The three weirdest things about my body

Tuesday’s blog post about my dream ankle boots made me think about my feet – so here are the three strangest things about my body. Get ready for some real weirdness…

3. Clown feet

I used to have the tiniest feet. My right foot was a size 3 and my left foot was a size 3 and a half, but I used to squash them into size 3 shoes, because it made them look cuter. Then, when I was modelling shoes for TopShop (a story for tomorrow’s blog), I would sneakily splay them out when getting measured, in order to model industry-standard size 4s. Anyhow, these were my feet:

My feet

They were so small and pretty with such high arches that, unknown to me, I was listed on a celebrity website for foot fetishists called Wikifeet! And one of the top Google searches under my name for a long time was ‘Ariane Sherine feet’.

Sadly my feet are not small and pretty any more. These days, I don’t like to draw attention to them.

Why?

When I was pregnant with my daughter, I put on five stone. The extra weight I was carrying meant my feet swelled… to a size 7 and a half. A SIZE 7 AND A HALF! I would joke that this is more than double the length, but I think you know better.

Since then, my weight has yo-yoed up and down, and my feet have swelled and decreased along with it. I’ve never heard of this happening to anyone else. I’m currently a size 6, but chances are when I shrink, my feet will shrink along with me. If this sounds implausible, here are measurements of my flabby size 6 right foot today (weirdly, 23.5cm long, 23.5cm diameter at the widest part):

 [Big fat foot. I wouldn’t make it onto Wikifeet these days!]

[Yes, I do need to repaint my toenails. You’re quite right.]

Let’s see how long and wide my foot is after I lose another five stone. Hopefully not size 3, as I sold all my beautiful tiny size 3 shoes. (Though the proceeds went to charity, so at least someone benefited.)

Lesson: don’t put on loads of weight if you have nice feet.

clown-678042_1920.jpg

2. Ping pong ball in groin

Aged 17, I was doing a BTEC in Performing Arts (a very short-lived phase that lasted less than a term). I laughed too hard at a joke (probably my own, as they weren’t a funny bunch) and felt something pop out on the right side of my groin. After that, whenever I laughed or coughed, a ping pong ball-sized bulge appeared below my knicker line.

I went to the doctor and was referred to a consultant, who told me it was an ‘inguinal hernia’. Basically, a bit of my intestine had broken through the intestinal wall and was sticking out of the top of my lady garden. Nice!

I was going to have it treated but was too much of a wuss. I think it repaired itself eventually, as after about five years I couldn’t feel it anymore. If you were expecting Thai sex club connotations in this post, I can only apologise.

Lesson: never laugh too hard.

Hernia

1. Gill (for breathing underwater)

When I was a toddler, my mum noticed a lump on the right-hand side of my neck and took me to the doctor, thinking I had neck cancer. The doctor examined me and said ‘That’s not neck cancer – it’s a gill!’

‘A gill?!’ my mother asked, baffled.

‘Yes,’ came the reply, ‘a vestigial gill from the days when humans used to breathe underwater.’

My mum, you and everyone else could be forgiven for replying ‘WTAF?!’

When the delightful and charming kids at primary school asked what the lump was, and I replied ‘a gill’, they said they were going to hold me underwater and see if I could breathe through my gill.

These days, when anyone asks me about the lump (it’s not very noticeable and about the size of a lump of fudge), I tell them about the gill, then launch into The Temptations’ song: ‘Talkin’ bout my gill – my gill!’ 

And then I ask them if they want to feel the gill, and they invariably do. They feel it and then they go ‘ooh!’ in surprise at the squidgy lump between their fingers. My best friend described it as ‘very exciting’, but then he doesn’t get out much.

[The gill is the slightly raised discoloured bit below the mole.]

When I was in my teens, a GP asked if I wanted to have the gill removed, but I said no – because why have surgery when there’s no need? It doesn’t bother me. I’ve never found out why the lump is there, but the original doctor’s ‘gill’ explanation isn’t substantiated online. It may just be a lipoma. Still, the ‘gill’ theory seems more rational than my Asian grandmother’s:

‘When God was making you out of clay, he had an extra bit left over, so he put it on your neck.’ [Couldn’t he have made my boobs bigger instead?]

And that’s before we get to the amazingly racist bit:

‘White people were baked in God’s oven for too short a time, black people were baked for too long, but Asian people were baked just right.’

Sounds like a half-baked theory to me.

Lesson: If clay left over, put on boobs.

PS: Apparently my nan’s batshit insane theory is a very ancient myth from all kinds of beige and brown people.

PPS Science actually says my nan was half-right when she told me complete bollocks.

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THE GREAT WEIGHT LOSS CHALLENGE!

Day 24

Me: 12st 5.4lbs (total loss in 24 days: 8.8lbs)

I had the runs yesterday. John texted: ‘Getting the squits is cheating!’

John: 14st 3.25lbs (total loss in 24 days: 4.25lbs)

John is very kindly plugging my latest book. 26 five-star reviews can’t be wrong!

