Sunday, July 24, 2016

Weighty issues

A boy called me fat. I say boy and not person because I have never been called fat by a girl. Well not to my face. So yeah a boy tried to insult me and hurt my feelings by calling me fat. I mean what other reason would he have to do it. My weight is no where near an unhealthy level where I would need an intervention. 

I don't know how much I weigh. I've never known how much I have weighed. I don't need to obsess over another numbers. And my dress size makes no sense. In one shop I am 8-10 in other shops I am 14-16. Mostly though I wear size 10. I think the average dress size for a uk woman is size 16. 

So am I fat? Well I am certainly bigger than I have been. That's no secret. It's quite apparent to me when I see the big pile of clothes I have amassed for charity because seriously I am never going to get in them size 6 jeans again. 

I know I don't like my body. I know I have never liked my body. And I also know that my body, like that of every woman I know has been used in an insult. 

All my life my height has been mocked. I am 5'2" and not being able to reach the top shelf in asda has always been a thing of ridicule. 

As a teenager I was incessantly mocked for being flat chested. That has always been a go to joke for people since puberty. I used to cry about it. All I ever wanted from the age of 15 until probably 24 was a boob job until I one day had the realisation that they work. They create milk. They have fulfilled their primary function. Their size is irrelevant. 

I have a big ass. Buying jeans is a nightmare. Stretch materials are my friend. I have been insulted and made fun of for years about it. Even now. 

I used to be size 6. I was called skinny and a rake. I was told to eat more and put meat on my bones. Now I am told I am fat. But always by men. 

I ignore it. I have enough battles with my own internal monologue telling me "don't wear that it's for skinny people who don't have rippled thighs or stretch marks". 

You can insult my weight, my body, my hair all you want because I probably say much worse to myself. And anyway you probably have a tiny penis so you feel you need to project your insecurities. 

Nah just kidding but if you feel you have to insult someone on their physical appearance you will forever be known as a raspberry fuck nut. 

Monday, July 4, 2016

Everything is coming up Milhouse.

That's the funny thing about life. Well my life. As soon as I start getting my shit together, making plans and just generally feeling happy and optimistic life comes along takes a little look and goes "what the fuck? This isn't for you, here, have some bullshit".

Everything was coming up Milhouse and not I'm clinging on for dear life to even maintain a scrap of that, and failing.

I put too much faith in people. And that is not to say the people I put faith in are assholes. Usually they are, but not always. I have faith that they won't leave. That things will work out this time. That they will stick around cos maybe I am worth it. 

Call it abandonment issues if you like but I have a high percentage rate of partners, friends, family just upsticks and leaving. 

Maybe it is me. I mean I am the common denominator here. Maybe I am an actual bitch. Maybe I laugh at my own jokes too much. Maybe it is all too much to be involved in the life of a single mother. Maybe my mental health seems a burden to others.  Maybe in life I wasn't meant to have anything lasting.

Whatever the reason, it hurts time and again to see people leave but still I keep hoping for the best. 

I think I have strayed in to relationship territory in my writing again and I don't want to bore you with that because yet again it was a non-starter that I invested too much in to and humiliated myself in the process.

I will say this though. I have the most awesome friends. I don't have many (who does?) but the few I do have are worth their weight in gold. It took a drunken evening with just one of them to realise I needed to go home home, clean my house, sleep off the hangover and then just let go of the false hope I was feeling.

I'm still sad, the sad doesn't go away, but I am not in that rut that I usually end up in.

Here's to gin and gay bars. 

Monday, May 30, 2016

Beyond the sea

Dating isn't the only thing I write about. But it probably the only thing I publish. The rest of the stuff is super boring and not at all funny. Who would wanna read something that doesn't have at least some comedy in it.

Today I am going to tell you a story of Tinder. "Tinder" I hear you cry. Yes Tinder. I haven't given up on internet dating yet even if it usually flushes out every mental human in a 50 mile radius.

So 2 months ago I matched with a chap. Nothing new there. I match with mutes a lot so day 2 I say hi. We chatted for 12 hours. Pretty much none stop. This is a good sign the average Tinder chat lasts 4 minutes and consists of strangers asking each other how they are. 

We spoke every day for 6 days before he gave me his number. This is big news in the world of internet dating. 

So we arranged to meet on day 7. On this fateful day I spent the day afternoon at a friends and she poisoned me. Well she didn't, but she did feed me wheat pasta, i spent a lovely evening feeling sorry for myself in the bathroom. That didn't put him off and he still wanted to meet up. 

But then he came clean, he was due to leave for America at some point and in his words he 'wouldn't class himself as a keeper but was cool with meeting as friends'. 

