Monthly Archives: January 2016

I Choose to Lose.

For many years I have let New Years Eve come and go without the resolutions. Why? Drunk people make stupid choices.

But as 2015 came around I decided that I should become a non smoker. It kind of worked. I am not perfect, and wont pretend I have not cheated. But it backfired on me and I gained a kilo a month shoving other things in my gob instead of the fags and before your dirty mind turns to the gutter, I would have been better off doing what you are thinking and my hubby would be super happy.

The mirror reflection is the truth.

The mirror reflection is the truth.

Now it is 2016, 8 days in. I have chosen to become even more healthy and shed those nasty kilos the hypnotist toldme I would not put on (liar, liar pants on fire).

I hear all the talk about fat shaming and embracing your body and I dig what you are all saying.

I don’t hate my body. I am a sexy hot lady. It would be awesome if the mirror and photos reflected this image.

There are 5 things I am struggling with.

1-My thighs rub together. Not the way that they did when I wore cords in the eighties, groovily swooshing out the sound of my footsteps. Those fuckers are so fat they stick together on a hot day and almost trip me over.

2-I struggle to wipe my own arse. Thank the heavens I do yoga so I can stretch and reach and get that job done.yoga

3-My boobs are trying to escape from my shirts. I mean seriously. Getting the girls out is nothing new to me, but I used to have to undo the buttons for them, now they seem to have found a secret tunnel to freedom.

4-I cant see under my belly. My 7 year old daughter is now in charge of telling me when I have stray hair that needs to go.

5-They actually told me I am a bit fat!!! I have my kids very well trained. If I say something like “silly old mum” they instantly tell me “You’re not old Mum”. They used to follow it up with “You’re not fat”, but more recently I got a sheepish sideways head tilt, with “You’re a little bit fat”. Kids don’t worry about hurting feelings. What they say is true.

I am still deciding on the best plan of attack as to how I am going to get rid of the blubber. I have considered stapling my lips together, developing a drug addiction or returning to the hospitality industry (for those who don’t know, in hospitality exercise is constant and the sight of food becomes repulsive at times).

For now I think I will take the easy way out and try auto-suggestion. “I think I am fit and thinner, therefore I am”. When the kids go back to school I will get tougher on myself. I promise. Did you hear that me? Yeah right, what’s for lunch?

 

From the Perfect Daughter in Law

Found this post in my drafts from back in August 2014. Probably time to share it….

I have just read this blog How to be the Perfect Daughter in Law. According to your new mum on ivilliage. I think the rules are fair and valid, however If this were written by my MIL, this is how I would respond. .

 

1. Don’t tell me how I “am welcome any time” and then rant on your social media thingie about how I am “always at your house and up in your business.” 

No, I wont. You are welcome anytime, please help yourself to a cup of tea and feel free to hang out with your grandchildren. Ranting on social media will not help either of us.

And remember one thing, when I moved in with your son, he never let you into his home, it is only because of me you ever got past the front door.

2. Answer the damn phone! 

Ring my fucking mobile!!!

When the landline rings, it’s only going to be you, my grandma or a telemarketer. It is an old fashioned landline, with a cord, yes you heard me, a cord! At least if you ring my mobile I can multi task whilst looking after your son and grandchildren.

3. As much as I adore my grandchildren, I am not your free ticket to eternal childcare. 

Fair call. I totally agree.

4. Act like the adult you purport to be, and don’t bitch about me behind my back. 

Don’t give me a reason. I wont bitch. Simple really.

5. Passive-aggressiveness is still aggressive. 

Meh!

6. Don’t buy me clothes or décor for gifts, if they are drastically different than what I own. 

Easy done. Lucky you get the same thing, birthday and Christmas, every time, you like it, I know what to buy, win win all round.

7. It’s my money, so please let me spend it.

It’s not about the money. Please spend as much of your own money as you wish. It is also not about how cheap you got something for. It is about giving the children a sense of anticipation or earning when they are given gifts. A small trinket two weeks before a birthday kind of ruins the birthday countdown.

It is about being surrounded by crap that I am expected to pick up all the time, or yell at the children to pick up, sure as hell it isn’t very often your son who does this chore. You then have to consult with us on what to buy, or ask us to purchase gifts on your behalf, because the spoilt little shits have every fucking toy known to man.

8. I want my son/daughter to be happy and have a happy marriage, but know this: I am the mother. 

Are you giving me permission to blame you for all of his slight imperfections?

9. Speaking of, you DO realise that I successfully produced an offspring that grew into such an amazing adult that YOU decided to marry and have children with…right?

Yes I do. The best advise my grandmother gave me when you were really pissing me off was, always think of her as the mother of the man you love, if it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t have him.

10. Contrary to what you might think, I am not trying to control you or judge you. 

Once you have shared your opinion or advice, understand I have heard you. You do not need to keep telling me, I really have heard it. Whether I choose to listen or not is up to me. If I should have listened, I will acknowledge that. But please refrain from discussing this with my friends in the street.  Do you think they like it when you judge me to them? They are my friends, they love me more than you and yep, you guessed it, they tell me what you have been saying about me.