Quotes – Carrie Fisher

I’ll admit I didn’t know much about Carrie Fisher, but I’ve been reading some incredible quotes and been inspired to buy a couple of her books, I’ll admit I have fallen for her way with words and taken great motivation and inspiration from them.

This was one that really stuck with me, so powerful.  An admission of mental illness, and such strength to be unashamed and to not let it beat you.

The second one, literally is like it came from the bit inside my head that doesn’t know how to explain itself.

For years every fucking doctor has always said, I’m depressed, and you feel poorly because you are depressed.  It’s the depression that makes very muscle and bone ache, makes your chest go tight, makes you physically sick.

But this isn’t true.

I truly believe I feel depressed because of how poorly I feel at times.  Yes, I know I have underlying depression, and it haunts me, but it feels like something triggers me, sets off the pain, and makes the depression worse.

At the moment, my issue with food, is as the quote says.

Depression makes me binge, the binge makes me feel poorly, and bam, my body becomes a huge poorly fat fucking mess of a side effect of my mind.

Rest in peace Carrie, you true legend, inspiration, and motivational babe.


Making Memories

I hate that awkward limbo between Christmas and New Year, I’m currently sat in jeans that are way too tight due to too much cheese and merriment, and feeling like a huge fatty bom-bom.


I haven’t even drunk that much the last few days, I’m so annoyed about that fact.  GP has switched my tablets around and I’ve felt a little strange so stayed off the hard stuff.

In fact I think in the absence of alcohol I have substituted all liquids for cheese, crisps, turkey and any other rich festive shit I can jam in my gob.

Anyhoo.  This time of year is always a little sad, remembering family and friends who aren’t with us anymore. We lost my Grandad in March 2015 and I’m sure it gets harder every year, I would give up a limb to be able to go and have a cup of tea, a Chorley cake and a good chin wag with him.  We would talk for hours about cars, old times, and generally put the world to rights.  Breaks my heart to not be able to see him, talk to him, miss him so much.

I can’t remember which film it was, I’m sure it was Hayley Mills who was hugging someone and sniffing them(clothes and hair obvs, not knickers) and when asked what she was doing she replied “I’m making a memory”.  I have always loved that phrase, and my own memories are so vivid from my childhood and beyond, it’s become so important to me to make memories for me, hubbo, W, and all of our family and friends.

Boxing Day we went walking with family, and this was one of those moments, where I just wanted to remember it forever.  I looked back at my local church, blue skies, sunshine, and my nanny, son and auntie were chatting and laughing:

Another lovely one was my sleepy little muffin seeing all the presents under the tree:

The biggest one for me is the seaside. I love the sight, smell and sound of the sea, it’s my happy place.

Obvs not the smell of fish, that shit is nasty.  I’m not a fish fan, unless it’s animated by Disney or if I’m eating it it can’t look, smell or taste like fish.  Basically fish fingers and little prawns is my limit.

My mummy in law lives on the Isle of Wight, that’s some serious spiritual seaside shit right there; being an island and all that there’s plenty of sea.  Lush.

I can’t find a picture at present but my favourite view in the whole world is there – if you walk along the cliff in Lake, there is a gap in the hedges.

If you go through, past the wooden the hubsch, and down a step, there is a steep footpath down to the beach, I believe it is known as the Lake revetment but I’m not sure.

When you turn to the footpath, the view is stunning – it doesn’t matter if it’s sunshine, rain, whatever, it’s just so gorgeous and makes my heart want to burst, something about that view and that place makes me so happy.

Looking down that path you can see the cliffs, Shanklin seafront, ships at sea, sandy beaches, it’s just wonderful.  The sea breeze in your face, the chill in the winter, the saltiness of it, I could bang on all day, if I close my eyes I’m there.  Fucking lush.

Must dash, decorations to take down and more bad food to devour.  Plus the small one is abed so I *may* sneak a cheeky nap in.

Rock and fucking roll!


New Years resolutions & a happier me

I never really take New Years resolutions seriously, always full of promises and not a lot of willpower, and usually I last about two days.  If that.

