Woman of the Week…

This week’s marvellous female specimen is Ruby Tandoh. I actually came pretty late to Ruby party, but I intend to make up for lost time. Ruby is the no bullshit baker we all need in our lives. 


Ms Tandoh obviously came to public attention on The Great British Bake Off. She didn’t win the show, but she was excellent in every way. Every single one of her 5 million facial expressions were endearing & I totally related to her stressing. It goes without saying that she made some tasty shit, but the best was still to come. 

It wasn’t until I found her on twitter that her true glory was revealed. Ruby is a kick arse intersectional feminist. She tweets about important matters from LGBTQ issues, fat phobia & ableism to popular culture & politics with the kind of blunt clarity I admire. She calls out the sell out tactics of other chefs who jump on the healthy eating bandwagon. All the while writing joyfully about food (& various other things) in her Guardian column & books.

Ruby had no fear in taking on the big names. She has been savage in her take down of Jamie Oliver & clean eating quacks Ella Mills & The Hemsleys. She skillyfully disects the dangers of healthy eating fads whilst highlighting why they are so problematic. 


Her recent contribution to Do What You Want a zine about mental well being has pushed her even further in my estimations. The zine includes a variety of pieces on all aspects of mental health. It covers perhaps less talked about issues like accessing treatment as non binary person & mental well being from a refugee stand point. This all round excellent publication also donates all of profits to mental health charities. I believe it is now sold out, but check the website for details. 

Ruby Tandoh seems to be that rare thing of a ‘celeb’ who puts her money where her mouth is. Her feminism is inclusive of the groups so often exclude from mainstream white feminism; sex workers, non binary people, POC, fat women, the disabled & so on. Her life seems to genuinely reflect her spunky public persona. This is a woman worthy of our respect. 

If all that wasn’t enough she is hilarious. We’re talking about the chick who refused to work with Piers Morgan by calling him ‘sentient ham’. Oh & she wasn’t fucking sorry about it. 


Can we have a standing ovation for Ruby?

A week (ish) in pictures…

It’s been more like 3 weeks & they haven’t been the most productive. I finally painted my nails today & I have some appointments set up this week for oPeration BoPo. Life goes on & so do I. So, there will be more exciting & uplifting posts coming soon. For now, here’s a wee photographic glimpse at my quiet days. 


Bright days, escapist movies & lunches with my sis have been soothing.


Spring flowers & spring cleaning (it still counts if you pay someone to do it, right?) have helped with that starting over feeling. Pretty skys, my pretty cat & effective drugs have also done their thing.


Easter treats, thrifting, lazy days & random sights have helped to ward away the deep blues. My puss cat in both snuggle & grump mode is a tonic. Oh & look at my nephew’s face; it doesn’t get more life affirming than that. 




Rest, dancing light in my home & the beauty of my own fat arse have given me a boost this weekend.  I’m hoping it will carry me through the week.

After all, as Scarlett O’Hara would say, tomorrow is another day. 

Keep on keeping on…

It doesn’t make any sense, but I think before I went into hospital I had fragments of hope. Delusions might be a better word. I knew the pregnancy was over, but a part of me hadn’t accepted it. I couldn’t bring myself to take any pain relief, sleeping pills etc because I felt that I’d be betraying my child. Even as I write these words they aren’t comprehensible. My thinking just seems crazy. 

Now, I feel certain it’s over. That’s awful, but necessary. Accepting that intervention was essential has given me a sense of finality that I needed.

The flip side of that is the very things that brought about that clarity will be with me forever. I’ve already had some nightmares consisting of images that also intrude on my waking hours. 

Delicate grey tissue & stained blue gloves.

Bright red urine samples & bloodied speculums.

Flashes of gore have imprinted themselves on my already traumatised brain. I don’t know how to wipe it clean.

I think I am ok & then I’m just not. I feel fragile & sad.

But

Also so angry.

There’s nowhere to put this fury. I was doing alright. Life was a manageable feat with some unexpectedly sweet incentives. Now it’s tip toeing & coaxing myself into normal. Often, it’s trying not to want that baby more than I want to breathe.

Ultimately, it’s all very simple. I just keep going. One day at a time, right? Weird that the biggest, emptiest seeming cliches are what get you through. 

Splish, splash…

Recently I have been spending my Sunday mornings watching my nephew’s swimming classes. He’s 11mths old, so there is more splashing than anything else, but he’s fun to watch. Afterwards I get a little cuddle time, which is even nicer. 

Last time I took the opportunity to get some outfit pictures. You might remember this dress from my wish list. I really loved it’s cut out back & I can never have too many skater dresses. It was actually in the sale, so I went ahead & bought it in red too. 


The weather was lovely when I left the house. Alas, by the time we’d made it to river for photos, it was blowing a gale. The wind was ice cold & my discomfort is written all over my face. I’m not miserable just really cold. 



Dress – Asos Curve

Scarf – Gift

I highly recommend the dress (the red is equally nice), wearing it by the freezing Clyde perhaps not the best location though. 

