A big hairy long one

When I  was 25 I went on a diet , a proper one, where I stuck to a certain weight loss plan , I attended meetings where all we talked about was food and I jumped around a cold sports hall in the name of Zumba on a Sunday morning.

And I lost all of 3.6lb in four months. The leader of the certain weight loss plan suggested I go and visit my GP. And it was here my journey to PCOS  (poly cystic ovary syndrome) began. It’s not so much the PCOS that’s relevant to my journey But a statement from the doctor on that first visit might be something that holds me back and makes me think I have an excuse.

It isn’t easy to go into a doctors little room and say ‘the thing is I am fat, I’m on a diet honestly I am, and I’m not losing weight can you help?’ Also mr doctor I’ve got these long black hairs growing at the speed of light out of my chin. To the point where I carry a set of tweezers in a pouch in my bra (and there were a few near misses I can tell you!)  I sat in front of this man and told him my woes and you know what he said

‘ some women are just fat and have hairy chins, you may have to accept that you are one of them’

yep that’s right he actually said your fat and hairy get on with it. So I did what any self -respecting woman would do I turned to him and said ‘ brilliant , you’ve you been most helpful’ and I went home and my husband did the only thing he could and that was to get me a bottle of wine and a Chinese.

Obviously I went to another doctor got a proper diagnosis and went on with my life.

I know the part about hairy chins to be true, there is a hair out there fondly called Spike, he comes to visit one of my friends fairly often, there’s also the mystery of how they grow so fast, and I believe Adele may have a beard called Larry.

But what has stuck with me is this comment and how it’s stayed with me engrained in my mind and when I’m finding it tough and a kebab is calling I kind of let myself off the hook because maybe I’m meant to be fat. I’ve always been called ,curvy, voluptuous or in the words of my actual husband ‘a chubby little angel’. There are other comments too like the time my sister shouted at me across the clothes rails in New Look ‘ you’ve lost your fashion sense’ or the time one of my male friends told me he was shocked that my England football top still fitted me 4 years after the World Cup.

Bearing in mind I don’t think  any of these people, including that delightful doctor ,realised that they have left me with these words swirling around every time I struggle or have a lapse.

I would also put my Jimmy Choos on whoever is reading this could write me a list of all the comments or engrained words that go round their heads in these moments , it doesn’t have to be about weight, it might be a facial feature, a scar, or a choice of clothes.

The power of words is so crucial in how we view ourselves and what we believe to be true. So I’m going to do a little experiment.

I’m going to try telling myself I am beautiful or I look nice  or that a colour suits me anything , just something positive everyday to see if that works the same.

I am going to open up my ears to positives, if someone says anything nice about me I am going to write it down and I’ll post it on here in a weeks time. Then maybe these comments  will boot the horrid ones up the behind.

Your chubby little angel X

(ps I seem to have only been to the gym twice in the past two weeks but have managed to eat a whole Easter egg, must try harder 😘)




I’ll have the vegetarian option….




After the jolt I got to thinking about all the silly things I’ve done in the past to loose weight or appear as one of the cool kids.

I would also like to point out that my best friends have also joined me in these antics as not to appear completely deranged.

I feel revisiting these moments and sharing them is vital to my journey as I need to remind myself that the road to loving me again doesn’t need to involve anything on this list:

Diet Coke and Marlboro light diet

This single handily has to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. One meal a day and as many Diet Cokes and Marlbro lights as you can handle. I can assure anyone reading this the only thing you loose is money, health and time. Time wasted with migraines,moods and tiredness. Money wasted on cigarettes, think of the tubs of St Moritz (cheap copy of St Tropez fake tan that is actually amazing ) I could have brought.

Only eating carbs on a Sunday

Wasn`t my worst idea but God it was boring and gave you a mega pregnancy bloat on a Monday……

Weighing your self after a poo

Did you know you can weigh up to 3lb lighter after doing the necessary.  Ask one of my best mates, one of the happiest days of her life was when she ate a Macdonalds did a number two then weighed herself. She had lost 1lb!

Having a Vegetarian few years 

Now this in my opinion was utter bonkers and I look back with the same cringing feeling as the time I thought that an all khaki outfit with gold boots to my mid calf was a winning outfit choice. I have aptly named it ‘the vegetarian years’

Now I genuinely gave up meat for approximately a year during my teens. Enraged at the treatment of animals and wanting to have something that set me apart from ,in my eyes at the time ,my mundane 2.4 family. My mother took this in her stride and just served me everything they were eating minus the meat, no questions were asked about gravy juices or potato fat in those days. This lasted officially for about a year then  there was an incident with a bacon sandwich in secret with the light off .

Of course around this time a boy came along.