2016 has been the usual bullshit for me, how I was going to lose weight, how I would be skinny, and driven by a number on the scales as per usual.

There is always so much emphasis on that bloody number on the scales. Or it’s all about BMI, or waist measurements, or clothes size.

For twenty years I’ve had some pretty bad demons in relation to food and my weight, I have tried every bloody diet under the sun, and done a lot of damage to myself by yoyo dieting, both physically and mentally.

I have an underactive thyroid that is on a rapid downward spiral, which doctors tell me I made worse or even caused by starving myself and bingeing. 

This then makes the dodgy thyroid worse, which kills my metabolism, drains any energy I have, and then makes Big D seriously shit.

The GP then adjusts my levothyroxine dose, sends me on my way and it takes my body 4-8 weeks to right itself again.  I feel good, and the vicious cycle starts again.

I’m hugely overweight and I have a huge issue with overeating, bingeing and starving.  You have no idea how hard it is to write that for the whole world to see, but I have to come to terms with my issues and I like to think if it’s out there and not hidden away it’s real.

I have been trying some different techniques of late – to try and retrain my brain and attempt to remedy problems I have had and hidden for twenty years, bloody hell its hard.

If I cut my leg I can stick a plaster on it.  But a poorly mind? Nope – it takes a long time and only you can fix it.

I’ve had so many comments made in the past that have done so much damage, from family, friends and complete strangers, and I am ashamed to say I hate myself.

My weight dictates my whole world and other people’s perception of me, and those thoughts are always there.

Anyhoo.  New year. New start.

And all that bullshit.

But I have one huge resolution, one that I am determined to stick to.

I am not going to weigh myself, or measure myself at all in 2017.

Obviously if a doctor needs to weigh me, that doesn’t count. Or if I need a new bra(which I do, I’m desperately lopsided in my trusty m&s number.

But I am done being obsessed about my weight, and about everything being about weight.

“You look great, how much weight have you lost?”

My answer?

Who gives a fuck how much, I feel fucking fabulous.

That’s what I’m aiming for, I am eating for health, focusing on nutrition, eating for a healthy mind, body and soul.

Of course it’s not going to be easy, but I’m going to give it my best shot.

I’ve treated myself to a couple of new eBooks, to get myself in the mood.

The first is by some bird called Leslie Sansome who is apparently huge in the US for her ‘Walk at Home’ workouts, my thinking is I can curb boredom and binges by finding ways to get moving at home.

The second is ‘Managing Depression through Exercise’ and is complete pot luck, it randomly came up on Google search, and looks interesting.

So yes, all good. I’m depressed as fuck but I will change that.

Here’s to a happy HEALTHY 2017


Christmas with a Two year old: the struggle is real 

Everyone told me how amazing Christmas would be this year, how a two year old knows what’s going on, enjoys it all a lot more, and how much fun it would be.

They fail to mention the terrible twos and how that affects all the festive fun.

Big D is strong this year, I’m exhausted and feeling very very low, it’s hard to explain but I don’t feel myself at all and it’s hard to be ‘normal’.

W has been unbearable these last few days.  I feel horrible and guilty for saying that, it’s all supposed to be sunshine and roses.

But it really fucking hasn’t been.

Please don’t judge or think I’m being mean – my son is my world and I love him so much I think I could be sick sometimes, but this phase he is in at the moment is making life so fucking hard.

Yesterday he was so overwhelmed, too many presents and too much spoiling. And some of the worst behaviour I have ever seen from him.

Biting, kicking, screaming, not sharing, not listening – the list goes on.

I am so proud of him at times I feel like I’m going to burst, he can be so kind, caring, affectionate and well behaved. But always with the good is the horrendous shitty days and weeks where everything is a struggle.

You always expect when you have a baby, that you will be some sort of natural earth mum.

That you will never shout, never bribe, never totally lose your shit.

That it will be so natural and easy, how you will gracefully birth a baby from your vajojo and naturally breastfeed until the age of 1, or 6, or 42…

The biggest stinker for me?

“The first time you see your baby you will feel this huge rush of love, and you will have an instant bond”.

Nope, just one huge fucking struggle and the biggest challenge in the world.