So after another week of chatting about crisps and gin and adventure time we arranged to meet again. That evening I walked to the pub and crippling social prevented me from going inside. I stood for 10 minutes in the rain in complete panic before going in. 

Finally I went in. He was reading (result not a moron) and hand umbrella corps gloves (why do I remember this?). We had a great 3 hours, well I did, and I didn't want it to end but he had to get the last train home. I headed off feeling pleased that I had faced by fears and gone on an actual date with an actual boy. It is not something I had been able to do in ages due to my horrifically low self esteem. 

The more we talked and the more I saw him the happier I felt so on day 29 I told him i liked him a lot and I didn't even do a Dumb and Dumber impression when I did it so clearly I meant it (damn it I am such a moron why do i open my big gob?).

So day 48 he tells me he is leaving in 7 days. My heart broke. I knew all along he was leaving. but i didn't think it would be so soon. i didn't think I would just have a week left with this awesome man. So I know what you are thinking "48 days is nothing. It is not long enough to actually care about someone". I do hope you are not thinking that actually you mean bastards.

The thing is I don't find many humans that I get close to either romantically or just as friends. I just am not sure how to do it well, friending (that's a word). So when someone I care about moves to the other side of the world it is a horrible feeling. 

Day 56 and he boarded a flight and headed to Orlando to start a new job and, well, a new life. 

That was 3 days ago and I feel sad. That is the only way I can describe how I feel just sad. 

So that is my story about how internet dating can actually work, even if it is only for 56 days. 

I miss him.

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Timehop may just be bad for your soul

I don't time shop, nor do I "on this day". 

The idea of looking back at where I was and what I was doing 7 years ago, or even last year, fills me with dread. 

I used to Timehop, to look at photos and think "look how skinny I was", "look at how my hair was then", "look at me and that friend I never even talk to any more".

I found the whole process was making me miserable. Too many what ifs and negative thoughts about how my life is now would enter my mind. 

I was looking back in the wrong way. I should have been thinking "wow I no longer do that awful; dead-end job", "thank god I didn't end up with him" or "jeez how financially insecure was I?"

I guess sometimes it is nice too look back and reminisce on the fun and laughs but why would you want to potentially face some sad memories daily?

If you are going to Timehop then do so with caution, and use it to think "things got better" not "I wish I was that skinny". But be careful you don't get trapped in the infinite Timehop loop as that post from 7 years ago that you shared on Facebook will show up again next year as 8 years ago and 1 year ago. You could end up breaking the whole space-time continuum and that could be as dangerous as crossing the streams. 

Monday, March 21, 2016

Wonky Tripod need less than £100 to meet their target

In April 2015 the Wonky Tripod - a group of three Swindon lads - began for Macmillan Cancer Support. The trio gave themselves a target of £6000 to raise before they embarked on a five-day trek in the Gunung Leuser National Park, Sumatra in May 2016.

After a successful dinner-dance this past weekend at Blunsdon House Hotel, featuring the band Good Times, raising £3021.50, Wonky Tripod are pleased to announce they are at 98% of their fundraising target.

After the dinner dance the team said “We'd like to say an incredibly humongous THANK YOU to all who attended the fundraiser on Saturday night. It was a roaring success, the food was delicious, the band Good Times were awesome and kept everyone dancing right up until the lights came on.”

With just £96.10 to go the boys are hoping for a final push to meet their target before they head-off to Sumatra.  You can find out more on their Facebook page

The Wonky Tripod are Matty Barnes, Callum Stroud and Dan Guinness
They are raising money for Macmillan Cancer Support registered charity number 261017
The Wonky Tripod JustGiving page is
The Wonky Tripod Facebook page is

Sunday, January 17, 2016

Dream big, be happy.

I have these two mirrors in my bathroom. On the bottom of them in glittery don't says "Dream big" and "be happy".

I've lost track of my dreams. I stopped writing. I stopped sharing my words which is the only thing I want to do.

So I'm going to write again. And I know someone out there is reading it. After all there have been over 46k page views. So hopefully I am being at least a little bit entertaining. 

I guess to some people writing a blog isn't really dreaming big. But it's big enough for me. For the moment at least. 

Now to work on being happy. Which is not an easy task. Not least because I am an absolute dick to myself. I've shut myself off from the world for long enough now. I've let depression get the better of me, again. 

First step doctors. Now I really don't give a fuck if people view medication as the wrong way treat mental illness. For me it's right. And for all those who are anti-meds. Try not taking paracetamol next time you have a headache and let me know how you get on. 

I'm not quite sure what the second step is but I'll work on that. I'd be interested if anyone wants to share their thoughts on what it could be.