Just a girl in a t-shirt…

On Monday night I finally made it out of house. I’ve been having a fairly bad flair and struggled to do anything at all last week. With the pain a bit more manageable & a brand new dress to wear I was excited to step out.

Cinema & sushi night with my sister is an enjoyable, but low impact excursion. It’s perfect for when I’m not feeling tip top. As is this t shirt dress. It’s super comfy & cosy whilst also being beautifully cut. The vivid print is just what is needed to chase away the January gloom.  In short it’s effortlessly perfect. 


Dress – Monki

Shoes – Primark

I also tried out some new slap. Barry M is one of my current make up favs. I’m absolutely loving this range of metallic lip paints & their strobing cream has ousted every other highlighter in my make up bag. 


Matte me up in Allure.

Strobe cream in Galactic.


After a week of jammies & greasy hair I felt pretty good. A thorough catch up with my sis & a giant Diet Coke left me feeling much improved. 



Incidentally, we saw Darkest Hour. Gary Oldman was great, but the film was only ok. If you know anything of Churchill you probably won’t appreciate this portrayal of him as the ordinary people’s hero. I wouldn’t rush to see it. 

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I don’t know where I stand…

About 7 months ago, after years many years of knee pain & a limp that had become almost permanent I had an X-ray that revealed arthritis. After even more pain & increasingly frequent falls my Dr recommend a walking stick. 

I had been experiencing pain in my right knee for years. When I first mentioned it to a Gp he put it down to a small accident I had whilst playing with my niece. I had plenty going on health wise & at the time it wasn’t a constant or severe pain, so I left it at that. The knee got progressively worse & I mentioned it a few times to various gp’s but no one was worried & it got sidelined by more immediately pressing health issues. By the time I really couldn’t ignore it anymore I had been diagnosed with fibromyalgia. The knee pain was attributed to fibro & that was pretty much that. The pain however continued to get worse. It hurt all the time, standing or sitting. It even  woke me in the night. Then came the swelling, then the limp shortly followed by the knee giving way & me falling on my arse more than once. Back to my Gp I went, but only to seek advice on what might help my knee; I believed it was fibro related. Finally, over four years later I was sent for an x-ray, which revealed significant erosion in my knee joint. I didn’t expect to have a condition like arthritis at 37 & I certainly never envisioned myself with a walking stick, but here I am.

Foot & walking stick

There are so many things I could say about the difficulties of getting a diagnosis or even investigations when you have chronic conditions. So often when medical professionals see things like fibro in your notes they will just link everything to that. When you have multiple chronic conditions  multiply the difficulty. Add to that mental health issues, being a woman, being fat, the drs who think everyone with chronic pain is drug seeking & honestly, I’m just exhausted. Yes, it could have been spotted sooner. Yes, I would probably have a better prognosis if it had, but at this stage I’m just too tired to even think about that. There isn’t anything that can done about it anyway. It is what it is. 

Unfortunately what it is is pretty shit. On a number of levels. I hate to admit it, but there’s been a real mental adjustment along with the physical. I find it really hard when people see me with the stick for the first time. I worry that they’re thinking, oh god, she has another thing wrong with her. I worry that they’re embarrassed. I worry that I’m just too much of an inconvenience. 

I hate it, but a walking stick is a blow to the self esteem. I don’t feel particularly sexy as I hobble along, so obviously I question if others will view me differently. Intellectually I know there is no weakness in disability, but emotionally I feel weaker. I feel less useful.

Less fun.

Less appealing. 