Don’t get me wrong, I would never regret having W, that little muffin is my best friend, and my absolute everything.

But every step has been so hard.

I have always been maternal and never doubted that I’m meant to be a mum, but it is the hardest job in the world, and dreadfully stressful at times.

My advice to anyone? IT IS OK TO BE NOT OK. 

I wish someone had been frank and honest and told me how hard parenthood is, and told me how normal it is!

Love your kids, enjoy your kids, and don’t feel bad/guilty/upset when times are vile and really fucking hard going.  You are not alone!

Off to inflict the brat on my parents today, hoping they may offer to keep him for a week.

Haaaaa. Jokes. 

Happy Boxing Day! ?


Merry Christmas!

Merry bloody Christmas all!

I’m currently laying in bed after barely two hours sleep last night and a giant Christmas dinner has just sent me over the edge, I may be comatose for a while.

We have all been thoroughly spoilt, I’ve had a Fitbit upgrade to the Charge HR, I’m so happy and so pleased to get active again next year.

The boy has had a whale of a time and is so overwhelmed he has been a nightmare.  Put him to bed for a sleep and ten minutes later I hear “poooooo mummy”.

Nappy off, shit everywhere, happy days. This kid loves a dirty protest.

In other news, I’ve taken the doctors advice and am now taking regular pain medication to try and keep things at bay, I can’t carry on as I have been, it’s getting worse and dragging me down.

Plan for rest of day:

  1. Sleep(lazy bitch)
  2. Try not to murder toddler who is being particularly vile today
  3. Be merry
  4. Get very merry.

Merry Christmas to all, have an amazing day ?


Parenthood and Christmas Eve: Releasing my inner pisshead(Part 1)

Every single year, the week before Christmas is mental busy, getting everything ready, finishing buying presents and then wrapping the damn things(I fucking hate wrapping presents), and then the dreaded food shop, and I look forward to that point on Christmas Eve, around 5-6-7pm, when all is done, the table is set, everything is done, and I can sit down.

And get absolutely fucking smashed.

I’m not a huge drinker, but I love a drink.  A nice glass of cold Prosecco, a shot of Baileys, a cheeky cider, mmmmm.

As I’ve got older it’s less about the cheapest shit available to get me as pissed as quickly as possible, and more about finding a nice tipple to enjoy, and get slightly silly at the same time.

The hubbo had the perfect quote last year, when we had finished dinner, and he announced it was time to get merrily fucked up.

God, I love that man.

I love a good traditional Christmas – I’m not a regular churchgoer but I do follow religion to an extent, and the whole meaning of Christmas to me is so special.

The two year old is excited and has a mass of presents, and I can wait for him to open them, same for hubbo and our family, I love seeing people’s faces and reactions to Christmas presents.

Me, I’m not fussed if I get sod all.

But I do enjoy getting shit faced. 

Any other time of year, if you did a food shop at 6am and your trolley was piled high with copious amounts of alcoschmol, there would be serious looking people from certain organisations waiting at the checkout to check you into rehab.

But Christmas is amazing, for a whole week you can get really fucked up any time of the day and no one bats an eyelid. Siiiiick.

Starting now, on Salted Caramel Irish Cream Liquour, out of a measuring glass as I can’t find anything else, it’s lush, strong, and enhancing that warm fuzzy feeling.

Alcoschmol makes the chemical menopause and it’s vile hot flushes so much worse, I’m currently slightly sloshed cooking dinner and dancing to Band Aid running with sweat and burning alive from the inside out.

Sing that shit Bob Geldof, cheers.

Merry Christmas Eve all!


Christmas Eve-Eve…

What a day!

This was me at 5.45am:

Yep, outside Tesco waiting to do my Christmas food shop.  It was quite busy and I had had an awful nights aleep, I couldn’t see let alone function.

I was home and done by 7am and the brat was still asleep.

Obviously hubbo was at home with him, no need to call social services just yet…

We didn’t do a lot all day, despite there being shit loads of jobs to do I’ve been cold and aching all day.

I am switching to Fluoxetine for the Big D tomorrow, I’m slightly nervous but hopeful it’s going to help.