And with said boy came the famous line ` I think your amazing being a vegetarian your so unique and I love how you stand up for what you believe in’

If only he knew that’s all balderdash. I was a secret meat eater. I’m currently in hysterics writing this as its farcical isn’t it. I was so busy being this cool and sophisticated individual that I casually overlooked the fact I was in fact a red blooded carnivore!

So said boy thinks I am amazing and tells all his family how I will need my food specially preparing for the first meal with them. And this ladies and gentlemen is where I had to force my self to eat a bowl of what can only be described as rubber meat substitution passed of as fake chicken, whilst everyone else enjoyed my favourite Spaghetti Bolognese. I wept inside and that wasn’t the only reaction going on inside if you know what I mean. So from then on I was a vegetarian apparently , turning down Bbq`s , sneakily eating my moms delicious shepards pie after a night in the pub and gorging like a pig on crack on cheeseburgers in secret. My best friend used to taunt me over the dinner table when we all lived together with said boy for a while asking me if I ever fancied a sausage or a nice chicken bap ‘ oh no ‘ I replied ‘I just couldn’t bear it’ n

She used to say she was in awe of my commitment. But luckily she would then take me to the drive thru for a fix in the early hours . That’s a real best friend right there.

The worst time of all in the vegetarian years , was one Christmas Day. A delightful sister in law ,so pleased to have someone to share her nut roast with ,sat next to me at the dinner table and to my horror this genuine sincere herbivore caught me,the vegetarian fraud , staring at the golden, roasted, basted, vision of heaven , beautiful turkey ,and yes a little bit of drool was present , she calmly put an arm around me and said ‘ aren’t we lucky we don’t have to eat that !’

No love!!!! I’d give my right arm ,your left leg and possibly (possibly) one of Jimmy Choos for a turkey sandwich with salad cream!

It was truely exhausting and it taught me a valuable life long lesson:

No boy is worth missing out on your Christmas dinner for .

The point is none of these silly things worked nor did they make me happy.

This week I have pledged to three gym classes , the reason for this is that this actually used to make me happy. I used to be a weirdo who enjoyed excercise. So as the journey hots up I am now going to be the girl with the procedure in two more classes!

Wish me luck and promise me you’ll never try any of these methods to make your self happy X



Why can’t I just want to be me?

Sometimes in life things happen and it totally jolts you. A bit like when you hit your bum on the corner of a table and the pain is excruciating yet logic tells you it shouldn’t hurt one bit. My jolt came whilst trying to achieve an ombré hair style and convincing my self my toe wasn’t broken (in fact it was and I’m sure the swelling is the reason I’ve put on 0.5lbs!)

I need to explain to you about my hairdresser. She is a total cow. (Well at least this was what my judgemental and tiny mind used to think)

The reason she is a cow is because she is one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen and coupled with this she is by far one of the nicest people I have ever met in my life. She has a figure I would attempt to give up crisps for and don’t get me started on her perfect ,to the point of sick in my mouth,mane of lovely ashen locks. When I first met her I spent most of the time thinking how wonderful it must be to be beautiful and slim. She doesn’t wear a cloak of invisibility I thought, oh how happy she must be.

So a few appointments later and she is over at mine helping me to achieve some sort of hair colour that belongs in this century, and we get talking. She explains to me how she has to edit her pictures a million times before she will let any one see them online, she explains how she has a crippling anxiety over what people think of her and that her relationship with food is no better than mine. She tells me about how she used to be confident and doesn’t know where it’s gone. Then this lovely and kind woman says:

`Why can’t I just want to be me?`

And I feel like someone has ripped my waxing strip off my top lip without warning. No no no! I want to cry you have to want to be you because your everything I am convincing my self I should be and millions of women everyday are busting their bras to be like you!!!

And there it is ,the question I wander if anyone can answer `why can’t I just want to be me?` I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this question. I’ve been thinking about all the times when I was younger and I was proud of being me and I could look at a women like my hairdresser and think yeah your a babe but so am I.

I think about the years I genuinely didn’t care what others thought of me and I am drawn back to my hairdresser telling me the same.

Ladies when did it change? It makes me angry at myself that I lost so must admiration and pride for me. And it makes me just as sad to see a beautiful ,smart, intelligent women with a pot of hair dye in her hand telling me she doesn’t much like herself either.

Since that night something in me changed, the jolt, it smacked me round the face just enough to make a few trails of self respect awaken in me. Since then I’ve made a promise to myself not only am I going to get my wow back but I am going to want to be me.

I’ve had a tan and I’ve done my hair for two weeks using my sleep in curlers because I like myself when I have big hair and an in your face orange tan. I haven`t done it for anyone else but me and you know what, I reckon for at least a third of these two weeks I have actually been ok with being me.

I hope my hairdresser reads this and I hope that she has some days soon when she can say ‘ I want to be me’ And I want to apologise for thinking she was a cow, because deep down we all just want to like ourselves

your fatty x