Pork chops 'n' porky pants

Saw J, my fab breast care nurse today. I asked her about my lipo-modelling — fat from my stomach has been used to augment my new breast — and why I have to wear a hang-glider-sized* squeeze-me corset for knickers. Apparently the surgeon has to wrench the fat from your stomach, and the procedure is brutal (a fact that was also discussed at the breast cancer support group last night.) I must have got a medically-approved beating. That explains the bruises, then. No wonder Mr A said he "couldn't" film the operation for me. I asked J about the pants - what difference do they make?

"Well," she said in her matter-of-fact Irish way. "You know the fat in a piece of pork. If you imagine going at it for a while with a pokey thing" (can't remember what she said - stick? skewer? screwdriver?) "you'd get a load of holes in it, wouldn't you? That's what you've got inside your belly — a load of holes that the remaining fat needs to fill. So the tight pants push the stomach down and spread the fat around (it's fluid, you know) — and it fills the holes."

Well! It's amazing what food you can learn from. And, quite by coincidence, we had pork chops for dinner.

*My mother-in-law's so fat, you can make hang-gliders out of her knickers. (Apparently mother-in-law jokes are back. It said so in the Daily Mail, so it must be true. Is this one of Les Dawson's? Answers on a postcard, please.)