Oh & this little monkey loves Auntie ly’s style. 

Pause to breathe…

I had to go into hospital for a little bit for some treatment to complete things. I also have a kidney infection, my body likes to do fun things like this. Anyway, I am physically & emotionally exhausted. So, I’m just going to rest for a while & will be posting things that were completed before this happened. 

Spring wish list…

I’ve seen a lot of spring capsule wardrobe posts. Fuss free & minimal seems to be a big trend this season. Eh, not for me.  

I don’t think I’ve ever been a minimalist anything, but my fashion especially has always been a free for all. My brother used to mock me for seemingly attempting to wear all my clothes at once (layers have long been my friend) & the toy boy currently finds great mirth in my colour combinations. My style is just whatever takes my fancy & this is very much reflected in the mish mash of pieces I am currently drooling over.

Asos is my go to. It’s always the first site I check when I need (want) something new. Their curve range rarely lets me down. This season I’m loving the unusual shapes, frills that I’d actually wear & pops colour. It really pleases me how easy to wear it all looks. I can imagine just throwing on any of these items & feeling comfortable all day long. You’re ticking all my boxes again, Asos. 


I suppose hippie chick & alien metallics aren’t the most obvious bed fellows, but the heart wants what it wants. I’ve never seen a bell sleeve that I didn’t want & as far as I’m concerned the shinier my legs the better. So, thank you Pink Clove

My Boohoo picks are in a similar vein. Camisoles with jangly coins & slouchy maxis make my hippie soul sing. Meanwhile corset belts & harnesses bang my sexy bitch drum. I’m fickle & it seems the cyber high street is too. Just one complaint about boohoo, if it’s plus size, I want to see it on a plus size body please.

Lindy Bop is an absolute dream. Stunning retro style fashion that won’t bankrupt me & actually fits. I would probably happily buy their entire website. Given my not unlimited budget, I’d settle on these beauties. 


Tropical prints are a big yes & Forever 21 is on point with their tropical offerings. Their variations on classic black leggings & skater skirts are also pretty fucking cool. I really miss the branch we used to have in town. If you’re listening Forever 21, Glasgow wants you back. 

I’ve got tears that are scared of the facts…

My baby was the size of a large olive. Almost all of her vital organs were formed. She had tiny finger nail buds & her body was covered in fine hair. And now she’s gone. 

So, I’m writing my emotions because I can’t bring myself to verbalise them & they have to escape somehow. 

With my health & my history this wasn’t unexpected, but that didn’t make it any less shocking. Being pregnant again was scary. It felt unreal to begin with, but I had started to believe that this was my time. The fear never left me, but the hope grew. 

I felt very pregnant. I still do, which seems particularly unfair. Sickness & nausea & cramps & sore nipples & peeing or crying every two minutes. Strong smells became my nemesis. I haven’t even been able to wear my own perfume. Pregnancy ruled out almost all of my normal meds. I’ve basically felt horrendous but been delighted to suffer. All the pain & discomfort meant my body was doing the very thing I didn’t think it could do. I worried about every twinge, but I also relished them. 

I felt like we were having a girl. He never said so, but I think maybe the toy boy did too. We talked about girl’s names so much more than boy’s. I talked & thought too much about too many things. 

Names & maternity clothes. 

The best way to tell my neice & when to tell the rest of the world. 

Which stories to read at bedtime & what songs might lull my baby to sleep. 

Painting tropical leaves in the nursery & learning all that baby wearing stuff. 

I really thought this was it. All the stars looked aligned. I got caught up in believing that I could have this & amongst the heartbreak I feel furious. I’m so angry with myself for not protecting the most vulnerable part of me. I’m angry that my body won’t do what comes naturally to so many. I’m angry that I have failed again. I’m angry that the world keeps doing this to me. 

Behind the anger is real fear. I am so scared that I can’t get through this again & even more frightened that this will be my only experience of pregnancy. The idea that carrying a life will always end in loss is overwhelming. I’ve worked so hard not to be overwhelmed by what life has forced upon me. I’m terrified of losing myself in madness once more. 

I’m still very much in the process of losing this baby. I know she’s gone, but my body doesn’t seem aware of it. I still feel pregnant. I don’t feel able to take any of the meds that I know will make this easier because I haven’t detached from the need to protect this little life. I have avoided speaking to even those closest to me because I’m just not ready to completely let go of my beautiful dream.  I’ve been able to do this partly due to the support of my lovely toy boy. To be taken care of without having to ask is a powerful thing. Having a companion in this is a new experience & a huge blessing (a word that will have him shaking his head), but it’s true. 

I feel much less alone. This child feels acknowledged & important. That’s a both a comfort and fuel for my guilt. I am aware that I am culpable for creating the situations that led to my boy not mattering to others in the same way. I’m also clear that it is my body that failed them. It’s acutely painful to live with that knowledge; no matter how unwilling the neglect. 

Isolation isn’t the answer. I know that, but I need some time. I have to let my body & my heart get used to the idea that I won’t be nurturing this child into life. I appreciate everyone’s patience.