Sunday, 24 January 2016

January Fat.

Being hungry is terrible.
Feeling fat is about as worse.
I think women feel the emotion behind weight differently to men. As a woman you feel upset and lack confidence because you don't match others or your own expectation of what you should look like, but you're so hungry, and you crave all the wrong things. Then you feel angry and upset that you can't have those things, you can't fill that empty space. If you struggle on it's exactly that...a struggle. If you cave then you're worse off than when you started because that packet of biscuits, that extra portion of fries, it all mounts on bit by little bit.
Why do we do this to ourselves? Is it really because the media presents us an idea we desperately want to match? Or because New Health Magazine says it's good for you and your health to change your lifestyle? Bullshit. Is it because we want someone to look at us and feel something positive? To be looked at and admired? Is that so shallow? Is it because the media and men and every second person out there has made us terrified of being undesirable?
I know for sure life seemed easier when I was a set, consistent size 8. But that was seven years ago, and if you learn anything growing up at the bottom of working class it's that nothing comes for free.

For me, I dislike my face. *Shrug* It is what it is...people didn't call me ugly for the first eighteen years of my life for nothing. I wouldn't agree with ugly, that's harsh. Plain is a kinder word. I can't afford surgery, and yes...I would pay to change my face if I could so knock that judgemental expression off your face if you disagree with cosmetics. I can change my body. I've kind of thought since I turned nineteen that if I kept my body looking "Woah!" then it would distract from what's going on above the shoulders.

I have my ups and downs you know...sometimes I feel fine about my body, but it only takes one person to make you feel fat and suddenly you're bothered by this idea daily. I've put on two extra inches around my middle section. This may not sound like much but it's the difference between being comfortable with your stomach and not daring let it peep out to the public! Your skirts get longer, your sweaters get bigger and you shrink in on yourself like a turtle.

This is what has spurred my January change. Someone's made me feel overweight and the measuring tape has confirmed the boogie man of pounds has sneaked up on me over winter. I'm babbling, I know. I just needed to get this out. I'm so hungry. I'm angry that this extra weight doesn't feel ok. I'm upset that while wearing my favourite dress last night I continuously felt conscious of what those extra inches looked like. Going to wrap this up now...I've ranted, I can't count how many women are likely out there this January feeling similar and are right now unsatisfied and hungry for something. You are not alone. I am not alone in this.

Friday, 8 January 2016

It's shit.

It's shit.

What else is there to say? I'm not really in the mood to rant on for a page and a half.
I'm so glad it's Friday, I feel like it's taken a lifetime to get here.

I'm totally pissed off right now, with just about everything, even this stupid sodding McAfee app that wont un-install on my computer and continuously asks me to renew. Sod off!

In fact the only person who hasn't pissed me off right now is out of the country. I'll have to get used to that, my wild Pidgeon is a flyer! Already wish you were back, because as I said, I still like you and I need advice.

Tonight I miss the days when my biggest concern was remembering my homework and how the hell I was going to get that love letter back from that year 10 hottie! (I never did get it back) God that was embarrassing. Those days I had time to put things off, now I feel like I'm running out of time. And now the mouse-pad of my laptop isn't working. -Bloody Hell!

There's only one answer. There's only ever one answer that I have: I need to finish writing one of my books.

Sunday, 3 January 2016

Happy January, year 2016

For the second year running I am starting a new job in January. While I'm certain I'll draw on the skills I developed in my last role, I can only hope I don't have to face the same challenges this time around. I'm keeping an open mind, and remaining positive, after all, what other choice do I have?

The pirate ship I was on for my last job has given me a tainted view of 'The Workplace', one I hope will be proven as an anomaly. This new role is only temporary, I'm keeping that in my mind in case the role drives me crazy as I have little doubt it will.

My brother thinks I need to accept the life I have. By that he means: stop putting so much focus on dreams. Get used to the thought-numbing day-to-day process that is average life. I know what he's getting at, he thinks I'm prone to depression in later life when the dreams are still in the clouds and my feet are on the ground. He's grown to believe the dreams are unachievable, because none of us, my brothers, my dad, and I have ever been satisfied with ordinary life. We crave more, the American Dream. The freedom. Seaside homes and work that's a hobby.

My brothers have more than ten years on me, they have set out paths for themselves that cannot be re-directed in any which way. I suppose I have too, in some areas, but I refuse to accept reality. I've said it so many times, they don't believe me, and Hell sometimes I don't believe it myself but times like that I have to give myself a stern talking to: "I'm a doer, not a dreamer"
I will accomplish everything I set out to do.
I jumped out of a plane at 15,000 feet. One of my biggest goals and one of my first. I will not settle for this average exsistance that suits so many others. I will conquer.

So this new job is temporary.
I'll publish my books, I'll build my own business and give it a good go, I'll tick every box on my list.

The mundane day-to-day, the weekly supermarket run, the bus timetable, the counting pennies is not my life, it's just a small part of surviving.
My life is new experiences, it's heart pumping while riding a horse, floating in water bluer than Aftershock, inhaling clouds at 15,000 feet, it's taking something plain and crafting it into a thing of beauty. I'm alive when I'm discovering, when I'm writing, when I'm in the clouds.

Happy January, year 2016...I have another year of dreams to tattoo onto my soul.