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.