Every Girl's A Little Big Gay For Adele

I just want to jump firmly on the 'OMFG ADELE IS THE BEST THING TO HAPPEN TO POP MUSIC EVER' bandwagon which has been growing in speed since her performance of 'Someone Like You' on Jools Holland in January. One amazing voice and a piano had almost everyone I know in tears and deleting their ex's facebook friendship/mobile number before they did something silly.


I have been listening to 21 on repeat for about three weeks now. I have been watching videos of her on YouTube religiously. I have ranged from finger-snapping 'you-go-girl' outrage at her ex-boyfriend, to weeping inconsolably because, let's face it, if the feisty Cockney singer can have her heart-broken, we're all doomed. As far as I'm concerned, she is not only single-handedly rescuing popular music from the mind-numbing synths and dance-beats filling the Top 40; she is also one of the best female role models to have been overwhelmingly lauded by the public in quite some time. My girl friends love her; my straight male friends fancy her; my gay male friends want to be her best friend. Everything about her is beautiful and real; her sultry voice, which is without fail even better live than recorded; her figure, which is so perfectly womanly; and her shining personality, where she can have an audience in stitches seconds after breaking their hearts with Turning Tables. If Adele has ever been asked to lose weight, I can only assume she belted Chasing Pavements in her accuser's face and they scurried off to a corner to curl up with only their tepid mediocrity to keep them warm at night.


A few months ago, she was the cover girl for Glamour. In her interview, she thanked the editor, Jo Elvin, for being brave enough to put a bigger girl on the cover of Britain's biggest-selling female magazine. What a sad pass to have come to, that such an undeniably talented woman who got where she is through her own entirely natural merits, should have to feel gratitude for being not only accepted as she is, but for being celebrated for it too. Adele does not conform to the media's ideal of a perfect figure, and neither is she attempting to lead a revolution against it. Instead, she is who she is, and we should all follow her example by being happy in ourselves. She is the most prevalent example today that beauty does not have to be skinny; it has to be genuine.


So, next time I catch myself envying a slender figure that I will never naturally attain, I'm going to sing Rolling in the Deep at the top of my lungs. And to anyone who ever tries to make me feel bad: 'you're gonna wish you never had met me.'

Small, Medium or Large: You're Not What You Eat

A few weeks ago I was doing my bi-monthly charity shop scavenge, looking for pretty things expensive people don’t want anymore. Imagine my delight when I happened across a rather sexy little strapless number from Mango, nestled amidst the flowery skirts and baggy cardigans, for the obscene price of £6. I probably took out about four old ladies in my haste to get to the fitting room. Now, this it-would-be-rude-not-to-buy-it dress had been making friends with the size 10 flowery skirts. It said ‘10’ on the hanger. I was already mentally breathing in in preparation for attempting to wriggle into it. To even the most clueless, unfashionable male in the world, it was blatantly made for size 10-12s.

So I was pretty pissed off that some volunteer had scribbled ‘Large’ on the charity-shop label. ‘Grumble grumble 12 isn’t large grumble grumble how dare they etc etc’ I muttered as I yanked it over my hips and tensed every muscle in my stomach. But it wasn’t a confused elderly shop lady who’d had the audacity to deem anyone wearing this dress as Large – it was flipping Mango. And do you know what? The sodding thing was too small.

On what planet is a dress which is too tight for a size 12 a Large? Obviously one where the magazine industry and the clothing industry go hand-in-hand. When we’re all supposed to applaud Cosmo’s bravery for using a size 14 model, as if such a lady is an abnormal sight, it’s no surprise the not-tiny amongst us are made to feel like lepers. Also, let me explain the dimensions of this dress – it was nipped in like piano-wire at the waist, then ballooned out in Barbie-esque proportions at the chest. If I had the mammaries required to sufficiently fill it out, I’d have a hunchback that would make Quasimodo look like a steel pole. Unless Katie Price bought every single one, I don’t quite know who Mango thought their target audience was. The only person I can imagine designing a dress that way would presumably have had his most intimate female experiences with a blow-up doll, but I’m sure Mango has a ‘no-creep’ policy as stringent as their ‘no-carrying-a-little-bit-of-weight-girls’.

