Mystery of the incredible shrinking women
|Nury Vittachi||Jun 6, 2012|
DO YOU KNOW how much you weigh? I don’t. Researchers say people today deliberately avoid weighing themselves, fearing bad news.
Manufacturers will have make weighing machines that chase us around the house and throw themselves under our feet.
“Gotcha! You’re 72 kilos, BLIMP,” their digital voices will scream, as we block our ears and sing: “LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU.”
But here’s the big news.
There’s a totally new way to get slim and beautiful, I hear from a reader named Shoichi.
All you need to do is become a Japanese woman.
The number of fat women in Japan is declining steeply, from 26 percent in 1995 to 22 percent in 2010, according to data revealed last week.
At this rate, there will be no fat women by 2030 and no women at all by 2048. This will be a shame, as Japanese men look terrible in sailor suit school dresses.
Is it because of the Japanese diet?
No, says Shoichi. Japanese MEN are becoming fatter at the same speed as urban residents over the rest of the planet. It’s not the food, but “the Japanese female mindset”.
So the big question is, where can I get a Japanese female mindset? Can I order one through the internet?
Reading his email reminded me of the time I spent two days on tour with a Japanese author.
I never saw her eat anything, nor take a toilet break.
On my return, I read an interview with a woman who married into the Japanese emperor’s family. She said the ladies of the royal court put her on a training course to teach her to arrest her bodily functions for a full day, so she would not have to interrupt her semi-divine duties with cries of: “Whoa, I need a MAJOR dump.”
I expect they upped it to a week, and then a month, and eventually got her to a state where she has no bodily functions at all.
And you know how Japanese toilets have lots of buttons? Well, on my most recent visit, I noticed the latest toilets have a button for women only.
I did not press it, in case it triggered some sort of mechanical action which either removed my genitalia, or (more likely) my ENTIRE DIGESTIVE SYSTEM.
This is actually a natural progression if you think about it. Up to now, Japanese washrooms have been filled with noise suppressors, odor eliminators, sound substitution devices, etc, so users lose all awareness that they are in a toilet.
In 2004, I reported on a new public toilet block built for visitors to Himeji Castle in Hyogo Prefecture. It had such a great atmosphere that people who used it refused to leave. (This is not a joke.)
The authorities wanted to call the police, but found there were no laws regulating how long people stay in a toilet. It became a sort of community centre, where people would meet every day to chat, nap and play chess.
Meanwhile, readers who are not Japanese females should avoid tailors, since they can often tell how much you weigh just by looking at you.
LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU.
ON UNRELATED TOPICS…
LAST NIGHT I was chatting with a comedian named Nick Milne. We were musing on the old adage that “praise and notoriety both lead to the same destination: fame”. Not sure who said that first. Someone told me it was Confucius, but I’m unconvinced.
This was in reference to the Gay Porn Psycho Killer (above) who has been on the run until yesterday. After years of failure, this bad actor has received global fame at last. And, we all hope, a jail sentence for a looong time.
Thanks also (I think) to the reader who sent me the link to the video of him chopping up his victim. The link has now been removed by police, but the tiny bits I saw through the fingers over my eyes were curiously unaffecting: burry images of a man who looks like he is doing something to a mannequin.
MUCH MORE affecting, surprisingly enough, were the images on TV of huge crowds floating down the River Thames (above), and standing outside Buckingham Palace celebrating the Queen’s 60 years on the throne.
I don’t actually know what the Queen does, if anything, but the outpouring of affection to an old lady was nice to see.
Best bit for me was Paul McCartney making all the celebrities and crowd sing Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da. It was not exactly the Beatles’ finest song, but it had the sort of giddy, silly happiness that was just right for that moment.
One of the nice things about getting older (under-40s please note) is that you become increasingly uncritical about stuff, so it becomes much easier to get happy.
But I’m STILL not going anywhere near the weighing machine.
Are you happy?