“Billygean I bet your legs are the same size as my arms,” MindReader’s sister said, twirling the tape measure from her cracker around her fingers.
“Really?” I said.
“Measure your calf,” she said, handing the tape measure over. “Around the biggest bit.”
I scrutinised my leg and tried to make the muscle as big as possible before realising that, sadly, I am so out of touch with the world of exercise that I don’t even know how to tense my muscle.
We measured my leg, and MindReader’s sister’s arm. My leg was bigger, obviously.
“Who’s got the biggest head?” MindReader’s brother-in-law said.
That’s when things got out of control. On Christmas night, we measured our heads. I was pleasantly surprised to find my head is of a normal, median size. We measured noses (mine was the longest). We measured waists and wrists and ankle girths and necks and foot-thicknesses.
“I wonder what my bra size is,” I said. MindReader threw me an aghast look.
“You measure this bit,” MindReader’s mum said, standing up and putting the tape measure around my ribs. “And then you add… something if it’s an even number.” She pulled the tape measure tight. “28 inches.”
“You add four,” MindReader’s sister said. “So 32.”
“I thought you added one for an even number and two for an odd…”
MindReader’s mum started measuring higher. Around my – around my actual boobs. I was not really uncomfortable, just pleased to be receiving a free bra measurement on Christmas day. MindReader looked very uncomfortable.
“It doesn’t fit,” she said with a smirk. “Hang on.”
She tilter her head after measuring around my back, bringing the ends of the tape measure to my front.
“Now we go nipple to nipple…” she said.
MindReader’s other relatives looked on, quite frightened.