Everyone’s Seen My Tits: Stories and Reflections from an Unlikely Feminist by Keeley Hazell

Author:Keeley Hazell [HAZELL, KEELEY]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2025-08-27T00:00:00+00:00

Celebrity Crushed

There was no one in the world I had a bigger celebrity crush on than J.C. I still, to this day, remember the first time I saw him. I was sixteen and lying on the sofa nursing a hangover and mindlessly changing the channels on the television when his face came on the screen. I immediately stopped flipping. I took one glimpse of his blue eyes and sat upright. Who was this man? I had to find out. So I did what you naturally do when you see the man of your dreams: I picked up the landline and called my best friend, Patsy. In a panicked state, knowing time was of the essence, that if she didn’t turn to the same channel right now, he might go off-screen and I might never see him again, I yelled at her to call me back because my mum would kill me for running up the phone bill; then, when she did, I told her to turn on Channel Three to look at my future husband. “He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. I’m in love with him,” I told her definitively, not knowing his name or anything about him.

Patsy, who was much more up to speed on these things than me, told me he was a football player. The team he played for was a bit wanky, not one I would have chosen to support, but I was willing to throw any loyalty I had out the window for those blue eyes…

I had no way of looking my dream man up online, so I did the next best thing and purchased a calendar of the football team he played for, and Mum, who always kept a calendar on the kitchen wall, decided she wanted to use it to save herself from buying another one. So there it was—a calendar for a football team no one in the house supported hung in the kitchen.

The calendar had photos of different players for each month of the year, and every time a new month would arrive, my mum would change it, and I would change it back to April—the month with a photo of J.C. I couldn’t stop staring at him. I tried to use the power of my mind and will him out of the photo and into my kitchen. I started going by K.C. to all my friends, as if we were already married. I’d named our children. I even took a pen to our kitchen wall, which still had no wallpaper and looked like the inside of a bathroom stall because my family (mostly me) had scribbled all over it. I found an empty space and wrote in big capital letters with a permanent marker: I LOVE J.C.! And K.C 4 J.C., followed by IDST (if destroyed, still true).

I still hadn’t gotten over my J.C. crush a year later, when, aged seventeen, I entered my first modeling competition, and the newspaper asked me, “What would you like to do if you win?” and I said, “Meet J.

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