The wonderful thing about keeping this blog, if nothing else, is that it enables me to closely monitor my hormonal cycle. I could have sworn it was only last week that I had my major I-want-to-kill-you-all day, but actually on checking my posts I see it was in fact on the 20th Feb, making it right on schedule now. So yes, once again, I am having my "time" when even the innocents need fear.
I'm not certain how much research is being carried out with regard to PMS. I know there are a million zillion jokes written about it, but in seriousness why haven't they found the cure yet? ('they' being those clever men in white coats). Surely we women, and humanity as a whole, deserve it. I dare say menstrual psychosis could one day become as big a killer in the civilised world as the other major contenders. Isn't it time then that the "prevent cruelty to humans - stop PMT" campaign began? Why don't we start one? Beginning perhaps with a national awareness day - we could make our own little pin badges out of lil-lets and some double sided sticky tape. Do leave the cellophane wrapper on though.
If I hadn't been feeling so jolly well doom and gloomy today then I may have actually enjoyed myself. I had my first taste of 'Waggadom' in the most unlikely of places - a slight dalliance with a premiership football player in a local primary school. Oh yes. Though when I say dalliance what I actually mean is a five minute conversation, but grant me some poetic licence here; after all if I don't grossly exaggerate my life it will just sound as unimpressive as it is!
He (Joe Hart) is friends with the chap (Gavin Cowan) who runs the football course Euan is attending during this half term; they having played for Shrewsbury Town together a few years back (Gavin and Joe that is, not Euan and Joe or Euan and Gavin for that matter. Common sense tells you that if Euan had been playing for Shrewsbury Town three years ago aged just nine he would by now be some kind of child prodigy. Child prodigy equals mega bucks, mega bucks equals liposuction, thigh lift, bum lift, breast enhancement and tummy tuck and all that equals why would I be sitting here writing the sad woman's guide to weight loss?) Anyway to cut to the chase Joe had agreed to come down to the venue today, chat with the lads, sign a few autographs and generally look important. So I went and checked him out, sorry I mean chatted to him myself at the end of the session. Of course he wanted to take things further, asked for my number, told me I was the sexiest baby momma he had ever encountered and offered to whisk me away from the drudgery of Telford life to the bright lights of Brum, but naturally I turned him down. What could I possibly want with a six foot three, blonde, handsome, rich, fit, young fella like that?
No, that Wag-gy life is not for me. The Colleens and the Poshes of this world being the very last people I would want to have to stand next to. I can't honestly think of anything I would hate more than living in the public eye and constantly being scrutinised. Ten weeks and I'd be a permanent guest at Hotel a la Betty Ford.
He (Joe Hart) is friends with the chap (Gavin Cowan) who runs the football course Euan is attending during this half term; they having played for Shrewsbury Town together a few years back (Gavin and Joe that is, not Euan and Joe or Euan and Gavin for that matter. Common sense tells you that if Euan had been playing for Shrewsbury Town three years ago aged just nine he would by now be some kind of child prodigy. Child prodigy equals mega bucks, mega bucks equals liposuction, thigh lift, bum lift, breast enhancement and tummy tuck and all that equals why would I be sitting here writing the sad woman's guide to weight loss?) Anyway to cut to the chase Joe had agreed to come down to the venue today, chat with the lads, sign a few autographs and generally look important. So I went and checked him out, sorry I mean chatted to him myself at the end of the session. Of course he wanted to take things further, asked for my number, told me I was the sexiest baby momma he had ever encountered and offered to whisk me away from the drudgery of Telford life to the bright lights of Brum, but naturally I turned him down. What could I possibly want with a six foot three, blonde, handsome, rich, fit, young fella like that?
No, that Wag-gy life is not for me. The Colleens and the Poshes of this world being the very last people I would want to have to stand next to. I can't honestly think of anything I would hate more than living in the public eye and constantly being scrutinised. Ten weeks and I'd be a permanent guest at Hotel a la Betty Ford.
Talking of which, anonymous the third has commented that my big reveal ("Hi my name's Bambi and I am twelve stone fat") was the first step to accepting the problem at hand. I must admit I really do feel liberated knowing that you all know and I don't have to skirt around the issue or lie about it. So yes I can see that potentially confessing all is a measure of progress. Not sure that I'm ready yet to confess to all of my other 'addictions' however. I just don't think we are able to advance to that level of intimacy right now....not until you buy me a ring anyway.
And so ends another day.
Night Night Rat Fans x x
Just caught up - pancake day today, start of lent tomorrow, choose a goal for 40 days, stick to it and impress us all!! Don't pick something too radical, just achieving something for whole of lent will be radical and impressive enough... So don't give up all chocolate - maybe just 'Reisens', or drink 2 litres of water a day, all at bedtime if you have to, 20 push ups before you go to the loo in a morning (which could be tricky if you did drink 2 litres before you got into bed) an apple a day for 40 days, some dried apricots instead of lunch 2/3 times a week, eat everything off Maisey sized plates and don't have 2nds, don't eat after 6/7pm but allow yourself a night off a week, once a week don't eat after 1pm, chew 4/5 pieces of gum every day (not all at the same time) to help prevent snacking, don't have butter on your bread except on a Sunday, only have porridge or shredded wheat for breakfast, pick 1 thing, tell us and do it, go on go on go on go on. (Fact is if you're "NEVER going to be happy at 12 stone" then you best start shedding some pounds 'cos you need to be HAPPY!) ("Men are that they might have joy" and all that) XXX
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