In the scientific interests of mankind and the progression of the human race I gonna have a word with my cosmetic surgeon to see if he can turn this redundant area into a zip-lock pouch. The mathematics are simple – my fat gut can easily be removed with some liposuction and the blubber that is pumped out can be nicely spread over my arse with some kind of medical spatula to even out my hail-damage. The saggy skin left on my belly can then be folded upwards and neatly stitched to craft a fashionable and functional purse.
My new lady pouch will be used to store a spare set of house keys, a couple of beers in case of an emergency and my large stash of pot. Throw in a spare tampon, my mobile phone, a condom on the off-chance that I do actually get laid again in my lifetime plus my lipstick and I think I am just about sorted.When my gut is utterly crammed with stuff I will be able to pretend I am pregnant, thus pilfering seats on trains from people less pregnant than me. Anyone who frowns at me drinking beer and pulling cones when I am with child can fuck off – there are WAY too many do-gooders in the world.
God, I am clever. Feel free to adore me.
