up.

I am also blaming Boho (now named BooHoo) for the chicken pakora that I ate after we came out of the place. Stood in the street, horsing it, before my taxi came. Ragdster got a little virtrolic with FiFi and there was some storming off and drama. I am too old for this kind of shite. I watched like a bemused spectator, ate my pakora and then came home. I crept into bed and, for the first time in I don't know how long, I did not take my make-up off and woke up on Saturday like something from Tales from the Crypt. Nice.

I went for a run on Saturday to remediate for the drinking/eating on Friday and it was a great run. I really enjoyed it. I have not gained anything this weekend and it is not for the want of being bad. I really need to focus - I am still a big fat beast. I am enjoying being a couple of sizes smaller and I think I am resting on my laurels a little.

I will leave you with the lyrics from Otto Titsling. I implore you to watch it - it's too funny for words! Me and my hooters are off to bed.

Otto Titsling, inventor and kraut,
had nothing to get very worked up about.
His inventions were failures, his future seemed bleak.
He fled to the opera at least twice a week.

One night at the opera he saw an Aida
who's tits were so big they would often impede her.
Bug-eyed he watched her fall into the pit,
done in by the weight of those terrible tits.

Oh, my god! There she blows!
Aerodynamically this bitch was a mess.
Otto eyeballed the diva lying comatose amongst the reeds,
and he suddenly felt the fire of inspiration
flood his soul. He knew what he had to do!
He ran back to his workshop
where he futzed and futzed and futzed.

For Otto Titsling had found his quest:
to lift and mold the female breast;
to point the small ones to the sky;
to keep the big ones high and dry!

Every night he'd sweat and snort
searching for the right support.
He tried some string and paper clips.
Hey! He even tried his own two lips!

Well, he stitched and he slaved
and he slaved and he stitched
until finally one night, in the wee hours of morning,
Otto arose from his workbench triumphant.
Yes! He had invented the worlds first
over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder. Hooray!

Exhausted but ecstatic he ran
down the street to the diva's house
bearing the prototype in his hot little hand.
Now, the diva did not want to try the darn thing on.
But, after many initial misgivings,
she finally did.
And the sigh of relief that issued forth
from the diva's mouth
was so loud that it was mistaken by some
to be the early onset of the Siroccan Winds
which would often roll through the Schwarzwald
with a vengeance!
Ahhhhh-i!

But little did Otto know,
at the moment of his greatest triumph,
lurking under the diva's bed
was none other than the very worst
of the French patent thieves,
Philippe DeBrassiere.
And Phil was watching the scene
with a great deal of interest!

Later that night, while our Brun Hilda slept,
into the wardrobe Philippe softly crept.
He fumbled through knickers and corsets galore,
'til he found Otto's titsling and he ran out the door.

Crying, "Oh, my god! What joy! What bliss!
I'm gonna make me a million from this!
Every woman in the world will wanna buy one.
I can have all the goods manufactured in Taiwan."

"Oh, thank you!"

The result of this swindle is pointedly clear:
Do you buy a titsling or do you buy a brassiere?

Kikicee


Friday

Food: protein shake (Vanilla), egg white omelette mid-morning, protein shake (Vanilla) for lunch, wee can of tuna and 2 tablespoons of sugar free peanut butter for late-afternoon snack, protein shake (Vanilla) for lunch + chicken pakora after the pub....I had 3 shots of tequila and a vodka.....

Supplements: Thermobubbles, Vitamin Superjuice (Raspberry), Flush and Cleanse, Hoodia

Exercise: NONE

Saturday

Food: protein shake (Vanilla), egg white omelette mid-morning, protein shake (Vanilla) for lunch, wee can of tuna and 2 tablespoons of sugar free peanut butter for late-afternoon snack, turkey and red peppers for dinner


Supplements: Thermobubbles, Vitamin Superjuice (Raspberry), Flush and Cleanse, Hoodia

Exercise: RUNNING - 40 mins


Sunday

Food: protein shake (Vanilla), egg white omelette mid-morning, protein shake (Vanilla) for lunch,  6 oysters and a virgin Mary, protein shake (Vanilla) for lunch, turkey and spinach for dinner

Supplements: Thermobubbles, Vitamin Superjuice (Raspberry), Flush and Cleanse, Hoodia

Exercise: NONE