Well, that born again optimist was not to be trusted. As I was enjoying reconnecting with my good friends, hope and possibility, the bitch payback rudely showed up, and with her usual charm put an instant stop to the party. Apparently, my body needed some time to recover from its most recent black hole adventure. (Honestly, body, enough!) Much of the festive season was spent in bed, listening to meditations and dozing, whilst the sound of laughter and chatting drifted up the stairs. I dipped into the festivities as and when the energy allowed – to get fed if nothing else (and with two foodies in the house, getting fed was definitely worth the effort). I did my best to fix my face to Continue reading
Oh, how proud of myself I was: look at me, look at me, I’ve found acceptance, a place so elusive I was starting to doubt its existence, or wondered if it was simply by invite only, for the VIPs of life. But I made it! Me! And I allowed myself an extra serving of smugness for how well I was coping with everything, finding a way to be at peace with the situation, finding a way to hook-up with smiling and laughing each day. But… what’s that saying? Oh yes, pride comes before a big fat fall. Because life, being as hilarious as it is, greeted my newly declared smugness with a laugh so loud it echoed round the apartment, ‘oh yeah, you think you’re calm, relaxed and at peace with everything, let’s see what happens when…’
Hey my lovelies,
Just wanted to pop in and say hello.
Long time no blogging, eh… I blame my husband. He rudely gave me a bug a few weeks ago (note to Husband, I prefer presents, expensive presents) and I just can’t bounce back.
Oh yes, we’ve been here before, haven’t we? You know the drill: rest, rest, rest, go slightly crazy, eat Green and Black’s, drink wine, rest some more, find my inner Tigger, bounce back. Easy!
Tigger and I will see you soon…
Lots of Easter love to you all.
It was a tough few months, the CFS crash between April and August of this year, the days stuck at home plastered to the sofa. But I survived – just – and I was ready to enjoy my reward: normal life. I got over excited about being reunited with my trainers and enthusiastically jumped around the lounge, happy to hear Jillian Michaels shout at me; I started filling my diary with lunches, meals out, trips to the theatre, and weekends away; I reunited with my writing plans, determinedly working out my route from Blogger to Grazia. Continue reading
Despite my fear that one day soon, alarms will sound off as I enter Topshop, and a voice over a loud Tannoy will shout, ‘you are too old to shop here, please leave the store immediately,’ it is still on my shopping hit list. And I was in one of their changing rooms the other day, and I have to say, it was a fairly pleasant experience. I say fairly, because I’m not sure any of us take great pleasure from a close-up, full-length view of ourselves (especially when you take your jeans off and have that sexy sock and underwear look going on). But the lighting wasn’t too harsh and everything looked, well, okay.
Fast forward ten minutes, to the Marks and Spencer’s changing room, and there was nothing pleasant about the experience. The lighting was so bright Continue reading