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Pretty in pink

i had my nails done today, first time in years and i had forgotten how good it makes me feel.

i lef t with pretty pink nails, and i feel fabulous now

A planned binge

Yep, you read that right. I am planning to binge.

Hubs is away on Saturday for a few weeks for work, which means a couple of things

  1. I will have complete control of the TV viewing and I shall binge the programmes I want to watch.
  2. To the tune of Sinead O’Connor’s “Nothing compares 2U”; “I can eat whatever I want’
  3. I can also dress like a slob, or not get dressed at all and just laze around in pyjamas, after walking the dog – also in pyjamas
  4. I don’t need to brush my hair, or my teeth or shower for days on end if I don’t want to

Thus I shall be watching Yellowstone and Hawkeye, both of which have been recommended to me and new to me’ Lincoln Lawyer’. I will catch up with Meredith Grey and her band of merry doc’s. I will watch Heartstopper and a romantic comedy movie – this will undoubtedly be something I have already seen that makes me feel good and cry about the fact that my life does not have the same level of romance in it, although my husband loves me very much. He is just not a ‘throw rose petals on the bed’ kinda guy. His OCD would kick in at the mess and he would whip the hoover out, whatever my state of undress at the time.

I will be binging on food too. I have a bad relationship with food but this is a planned binge. I have already purchased tubs of ice-cream, chocolate, chewy sweets, white chocolate chip cookies and some cake as well as my favourite chicken crisps. I also have crumpets so I can eat those absolutely dripping with butter.

As for meals, I will eat the things he doesn’t like. Cauliflower cheese and chips, carbonara with garlic bread to mop up the creamy sauce and the aforementioned crisps in a butty. I may even go the fishfinger sandwich – I have it with butter on one slice of white bread and peanut butter on the other. Bloody delicious.

The aim is to stuff my fat cheeks for the weekend and then on Monday to get back to moving my slug like body a bit – this may just be jiggling about to some tunes in the house or perhaps I will actually use my gym membership and lift a weight or two. And, I will get back on track with food. This involves throwing out any of the leftovers from above including sweets and chocolate. this is wasteful I know and I don’t actually throw it in a bin, I donate it to the neighbours kids. Still, it is wasteful in terms of money. I can’t actually have the stuff in the house post-binge though or it will go on for a week.

I know that not getting dressed. is the height of laziness but fuck it, there will only be myself and the dog and she couldn’t give a shit what I am wearing as long as she has her walks.
so, for two days i shall be an unwashed pyjama’d skank with dripped ice cream down her cleavage and i can’t fucking wait



Is language good and bad? Isn’t swearing or profanity just the use of language that some may find unacceptable?

I like a good swear word. I use them daily and don’t even realise I am using them unless someone is being judgemental and points it out to me. I use all of them. The word cunt is liberally sprinkled throughout my day and I couldn’t give a fuck about the amount of fucks I utter. I genuinely don’t understand why a swear word is offensive. I mean I get that some words should never be uttered either because it is culturally inappropriate to do so or is offensive because of the connotations.

But I cannot see why some words have just become so outrageous. It isn’t even about context is it? If you said for example ‘I fucked my boyfriend last night’ that appears to be as offensive as saying ‘I don’t fucking believe it’. Should we say made love even when that is the exact opposite of what happened? Can we use them for emphasis? Should we just miss them out altogether and remove them completely from language?

As for the C word itself. Is it better to say I have a hairy vagina than I have a hairy cunt? And why? There seems to be a scale for the offensivity of swearwords. Bloody and shit are fairly mild with cunt being the ultimate bad girl of profanity.

Should we simply know our audience and tailor our speech to the occasion? But this is surely self-censorship and that can’t be right can it?

this really does fucking perplex me


My Pod

I am crap at this.

I just cannot complete an outfit with the right jewellery. I have a ton of cheap, crappy but fun earrings/bracelets/necklaces and rings but despite following the coolest accessorisers on insta I just cannot get it right.

I know there must be a way to do it, I also know this is very much a first-world problem. I need to nail it though as it is one of my resolutions for this year. Alongside being able to wrap presents beautifully. They always look like the dog did them with her tail! But that is another challenge

I suppose I could go the dog under the arm route and distract everyone with her cuteness. This sounds like the perfect plan except she weighs in at 32 kilos and doesn’t like to be touched by strangers

I am off to google accessories and will plan and plan my looks around them only to fail and fail

A Fat topic

A ‘friend’ recently asked me if my bingo wings bothered me as I often wore sleeveless tops. What fucking bingo wings??? It had never occurred to me that I had them. I mean I know my arms are not the Angelina Jolie-esque toned limbs that they once were (ok, they never quite were that toned) but they aren’t easily confused with blancmange either. Now, I cannot stop jiggling them about and worrying about them. Does anyone else care? No. Everyone else is too busy worrying about their jiggly bits, the bits that have dropped an inch or two, the cankles, the muffin top, saddle-bag thighs, spaniels ear tits to give a flying fuck about my bingo wings.

Why? Why do we torture ourselves with images of perceived perfection? Why do we feel we have to half kill ourselves at a gym, contorting ourselves into positions not made for man nor beast whilst holding metal weights? Do we honestly think that once we achieve the weight pinnacle we have set for ourselves (but, determined by unrealistic societal values that we subscribe to) we will achieve Nirvana and be forever happy?

