Why I will never diet for 30 years for anyone. A response to something I shouldn’t have read.

Oh Samantha Brick, you did it again, well done. You made me click on a Daily Mail link, even though I detest that paper and refuse to boost it’s circulation. I saw your smug face peeping out at me via Facebook link and I was lost. Perhaps it was your unstoppable sexual magnetism that drew me in, perhaps that as a heterosexual woman, I am not immune to your ravishing beauty. I clicked and was instantly caught up in your loquacious wordsmithery, factual reasoning and sparkling wit. What consumer of responsible journalism could refuse the opportunity to hear your honeyed prose drip seductively across the page like nectar?  I supposed that in the very act of clicking on that link, I have become part of the problem. If you didn’t write this shit, I wouldn’t get this angry.

 

I suppose that, after the last couple of things you wrote, I should not be surprised. Content aside your writing  is, at best, GCSE level. I have no doubt that if you turned your talents to writing personal ads, then your true calling would be at last clear to you. Instead, I am sad to see that you are just talking about you again. You, You, You. It’s all about YOUR (quite frankly mental) relationship with food, YOUR strange, moustachioed Gallic Husband and his outmoded views, and YOUR enormous, over inflated, caricature of an ego.  It is an indescribable pity to me that so many writers go unpublished, whilst you are given free reign to play at being a controversy-craving hack. One who in one fell swoop, manages to come across with about as much joie-de-vivre as a breeze block- the irony!

 

They say that the pen is mightier than the sword, which is just as well, as it would seem that poor, feeble, starving Samantha Brick, with her osteoporosis-willing diet of polo mints, does not present herself as a women with the ability to heft any weight at all. Least of all, the weight that is required to possess any journalistic gravitas.

Do the people responsible for this sort of article in the (Fe)mail really hate women that much? They certainly seem to, why not call the supplement “Hate” Mail and be done with it>  I suppose the true irony is that this paper will counter this with a headline that screams how teenage girls starve themselves to be like Kate Moss.. repeat to fade, yawn… order me a Pizza etc.

 

I imagine Brick, poor “I am on a constant diet” Samantha Brick, with her sensible (crazy) eating habits, penchant for breadless bagels and whatever other nonsense she defecates onto the page is nothing more than a little dim and just a teensy bit joyless. Samantha, in her infinite wisdom- “I even rented a house without a Kitchen!!”  does not strike me as a woman with a lot of good friends to call her out on her egotistical ways. The sort of woman, who greets gifts of chocolate with contempt, comes across as the kind of woman who will never fully enjoy any of life’s pleasures. Whilst it may be true that men prefer slimmer Women, it is also true that Men, (and indeed any sane person of either gender) also value the qualities of spontaneity, joy and gusto… At the risk of sounding crude here, any woman who hollows out a bagel and fills it with salad, comes across as a stone cold fish. I certainly would be interested to meet the sort of man who would actively seek carnal relations with;  and let me put this bluntly, a woman who is not only batshit mental, but does not seem to have a solid grip on nutrition. Women like this strike me as totally unfuckable, not least because her pelvis would probably shatter. It is hard to get on board with a person who seems so utterly opposed to fun. The legacy of 30 years of self loathing restriction, delusion and denial might give Samantha Brick a (average) size 12 body but it will not provide her with those amazing qualities that people who choose functional relationships with food possess.

 

I suppose what irks me the most about this irresponsible piece of tripe is that surely Brick, with her “Lovely Looks” and hordes of admirers, limping to her door under the strain of massive erections, should presumably not need the help of a diet to boost her uncountable beauty?

 

Food for thought, there Sam.

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Why I will never diet for 30 years for anyone. A response to something I shouldn’t have read.

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