A letter to you Ladybird ………..

Dear Miss Ladybird,

I hope you don’t mind me calling you that. Your only 10 years old and I want to tell you  few things about how to deal with those girls who are calling you fat.

They are twats, it’s probably not very politically correct for me to call them that. I think I am supposed to excuse their behaviour because they are only young. But I am guessing that they know right from wrong, and I am pretty sure they know the things they are saying are hurting you.

Let us not waste anymore time on them lets talk about you. Your mom said you’re not that happy with your body and that you want to lose weight. Darling, darling girl you are so much more than the words they are calling you.  You are funny, sensitive, kind, creative, and downright fabulous.

You cant see it now, you can only see the names they call you. I am not going to sugar coat it, weight goes up and down your whole life but you know what life is so much more than how you look. You are at a defining moment in your life sweet pea, and at 10 years old I am  guessing your thinking I’ve lost the plot by now.

You see you have a choice, You can choose to listen to these plonkers and spend the rest of your life believing that your weight defines you and is some sort of measure of success.

Or you can choose to not give two hoots what they say to you and remind yourself that whatever your weight is you are utterly fabulous and you have so much more than a number on a scale to offer the world.

I hope from the bottom of my own  fabulous heart you choose the latter, life is for living , loving , eating and unfortunately there are bigger challenges and tests in life as you become older than worrying about what some Hannah Montana wannabe said about you at school.

I know it hurts now, as a teacher I’ve often thought the playground is the biggest of bullies. It’s vast space and dark corners allow children to be so, so  cruel to each other without the prying eyes of teachers. But these comments and these people won’t matter to you in five, ten or fifteen years time. You are in charge of how these people effect and influence your life.

Don’t let them make you think anything less of your self than the 10/10 that you are. Beauty and success isn’t measured in dress size or on the scales little one. Those things are only impressive if your impressed by them. I am pretty sure you are more impressed by a pair of beautiful shoes and  Little Mix’s new song right now. And don’t ever let that change.

People  will always use weight as a first point of insult, we live in a society unfortunately that thinks that is the way to hurt someone. You know what would hurt me more, if someone said that I wasn’t kind, or that they thought I was selfish, or if they said my roast dinners were rubbish.

What I am trying to say beautiful girl is that no one in this world has the right to make you feel like you can’t love yourself. Weight, fat, whatever you want to call it is so unbelievably irrelevant in the scheme of life.

You are and will continue to be a fabulous young woman, don’t be defined by what these nasty Nancy’s are saying.

There is a saying that I wish I could tell you, but it contains a word that you’re not allowed to use, I am going to try to write it in a ten-year old friendly way

‘ She gave no hoots, not one, and she lived happily ever after’ when your 18 I am going to take you for a glass of Merlot and a bowl of chips and I will help you shout the adult version from the roof tops.

Until that day, next time they call you fat turn round to them and say ‘whether I am or not is none of your concern,  I am however fabulous, don’t forget that darlings’ xxx



It’s Like a Bowl of Spaghetti Bolognese’

It’s been a while.  The main reason for my absence is that the universe has blessed me with the most beautiful, intelligent and smart -arsed daughter you could hope for, oh and she doesn’t like to sleep. I mean really doesn’t like to sleep.  So whilst my daughter is playing tool boxes with daddy (toy one obvs Social Services) I am taking five minutes at 20:53  to write about something that has been playing on my mind for a while.

Not long ago one of my most beautiful and wonderful friends said something to me that got me in a thinking frenzy. I feel it is of the utmost importance to let you know that I actually don’t like many people but I love her to the shoe shop and back, I mean to be fair my circle is getting smaller by the minute. I can count on one hand the people I love and consider my ‘inner circle’. She is firmly rooted there and I hope she never leaves.

I do feel however that this is digressing and I am making a mental note to write my next blog post on ‘why I actually only have 3 friends’ a memoir by the most fabulous loner in the Village of Thorney.

So this friend said to me ‘ I love the fact you don’t know what you want to be when you grow up!’ and to be honest to the outside world I can totally see why she said that.

