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Wednesday, 16 September 2015

Walking Through Treacle

It's 5.30am and my Fibro is conspiring against me. My legs feel like I'm wearing these - 


whilst being dangled over the edge of a bloody large shelf. My brain then decides to join in the argument by whizzing through all of the things that are currently playing on my mind (lack of job, wedding, the price of fish). Then BINGO! I am wide awake and camped out on the sofa with a cup of tea, Planet Rock radio and 2 expectant Yorkie's. From a personal point of view life would be much simpler if brains had an 'off' switch and then I could sleep a bit more soundly if not for those pesky heavy legs.
People probably think me slightly odd in that the impending nuptials don't fill me with a sense of overwhelming excitement at the moment. A certain level of dread yes, but that is only down to the fact that I'm convinced I'll look physically awful in whatever I choose to wear; and stress - can I call it that? It's more of a low level 'pissed off - ness' kinda stress. The type that manifests itself usually when you are having gargantuan weddings with 100's of guests and you're told you can't invite this person without inviting that one, and if you don't invite So and So's brats you'll upset them etc etc. Well guess what. If you invite just 5 people - yes that's the amount you can count on one hands worth of fingers, you will still get this level of shite from certain quarters and then seriously wish you could un-invite the perpetrator to allow you to get on and have the day You want. I have an overwhelming urge to speak my mind but I'm biting my lip so as not to worsen the non existent relationship I already have with these individuals. It's no biggy really. I'm not asking to sacrifice a child at the altar before I say my vows so why the agro? Let me make spell it out-
  • I'm generally not a hypocrite so if I really can't stand someones guts I won't be 2 faced play nice and schmooze with them/invite them to my wedding/barmitzvah/birthday piss up. Believe me, if I loathe you then you don't want to be in my company when the alcohol is flowing. You might hear a few home truths.
  • Just because someone is 'family' it doesn't mean they have to be there when you have stipulated that it's just a small do. Accept this people and move on.
  • Traditions do not have to be adhered to. The groom does not have to wear a suit and the bride does not have to wear a hideous concoction that would look more at home covering a bog roll. We do not have to have an engagement, a show off diamond bling ring, a wedding list that will leave most people hyperventilating, a stag do, a hen do nor are we forbidden to see each other the night before/the morning of because it's unlucky. We don't have to pay a jumped up photographer vast amounts of cash to boss us around either. If we want tongue out rockin it selfies as a memento of our day then so be it.
  • I do not have to take my husband to be's surname. This is the 21st century and I am the last of my family to carry my surname, so out of immeasurable respect to my parents who short of a seance can't be there, I'll hang on to it thank you.
I firmly believe that as our dosh has paid for the registry office, cake and meal we can do what we bloody well like. If I want to walk down the 'aisle' wearing my lucky pants and my favourite New York t-shirt with a bouquet of writhing grass snakes instead of flowers then I jolly well will (don't worry I won't ). If the groom wants to wear a paint splattered t-shirt, holey jeans and Converse then go for it. I'm not doing this for show or to make a nice photo to put on the wall that you can brag to your friends about. 



There's a lot to be said for eloping. That is all I can say.

I have more pressing matters to worry about today. In a few hours I'm getting my hair cut for the first time in 2 years. Not only that but I'm trusting the local college students to do it (cheapskate) and I'll be there for hours! Then later on I'm getting pierced by a trainee. A decision I may live to regret but I'm all for helping out. If I'm honest I am bricking it but there you go. Lets just put it down to a mid life crisis. If anyone has any bright ideas as to how I can get a girly 6 pack in 8 weeks then I'm open to suggestions - don't forget I'm not as pliable as I used to be. In the mean time it's back to crocheting on the exercise bike.




This is my before photo by the way :)

P.S. Ok so I have a confession to make. I didn't get my lip pierced after all. That sensible side of my brain kicked in and I realised I'd look a right Tit with 2 piercings so close together. 46 is too old to pass for an Emo after all. I did however get my hair cut. I was at the college for 2 hours and it was sooo relaxing I could've dropped off. The poor student was a little lacking in confidence but she did a wonderful job and it only cost me £4.50. Yes, four flippin pounds and fifty pence. Support your local college I say.


Thursday, 3 September 2015

I Blame Men



Ever noticed how all women's problems begin with men? Menstruation. Mental breakdown. Menopause? Don't worry this isn't a bloke bashing post. I, according to my dear Doctor have started the Peri menopause! As I stared at him in disbelief he explained that this is basically the period (no pun intended) where your body eases you into that joyful stage of your life called 'the change'. My god being female is a never ending joy isn't it especially when you think 'Wahay I'm past the childbearing years' you're hit with this quadruple whammy that can apparently last 10 years. 10 friggin years of rambunctious hormones, things drying up (that'll be your skin and your foof then), night sweats (mine can't distinguish between night and bloody day) and hot flushes. Most days I could happily walk around with my bra stuffed with frozen peas. My hands, arms and feet are blue and freezing cold but the rest of me would give Mount Etna a good run for its money. I've always said I would refuse HRT but if the NHS touted ants testicles as the cure all for this hell I would happily sprinkle them on my cornflakes every morning.

So Friday saw me leave the 'perfect job'. There were flowers, there were cards, there was gin! there were tears, furry alpacas, chocolate and more tears. Never has a Temp been made to feel more fabulous and appreciated than I was and it has broken me to walk away but the job is not mine to be had. Don't get me wrong, every day I hope and wish that their returning Admin girl decides it's not for her after 3 months in the jungle saving small critters, gets bored and buggers off. I'm not being mean. I loved the job, I loved the hi viz wearing blokes and all of their quirks, I loved my nutty boss and my fab work colleague. I even loved most of the drivers and the smell of composting rubbish. What's to feel guilty about especially as the dead cert jobs the agency had lined up for me have turned out to be anything but. Let's face it, I don't fancy being jobless again and contrary to popular belief I would rather earn less and be monumentally happy at work than earn over £20k a year working for some huge company that struggles to remember who you are let alone the fact that you have a life outside of their 4 walls *cough* Asda.



It's not all been doom and gloom in the cow shed. Ok so Kimi broke a toe and a claw but on the plus side I got to practise my pet 1st aid skills several times a day - much to his disgust. He's on the mend now but obsessed with nibbling at his phantom claw. The wedding arrangements are pretty much done and dusted though the bride-to-be is no thinner and currently unable to utilise the exercise bike thanks to crippling fibro, so there is still no dress. At this rate I'll be limping down the aisle in a Metallica t-shirt and leggings, not that it would bother me or the ball-and-chain-to-be. I do however still wish we'd just got hitched on the quiet as some people are intent on voicing their opinions again and again about our choice of guests. Has anyone ever un-invited people to their wedding cos I sure as hell will give it a go if that's what it takes to keep this as our day. Don't be fooled by this pink, fluffy haired exterior. I can turn into the Hulk at the drop of a hat....Raaaarrrr!



Actually that's probably what I'll look like on the day :)