This post has been made possible by my awesome Patreon supporters Ricky Steer, Marc Alexander, Chris Birkett, John Fleming, Mary Clarke, Matthew Sylvester, Brian Engler, Jack Scanlan, Dave Nattriss, Musical Comedy Guide, Mark White, Lucy Spencer, Shane Jarvis, Graham Nunn, Emily Hill and Marcus P Knight.

They receive a whole host of exciting rewards in addition to this credit, including my secret never-published fiction and top secret photos! If you enjoyed this post, please support me on Patreon. 

Rewards start from just $1 a month, which is 85p in real money and gets you access to my weekly Patreon email. It’s like this blog, but EVEN BETTER!

Why Morrissey is wrong about everything

When I was in my late teens and twenties, one of my regular pastimes was arguing with my best friend Graham about music. He thought my favourite bands (Duran Duran and U2) were rubbish; I thought his favourite band and associated artist (The Smiths and Morrissey) had superlative lyrics, but dirgy and discordant melodies that often sounded the same. We only found common ground with Depeche Mode and Pet Shop Boys, two bands we both loved.

Getting back to Morrissey: I also thought ‘Bengali In Platforms’ was up there with The Kinks’ ‘Apeman’ as the most racist song I’d ever heard. Morrissey had written the lyrics:

‘Bengali, Bengali, Bengali, Bengali
Oh, shelve your Western plans
And understand
That life is hard enough when you belong here’

and he was therefore racist.

Graham argued Morrissey wasn’t racist; he was just a provocateur who liked to court attention by saying shocking things.

20 years later, he has had to admit that I was right. He has been horrified by Morrissey’s support for the far-right political party For Britain, and his Islamophobia, to the extent that he’s refused to buy Morrissey’s latest album California Son.

“Can you imagine if Simon Le Bon turned out to be a massive racist?” Graham asked me. “It’s so distressing.” (I said I couldn’t imagine any such thing, especially as Simon’s wife is half-Asian and Duran Duran have been so heavily influenced by bands like Chic, The Temptations and Public Enemy.)

Anyhow, let’s go through and debunk a few of Morrissey’s claims:

Morrissey on For Britain: “For Britain seem to say what many British people are currently thinking, which is why the BBC or Channel 4 News will not acknowledge them, because, well, For Britain would change British politics forever.”

Fixed it for you:

“For Britain seem to say what many racist British people are currently thinking, which is why the BBC or Channel 4 News will not acknowledge them, because they don’t want to entertain racists, and For Britain would change British politics for the worse forever.”

Morrissey on Sadiq Khan: “The Mayor of London tells us about ‘Neighborhood policin’ – what is ‘policin’? He tells us London is an ‘amazin’ city. What is ‘amazin’? This is the Mayor of London! And he cannot talk properly! I saw an interview where he was discussing mental health, and he repeatedly said ‘men’el’ … he could not say the words ‘mental health’.”

What he means:

“The Mayor of London is Muslim and I don’t like Muslims, so I’m going to pick at his London accent as I can’t find anything else to pick on him for. I also have flat Mancunian vowels and Sadiq Khan could well say ‘What is a “bath”? What is a “mug”?’ But he wouldn’t because he’s not that small-minded and petty and understands that the UK is a diverse place with many different equally valid accents.”

Morrissey on Diane Abbott: “No, I haven’t ever voted. I don’t have sufficient faith in the circus of politics … and … you can see why! It is a moral disaster on every level. Even Tesco wouldn’t employ Diane Abbott.”

Fixed it:

“No, I haven’t ever voted, because I am a moral disaster on every level. Even Tesco wouldn’t employ Diane Abbott because she would be way over-qualified even if she applied to be CEO.”

And one more:

Morrissey on being called ‘racist’: “When someone calls you racist, what they are saying is “hmm, you actually have a point, and I don’t know how to answer it, so perhaps if I distract you by calling you a bigot we’ll both forget how enlightened your comment was.”

Fixed:

“When someone calls you racist, what they are saying is ‘hmm, you are actually a racist’.”

Anyhow, I could do this all day, but the internet doesn’t have enough space for me to refute all of Morrissey’s stupid remarks, so I’ll go and do something more productive now.

Ariane GrahamMe and Big G in front of the atheist bus, back when he loved Mozza.

THE GREAT WEIGHT LOSS CHALLENGE!

Day 14

Me: 12st 8.2lbs (total loss in 14 days: 6lbs)

I weigh the same today – and so does John!

John: 14st 5.25lbs (total loss in 14 days: 2.25lbs)

Let’s hope this week sees more weight loss for both of us.

This post has been made possible by my awesome Patreon supporters Ricky Steer, Chris Birkett, John Fleming, Mary Clarke, Matthew Sylvester, Brian Engler, Jack Scanlan, Dave Nattriss, Musical Comedy Guide, Mark White, Lucy Spencer, Shane Jarvis, Graham Nunn, Emily Hill and Marcus P Knight.

They receive a whole host of exciting rewards in addition to this credit, including my secret never-published fiction and top secret photos! If you enjoyed this post, please support me on Patreon.

Rewards start from just $1 a month, which is 85p in real money and gets you access to my weekly Patreon email. It’s like this blog, but EVEN BETTER!