A Happy Medium.

The only things that should be supersized for a lady without her consent are diamonds.

What happened to medium? It’s all extra-large grande and tiny weenie miniature now.

For example, coffee only seems to come in extra, extra stupidly large or teeny tiny espresso. No self-respecting person will admit to ordering a medium-sized anything these days.

In fact I do blame coffee shops for a lot of it. Much as I rage against it internally, I am compelled by my British reserve to request either a ‘skinny’ or a ‘full fat’ milky beverage from them.

I don’t want either. I want semi-skimmed milk.

Enter coffee shop.

‘Milky coffee with semi skimmed milk please’.

‘Excuse me’?

‘Medium size latte. Low fat milk’. (points) ‘Green milk’.

‘Ah, Grande Skinny Latte. Sure. And your name?’

‘Spartacus. It’s not really and I don’t want any fuss please. I just want a cup without my name on it. I’m British and terribly embarrassed when you shout my name out. I just want a medium-sized cup that I can hold with one hand. I’m British and I’m already holding an umbrella and a large bag. I’m not Madonna. I don’t have the muscles. They both went under just the one name though didn’t they? Who? Spartacus and Madonna. Doesn’t grande mean large? Oh god please don’t write my name on the cup’.

Is it a British thing? Polite to the bitter end and … oh I’ll take the medium please.

Yes, I seek the compromise of the middle ground in politics, American coffee shops, T-shirts and kebabs.

What I don’t want though, is a choice between medium and large. Because that’s small and large. Not medium. There is no medium in a selection of two sizes.

See also junk food. It’s all miniature fish and chips and thumb sized pies or Supersize Me. Marks and Spencer’s is chock full of teeny tiny versions of fast food cunningly disguised as canapés.

But visit a fast food emporium for the real thing and they’re basically slapping you round the face to get you to upgrade to the giant size portion.

Fancy a ready meal? Choose from a Weight Watchers approved lasagne fit only for an Italian mouse, or go for the ‘Big Hungry Man’ version which is actually big enough for exactly 1.75 people. Not two people. That would be ridiculous.

Basically it’s all either starve yourself into a small skinny shadow or eat until you’re obese. What happened to the middle ground?

See also breasts. As in bosoms. Supermodels don’t have any. None whatsoever. Every other celebrity in the newspaper has a double portion. (As in twice the size, not four).

And cupcakes. They sound like a euphemism for lady bumps but they’re actually just giant fairy cakes. Sliders – ditto for gentlemen but just tiny hamburgers.

Marathon or sprint. Mini or Maxi. Austerity or Luxe. It’s all or nothing.

Where is my happy medium?


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