But the thing is I have always known.  I have wanted to put my head on my pillow every night and be confident that every decision or path I ever chose in that time was right for me. It was where I felt I was meant to be and that in turn gave me happiness and contentment. Obviously I don’t mean every night I go to bed like ‘ yes you are so smokin hot and totally winning at life girl’ Let’s take Saturday night I went to bed thinking why have I just eaten a kebab, when the onion will give me indigestion and I HAVENT EVEN BEEN OUT! At least I was drunk and found it hilarious, much to my husbands disdain!

My career and my life have been as zig zag as a bowl of Spaghetti Bolognese. But you know what, I have the most amazing stories to tell my daughter, students , basically anyone that will listen! and some experiences that have shaped me and changed me beyond belief. Only last week I have got a job in a place I never thought I would work, and you know what, it excites me. This world is constantly telling us we need to be or have  more, more money, more stuff, bigger houses, bigger cars, the promotions, the look, the perfect life.

But you know what, it’s only impressive if your impressed by this stuff.

I am impressed by people who know how to be happy and know when what they have is more than enough.

I wanted to write this post to all the other people out there who think they need to have it all figured out.

You have it all figured out right now. If your safe and warm and happy. If you’re rocking a fabulous outfit on a random Tuesday just because you can. If you’re make your decisions based on what is best for you and or your family right here and right now. Then you’re doing ok by me kid!






Why cant we say the word P****D?

Lately during my late night blog searching, internet stalking and newspaper reading, I have come across a very confusing subject. Why can’t anyone seem to call a period a period?

In a world where we are happy to call each other the most vulgar names referring to our most private parts why can’t we say the name of something that we all know happens to most women once a month!

So I am going to do something radical


There, one for every month of the year. Now whilst I am not going to update my various sources of social media when I am on my period, I am going to continue using the word as I can’t fathom out what the worlds problem is.

When I have eaten a whole bar of galaxy chocolate (mega size) I might even write on my blog  #bloodyperiod. #periodsarestupid #periodpainmadness or words to that effect.

Not that it generally comes up in conversation. But if it does I shall use the word ‘ Period’ and I shall teach my daughter to use the word to prevent such nonsense as

‘Mummy my lady flow is causing me grief, can you pass the chocolate biscuits?’


ps. I haven’t wanted to write about some of the names people call a period for fear of offence , but if you think lady flow, painters and decorators, or supporting Japan are suitable alternatives then can we have a chat? x



My Darling Girl

img_0351My darling girl, it was your birthday today. You announced to me at around 11am you like birthday’s and I could have one too.

Two years have passed since mummy was wailing in agony after being ‘induced’, only to find out it hadn’t actually worked at all. Much to the amusement of daddy, who then got the shock of his life as you were delivered by emergency caesarean. All very dramatic of course.

I knew in that first moment I saw you that you were going to be a special little girl. You see mummy isn’t a soppy mare, I have my moments when puppies are pulled out of wells etc. but on the whole I am more of a grand gesture kind of girl. But I want you to have these words my darling girl, then you can keep them forever.

You see you have changed me. I’m not talking about the four stretch marks I have or the wider hips. But in my heart. I am changing and becoming a better person everyday because of you. You have awoken a place in my heart and soul that I never knew existed. You have made me question it all and at the same time somehow confirmed it all for me.

I see in you bravery and wonder and a true enthusiasm  for life. You have reminded me that in this world of uncertainty and bad leggings there is always something to be excited about. You face all the challenges that life throws at you head on, your resilience is something I am so proud of.

Your ability to not be phased by anything and take it all in your stride is rubbing off on me. Sometimes when I am nervous or scared,  I know you might not believe me but mummies feel this too, I think what would you do. You’d have a quick check that the people who love you are around and you’d go for it. This is what I do and I will continue to do because of you.

When I look at you I feel like I did something right. When I look at you I want to burst with love and kiss you and cuddle you and tell you I love you a million trillion times. You have other ideas however and would rather I sang ‘Miss Polly had a dolly’ a million trillion times.

I would sing it a billion more if means you smile at me like you do.