Let me tell you now that losing weight will not miraculously remove all of the other problems from our lives. We won’t suddenly love our jobs, stop arguing with our partners/parents/kids, our financial worries will not miraculously disappear either. Yes, it will feel great to get into those jeans, to pull them up over a smooth, flat stomach but that feeling will disappear as soon as you get to the pub that lunchtime and realise that you can’t eat the chicken in a basket, can’t nibble the bread or have pudding because if you do, if you take one tiny step onto that slippery food slope you will slide back into old habits and kiss those jeans goodbye.

The cure for this is BIGGER JEANS.

Be a better friend, a nicer person, tell funnier jokes, learn a skill, exercise because you have found something you love to do, laugh, love, live your life and don’t worry unduly about the size of your jeans

Sweet peaches slathered with spicy barbeque sauce and grilled are the perfect addition to any summer barbeque!

OH MY! Gamechanger

The Fat Chefs

Sweet peaches slathered with spicy barbeque sauce and grilled are the perfect addition to any summer barbeque!

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Impending Death

Well, that is slightly misleading depending on your definition of impending. I am not about to keel over and leave this mortal realm anytime soon – I hope!

But, I have been somewhat obsessing about how much time I waste. I recently tracked a week in my bujo and the bulk of it was spent doing little of anything productive, informative or even fun. Just sitting on my arse half watching Netflix whilst scrolling on my phone endlessly looking for a nugget of decent content on my socials, whilst simultaneously stuffing my fat face with peanut M&Ms. With this in mind I took to wondering about how I could best spend the years I have left. This in turn led me down the rabbit hole of just how much time was left.

I used the great God of Google to help me. I was thus informed that from Friday 13th May, if I live to be 85 years old, I have 1426 weeks left. This left me stunned. It really doesn’t seem like very many at all. If I eat out once a week that is 1426 meals out, If I get pissed once a week, then only 1426 drunken nights remain in my life, should I have a bar of chocolate, great sex, meet friends, once or twice a week – well you get the idea. And don’t get me started on holidays – one a year would leave me with only 28 to go. Which 28 places do I choose out of those I would love to see? Ditto, the bucket list. How many can I get done? Not many of anything left is there?

I decided I would make a note – and by note, I mean a chart of my time left. I actually found some on the internet but decided to make my own. If you are interested I have already lived 3009 of the 4435 weeks available to me. I shall post a pic of the chart once it is finished. My daughter told me it was a bad idea to track this as it would leave me obsessing about death. But it is having the opposite effect. I am obsessing about life. I want to fill those 1426 weeks with something other than grocery shopping and ironing. So, I am determined to live my best life every day – that said the dog isn’t well so I am off to the vet now, well it can’t all be rainbows and laughter can it?

the year of undieting

just now, commenting on fat tarts blog – sorry I don’t know how to link but I shall learn, I remembered that I didn’t post about this.

Every New Year I make resolutions. I love them. The thought of new beginnings, reinvention, change – it fires me up. Every year, somewhere near the top of that list it says ‘lose weight’. EVERY YEAR.

Something had to change as my weight goes up and down like a whore’s knickers so this year I decided I would not weigh myself. I stepped on the scales on Dec 31st 2021 and shan’t do it again until Dec 31st 2022. I believed that the reason I was forever gaining back the lost weight and adding a few pounds on top was because I was weighing every week and either rewarding a loss with a cake or commiserating a gain with a cake. Not rocket science is it?

It is now the beginning of May and I have kept this resolution. Have I lost weight though? Inches perhaps? Not a fucking chance. My clothes don’t fit, even elasticated waistbands are getting noticeably snug. So, I have rejoined the gym. I go today, in half an hour to be precise. I am looking forward to it as it is a change I need to make for fitness not just weight and it is a random change being 5 months in to the year.

Wish me luck, for I shall need it

gone blonde

I did it!

To clarify, my hair has been dyed blonde for some years now so I have moved on to other parts – NO you dirty minded lot, not that body part! Jeez, what is wrong with you??

I have dyed my eyebrows blonde – it was weird at first but now I bloody love them. Keep getting told that I look younger than my almost 60 years so that is a bonus. And, I can easily powder them to any colour I choose for a night out. Gonna try a rainbow brow soon

Shoulda done it years ago

So, why are we here?

I have been thinking, a lot, about this lately. I veer into despair at the thought of it all being for nothing but I can’t see an actual purpose. They say we are only remembered for a couple of generations unless we do something of note – good or bad – personally I think bad people are remembered by more people than good.

Of late I have been thinking about simulation theory, particularly where everything in your own life exists only for you. when it is out of your line of sight it ceases to be. Could this be the case? And, if so, does that mean I can just behave as selfishly as I please because it really isn’t hurting anyone as they don’t exist, except for my pleasure or to teach me some random lesson. It is so confusing that it makes my head hurt and I reach for the G&T.

Someone told me that when we die we go to heaven and all of the people that loved us that have died are there waiting, but what about those that loved us that we didn’t love back? Are they there with open arms? Or is the multiverse real and they are only there in the heaven where we do love them back? There are people that I certainly don’t want to see again; even after I die.