Bow Belles
Corny title I know.
The audience at Bow Jongleurs last night included a table of gals who had really gone to town...all tanned limbs, killer heels, slinky frocks, straightened hair and glamourous make-up. It was like a WAG convention! They looked fabulous.
Whatever size I've been in my life, I've never been one of those girls who could walk in 5 inch heels, or who's make-up stayed put all night no matter what I did. Hell I barely ever wear anything white cos I just cannot keep it clean (as witnessed when my Johnson's Holiday Skin tansferred itself from my body to my white broderie anglaise top during a torrential downpour in Hong Kong recently!). It looked like I'd spilt a cup of strong builders' tea down myself!
I have noticed that as I shed the pounds my wardrobe does become brighter, and more girly. When I'm big my entire closet looks like a funeral director's. Apart from the obvious reason that darker clothes do make you look smaller - tho when you're close to 20 stones nothing is that miraculous! - I think its cos I wanted to fade away into the background and not draw any more attention to myself than is necessary. Whereas when I am smaller and feel more confident, I'm happy to stand out in bright colours. I guess there's also that thing of not wanting to look like your great aunt's overstuffed chinz sofa when you're big too.
It's a really odd sensation but I've noticed that when you're big people don't see you, they just see the "bigness". As I've now lost close to 100lbs, I am very aware that men and women see "me". On the tube to the gig the other night a woman got on and did that really obvious checking me out from top to bottom thing. I cannot remember the last time someone did that, it sure never happened when I was mahoosive!
I love being able to shop in regular shops (especially Primark!) and to be able to wear girly clothes. My one sticking point is the heels. My sense of balance isn't brilliant - I can't even ride a bike for instance - but I find myself gazing longingly at wedges, platforms and good old-fashioned 'fuck me' pumps, wishing I could wear them instead of my usual flatties or trainers. I tried a pair on the other day and got bleedin' vertigo!
I remember back in the 80's wearing a pair of 4" heels with my fake Chanel suit and looking amazing. I was working at the Standard and was a proper 'yuppie' my salary did indeed exceed my years, which was the criteria apparently. I went drinking with some friends to the much missed Zanzibar club in Covent Garden. For probably the only time in my life I was one of those girls who looked immaculate.
The vodka definitely helped me walk in the shoes as I was more relaxed, until we left the Zanzibar and headed off to the Cafe de Paris that is. The doorman waved us through and we walked into the club. I remember standing at the top of those sweeping stairs feeling fabulous. The next thing I remember is being on my ass at the bottom of the stairs cos those bloody heels had let me down! That was about 1984 and that was the last time I went out in anything higher than a pair of Nike Air Max.
I have three pairs of high heels in the cupboard, including a gorgeous silver pair that make me feel like Shirley Maclaine in Sweet Charity, but if you look at the soles of all of them, you'll see they're as smooth and unblemished as a ladyboy's ass. Over the years the only time they've been worn is for sex. As I'm still not doing sex at the moment, the poor things lie dejected in the bottom of the wardrobe. Perhaps I need a man in my life, if not for shagging then at least he could prop me up when I go out in the heels and stop me from falling over!
Anyway, onto the gigs. We had two cracking nights at Bow, the bill was really strong, the fantastic Kojo who just gets stronger and slicker every time I see him, the wonderful Richard Morton, the fabulous Alastair Barrie sporting the bushiest and gingerest of beards (it's for a play he says, but secretly I think he likes having something furry on his face to stroke) and the always inspirational Tom Stade who was just magnificent this weekend. It was a joy as MC to bring people of this standard onstage, no fear of anyone 'bottling it 'and not doing their time, no fear of having a pile of crap onstage to clear up, just two great nights of comedy for everyone.
Cheers lads.
The audience at Bow Jongleurs last night included a table of gals who had really gone to town...all tanned limbs, killer heels, slinky frocks, straightened hair and glamourous make-up. It was like a WAG convention! They looked fabulous.
Whatever size I've been in my life, I've never been one of those girls who could walk in 5 inch heels, or who's make-up stayed put all night no matter what I did. Hell I barely ever wear anything white cos I just cannot keep it clean (as witnessed when my Johnson's Holiday Skin tansferred itself from my body to my white broderie anglaise top during a torrential downpour in Hong Kong recently!). It looked like I'd spilt a cup of strong builders' tea down myself!
I have noticed that as I shed the pounds my wardrobe does become brighter, and more girly. When I'm big my entire closet looks like a funeral director's. Apart from the obvious reason that darker clothes do make you look smaller - tho when you're close to 20 stones nothing is that miraculous! - I think its cos I wanted to fade away into the background and not draw any more attention to myself than is necessary. Whereas when I am smaller and feel more confident, I'm happy to stand out in bright colours. I guess there's also that thing of not wanting to look like your great aunt's overstuffed chinz sofa when you're big too.
It's a really odd sensation but I've noticed that when you're big people don't see you, they just see the "bigness". As I've now lost close to 100lbs, I am very aware that men and women see "me". On the tube to the gig the other night a woman got on and did that really obvious checking me out from top to bottom thing. I cannot remember the last time someone did that, it sure never happened when I was mahoosive!
I love being able to shop in regular shops (especially Primark!) and to be able to wear girly clothes. My one sticking point is the heels. My sense of balance isn't brilliant - I can't even ride a bike for instance - but I find myself gazing longingly at wedges, platforms and good old-fashioned 'fuck me' pumps, wishing I could wear them instead of my usual flatties or trainers. I tried a pair on the other day and got bleedin' vertigo!
I remember back in the 80's wearing a pair of 4" heels with my fake Chanel suit and looking amazing. I was working at the Standard and was a proper 'yuppie' my salary did indeed exceed my years, which was the criteria apparently. I went drinking with some friends to the much missed Zanzibar club in Covent Garden. For probably the only time in my life I was one of those girls who looked immaculate.
The vodka definitely helped me walk in the shoes as I was more relaxed, until we left the Zanzibar and headed off to the Cafe de Paris that is. The doorman waved us through and we walked into the club. I remember standing at the top of those sweeping stairs feeling fabulous. The next thing I remember is being on my ass at the bottom of the stairs cos those bloody heels had let me down! That was about 1984 and that was the last time I went out in anything higher than a pair of Nike Air Max.
I have three pairs of high heels in the cupboard, including a gorgeous silver pair that make me feel like Shirley Maclaine in Sweet Charity, but if you look at the soles of all of them, you'll see they're as smooth and unblemished as a ladyboy's ass. Over the years the only time they've been worn is for sex. As I'm still not doing sex at the moment, the poor things lie dejected in the bottom of the wardrobe. Perhaps I need a man in my life, if not for shagging then at least he could prop me up when I go out in the heels and stop me from falling over!
Anyway, onto the gigs. We had two cracking nights at Bow, the bill was really strong, the fantastic Kojo who just gets stronger and slicker every time I see him, the wonderful Richard Morton, the fabulous Alastair Barrie sporting the bushiest and gingerest of beards (it's for a play he says, but secretly I think he likes having something furry on his face to stroke) and the always inspirational Tom Stade who was just magnificent this weekend. It was a joy as MC to bring people of this standard onstage, no fear of anyone 'bottling it 'and not doing their time, no fear of having a pile of crap onstage to clear up, just two great nights of comedy for everyone.
Cheers lads.
Labels: Gigs
posted by JoJo Smith at Sunday, July 29, 2007
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