It’s been a lovely festive day, despite feeling poorly and exhausted, I can’t wait until Christmas Day is here and all the stress is gone, I love it I really do, but this year I just want to sleep.

There hasn’t been any substance to my blogs or hardly any swearing of late, I apologise for this.  I’m running on empty right now and I’m hoping a few days rest will recharge my batteries and I’ll be back to my usual sarcastic cussing self.

Peace, love, and all the usual gubbins…


Driving home for Christmas

Work is done for Christmas, woo!

The week before Christmas always frazzles my brain, so much to remember and do, and I’ve stupidly decided to do my Christmas shop tomorrow at 6am(ouch).

I can’t handle my own child when food shopping let alone when it’s busy, so I’m leaving him in bed and praying it will be quiet…

Today was pretty good, for three amazing reasons; I had Chinese food; I got given wine as a present; and I discovered RollerCoaster Tycoon Classic has been released on the iPad.

As a closet geek and a mega fat bitch plus an occasional pisshead, all of the above made me so happy!

Girls who game are generally deemed pretty sad, complete geeks, and there doesn’t seem to be much in the way of encouragement for girls to game.

I’ve loved games such as RollerCoaster Tycoon, Transport Tycoon and Theme Hospital since I was young; I couldn’t tell you why I love them so much, they just give me a warm happy fuzzy feeling. Lush.

I wish I could be like the hubbo and play games for hours but I have the attention span of an overexcited puppy, but the above games keep me occupied for hours and take me back to my yoof.

Watched ‘The Holiday’ last night with the hubbo, never seen it before and was surprised, it’s a lovely film, beautifully written and a unique story, we both enjoyed it and agreed it’s a warm fuzzy feel good film.

So the chemical menopause has got so shit it’s ridiculous, the hot flushes have been unbearable and I’m so tired and run down, I don’t know if it’s that/Big D/everything causing it or something else, who know.

Imagine being chilly, wrapped up in layers, brrrr.

And then someone sets you on fire. 

That’s exactly how it feels, but makes me feel queasy with it.

Doctor has recommended I try HRT to see if that helps, fingers crossed it does, I can’t keep stripping in public….

Bit of a lame one today, I’m shattered and need some zzz.

Nighty night.


Morning snuggles

I’m so tired it’s ridiculous.

Toddler kept waking, hubbo kept snoring, I am running on coffee and festive cheer.

Hmm. Just coffee then.

Day off today, I stayed up stupid late wrapping presents, and writing lists to make myself feel organised when literally I’m so disorganised this year I can’t handle it.

Meeting my mummy friends today to take the kids to soft play, which I’m hoping isn’t going to be stupid busy, I am barely in the mood for my own child let alone hoards of overexcited children on school holidays. Bah humbug.

An early wake up call of ‘mummyyyyyyy….poo?’ and a large coffee later, and we are having one of those treasured moments watching ‘The Snowman’.

I turn into a proper soppy shite with this film, I find it so magical, I get so teary.

It’s one of those moments where I remember the heartache of being told we couldn’t conceive naturally; the months of heartache; and then I thank my one lucky egg that our little miracle happened and how bloody lucky we are.

I will never forget that heartache, and every day I thank the big man upstairs(Him not the hubbo) for giving us W, miracles do happen.

I can remember watching this when I was younger and thinking how on earth do the parents sleep through all of that? They sneak into their room, ride a motorbike round the garden, and the parents just sleep on through.

My theory?  Bob and Deirdre(fuck knows if that is their names but we will go with it) had too much advocaat, went a bit crazy and passed out.

“Bob, what the fuck is that kid doing, is he riding your bike round the garden?”

“Fuck knows Deirdre, he can’t hurt himself, quick, go back to sleep and ignore it”.

We all do it, when baby/toddler/child wakes up in the night.  You are laying in the dark, hoping and praying that the snoring adonis next to you will wake up and go see to them.  You stick a foot out, brrrr it’s cold.  You keep waiting, hoping that they wake and see to the crying one.  Eventually, they wake up, and go and soothe the small one.  You think “yes, I’ve won”.

And then you need a piss.