Madness. And it’s the same in so many high-street stores. The day I find something in Zara that’s made for women who don’t go straight up-and-down will be the day cellulite makes it onto the front cover of Cosmopolitan. Only good old Marks and Spencer is doing its bit for the self-confidence of the women of Britain – I’m quite a comfortable size 10 in my crisp Markies shirt. So if every other high street store could stop silently reproaching me with passive-aggressive sizing, that would be fine. I'll start holding my breath...now.

There Are No 'Curvy' Women, And No 'Skinny' Women...

...but there are women.

My relationship with Cosmopolitan is how I imagine most women feel about their mothers. You love them and their readily available font of wisdom earned through years of experience; occasionally you value their honest opinion which no one else could offer and survive. Quite often, however, you wish that instead of tactlessly delivering 'constructive criticism', they would just stop talking and let you wear what you want. Today I had a small apoplectic fit. Unfortunately, I was home alone and had no one to share my outrage with. Hurrah for the internet.

I am an incongruously avid Cosmo reader. My loathing for 'fashion' (ponchos were the worst. Thank god that trend went and died quietly in a corner) and the student bank balance which forbids me from even entertaining the thought of buying the shiny things within its hallowed pages make it a thoroughly redundant read. But I'm a visual magpie, and I want to look at pretty things. What I do not want, and I'd say it's on a par with how much I don't want, say, AIDs, is to be told that I'm not a size 8 and should therefore feel a bit cheeky thumbing through the Beauty Bible For Fun Fearless Females with my size 12 sausage fingers.

Let me direct you to the source of my current indignation; nay, ire; nay, extreme irrational anger. August 2011. Rihanna's on the front, looking all sexy. Good for her. To the left of her toned stomach is the headline:

'Shakin' that ass! Hot pants, minis and skinny jeans curvy girls were born to wear'.

Heaven forfend - could it be?! A whole NINE pages of a 230 page magazine entirely dedicated to the vast majority of Cosmo's British readership. Nine! Good gracious, do stop spoiling us. The photoshoot is entitled ' YES YOU CAN: Sexy size 14 and first-time model, Lily shows you how to work your curves in this season's staples...' It's quite the relief, as I for one was getting worried I wouldn't be able to suit my hips to my summer wardrobe. Helpfully, Cosmo begins each tagline for Lily's various outfits with 'YES YOU CAN...wear a...'.
Example: 'YES YOU CAN...wear a strapless jumpsuit. Look for built-in support, and add a contrasting, waist-cinching belt.' CINCH that waist, ladies, and cinch it hard. (For the record, no one looks good in a jumpsuit. If you're not in nursery, please stop wearing it. Now.) My personal favourite, however, is 'YES YOU CAN...rock a pair of hot pants'. Gee, really?? Thank goodness I can throw out that ankle-length woollen skirt I've been wearing since May and crack out my legs with Cosmo's permission. And who knew that I CAN wear '...sheer off-the-shoulder smocks. Just add in a fantastic shapewear bandeau body dress to keep you in control'. Well, my breasts are wont to get drunk and dance on tables when I take them out in off-the-shoulder smocks and don't tell them to behave.





Perhaps the most tactless part of the article (and there were many points competing for the Number One spot) is its situation within the magazine. Spokeswoman for The Curvy Women of Britain, Lily with her hips, is juxta-posed with whippet-thin Jessica Lowndes, star of the next photo-spread. Not for Jessica the patronising reassurance that she can pull off the outfits she's pictured in, oh no. Jessica's taglines include 'Taking a stroll down Portobello Road in ASOS', and 'Chatting with a busker in French Connection'. Moral of the story; naturally (and fashionably) skinny girls get to look cool in London, whilst I get to give my wobbly bits a severe talking to when they get out of hand under my smock.


Don't misunderstand me - Jessica Lowndes is beautiful, and she looks gorgeous in all the pictures. But we shouldn't be expected to express surprise that size 14 Lily looks just as beautiful. And no, I will never look good in a floral maxi-dress  like Miss Lowndes, because I'm 5'4" and would look like I'd gotten confused about the function of a camping tent. But I'm willing to bet my size 12 ass I could give her a run for her money in my denim hot pants.