I asked you the other day who is beautiful and you replied ‘I am’ and my darling girl you are, never ever forget that.

And remember my heart is yours, always x






Polyester Junction

Every morning when I leave my drive way I have a few seconds before I reach ‘polyester junction’ I call it this because its irritating and I don’t like it.

This morning was particularly busy for polyester, I can only assume that there was a sale on very expensive handbags or something. Any way, behind me waiting to also carry on her merry way,  was a lady in her car.

No I must make something clear, I had my daughter in the back of my car. The most precious thing to me and I make no apologies about putting her safety first.

After approx. 6 mins sitting at polyester waiting for a gap, merry lady starting dancing, well so I thought. Turns out she was flicking me the finger and shouting things that I care not to repeat on my blog.

This isn’t something I care too much about. But what I do care about is that at that moment in time I had some choices

1, Pull out and get hit by cars either side

2, get out the car and start dancing with her (metaphorically obviously)

3, Do nothing

Merry Lady also had some choices

1, Be patient and show some empathy for the situation at hand

2, flick the finger and shout obscenities

3, Do nothing

I chose to do nothing.

But the situation has played on my mind all day. Mainly I keep thinking to myself , what had happened in that merry lady’s life that morning to make her react like that? and when did we start thinking it is ok to lash out at each other over things that really, aren’t that big a deal. I’ve been  thinking about how I would explain her actions to my daughter (thankfully she was engrossed in her well known farm animal CD at the time). How I would explain that we live in a world were it seems  patience is no longer practiced and we seem to favour taking out our frustrations on others.

I realised that in that moment I wanted her to be on my side, in some kind of sisterhood act.

I wanted us to be nicer to each other.

I want that for the world my daughter lives in.







A Reply to the Daily Fail

There is an article in the Daily Mail titled ‘Struggling to lose your Baby Weight’

Its advice: give up coffee, get more sleep and eat less

Here is my response

 Dear Daily Mail

Bog off. If I want to survive on Diet Coke, coffee and salt and vinegar crisps I will.

If I am happy with my body and couldn’t give two shits about losing a bit of weight that I put on whilst growing the most precious thing in the world, then so be it.

If after my daughter needs me in the night, meaning I have only had 3 hours sleep, I have a Crunchie for breakfast then that is no one’s business but mine.

Stop bullying women into thinking they are doing it all wrong and making them question everything they put in their mouth.

Being a mom is hard enough without this crap everywhere we turn. We are doing an amazing job, and we all look bloody beautiful.


A very happy mummy x


A Woman of Age

This week has seen me be called ‘A woman of age’ and I am very curious as to what this really means. I don’t feel of an age. In fact I haven’t pondered my age since I was waiting to turn 18 so I could proudly share my ID with my younger best mate and guarantee her entry into the dirtiest club in town on a Thursday night, many moons ago.
Truth be told I couldn’t give two hoots about my age, of an age, young age , old age, middle age or the bronze age for that matter.
In fact the only age I’m concerned about is the maturity of my cheese and wine (and even that’s not true as I have been known to drink all wines and eat Primula cheese out of a tube. (google it it’s basically plastic in my opinion)
But what I do get to thinking about it is what is the obsession is with what age a woman is? Why should it matter what age I am?
I will put the situation into context for you. I was speaking with a friend about returning to work full time after an extended (very extended) maternity leave. I am not slating this friend at all as she was merely concerned as to if I was coping with the workload combined with parenting and running a house. But it seemed she may have been more concerned as I was doing a lot of stuff ‘of an age’

I am proud to be doing loads of stuff in my life and thankful that I am in a position physically and health wise to do it. I don’t ever want to get caught up on age and what it means I am capable of, but most importantly I don’t want to be limited by my age to what people think I may or may not be able to do. I take motivation from my daughter 20 months old determined to work out how you unlock the pump on my fake tan so she can put he cream on like mummy and I also take motivation from my 80 year old nan who following a hip operation was back at her hairdressers appointment the week after and I notice that age doesn’t cross my mind when I marvel at what both of these lovelies achieve in a day.

Next time someone says I am of an age I am going to reply yes , I am of a fabulous age!