All the while I’m telling myself what nonsense that is. That I know better than to indulge in such ableist thinking. Then I think if I, a disabled person am having these thoughts, then others certainly are & that’s not a productive thought process. I’ve already experienced how ignorant the world can be. How many people will still push past me or not offer me a seat. I’ve learned that places who bill themselves as accessible, just aren’t (and my mobility is still so much better than a lot of people’s). The weird thing is, I think the kind folk are almost harder to take. Every time someone offers to let me skip them in a long queue or asks if I need help, I feel utterly exposed. I’m grateful for the seats & the consideration, but I still feel very vulnerable about needing them. I’ve put so much stock in the power of being independent & capable that another level of disability is a struggle to accept. Yet, writing those words feel very indulgent. How dare I ‘woe is me’ when things could be a millions times harder, as I know they are for millions more if people. I know some of this linked to my mental health issues. There are familiar themes here; shame, guilt & a big helping of get over it. I suspect though, that maybe these feelings are pretty common for those dealing with disability. Thoughts & feelings aside, life is just a bit harder. For me & I’m sure for those around me. I’m slower & more limited. I can’t go anywhere without checking a dozen things beforehand. I’m grumpier & less reliable. Spontaneity is out, relentless checking is in. I hurt more. I need more rest & assistance. I find everything exhausting. I sound like an absolute joy to be around, right?


Finally, there is the stress. All of the above is stressful. Everyday tasks, trying to do something fun, the future are stressful. Attempting to manage all the stress, is stressful! 

I realise this is all sounding very negative & I don’t want to be that person, but I do want to talk about it. I’d like there to more of a conversation about chronic illness & disability. I’m sure some of this will get easier. Some of it won’t & I’ll have to adjust. Spoonie life is nothing if not challenging. The opportunity to spill my guts definitely makes it a little bit easier. 

Cruelty free quickie…

This is a friday quickie to allow me to gush about a new discovery.  My darling friend Jenna sent me a mascara from thrive causemetics as part of my Xmas gift & now I love her even more. 

I used Benefit’s They’re Real for years, but had to give it up when they returned to animal testing. I loved they’re real & I have struggled to find anything that compared. The search is over, thrive liquid extensions mascara blows benefit out of the game. It adds length & volume & gives me magnificent lashes. Even better, thrive are completely vegan & cruelty free. Plus, for every product bought they donate one to a women dealing with cancer or domestic violence. I adore this company. I suspect I am about to become their biggest customer. 


Behold my glorious lashes (& another vegan favourite, the mighty Oreo thin). 


This isn’t a sponsored post & I am not being gifted any items. I am genuinely delighted to have found such an excellent mascara from such a wonderful company.  Those who try make a positive difference should be applauded & rewarded. I hope thrive gobble up lots of the big animal testing brand’s business. Oh & if you do make a switch please email the brand and tell them why you are rejecting them. I always do!

My new year week in pictures…

2017 was a tricky year. I came really close to my version of happily ever after, but it wasn’t to be. I did however face the worst possible thing & I wasn’t destroyed by it. I welcomed a wonderful new person to my pack & said goodbye to people who deserved longer. I’ve been sick & sore and still produced work I’m really proud of. Best of all I still have a loyal & fabulous troupe who are willing to dance in my storm. That one of them is a rather lovely man with a delicious arse only makes my life better. 

I have high for 2018. There will be new nieces/nephews to adore, exciting work prospects & who knows what else. I am ready for a brand new year & it is off to a great start. What’s better than celebrating that by sharing with you all. So, here it is 2018’s inaugural week in pictures. 

The Toyboy & I made the last minute decision to spend Hogmanay at the last ever Club Noir. Thus, we rung in the new year with loads of burlesque shenanigans. It was excellent. I am so sad the Club Noir is  no more, but very pleased I got to witness its last hurrah. TB & I also decided we should definitely see more burlesque shows. If you have any recommendations, leave them in the comments.
Smiling couple at Hogmanay celebrations Club Noir Hogmanay celebrations

New Year themed nail art manicure

After a remarkably hangover free New Year’s Day spent on the sofa eating junk in my pants, I was totally ready for a little shopping. I met my Mum & Sis for the best kind of retail therapy, baby shopping! I wish I could say we were one of those perfect families who are always on the same page, but we are so not. Me, my sister & our Mum all have our very own views on what’s gorgeous in infant wear. Luckily we can all see the funny side of our disagreements & a consensus was reached. Next up on the little people front was my beautiful little Madison. I highly recommend having a best friend with a baby. I can think if no better way to spend an afternoon than talking about every last thing with my bff whilst cooing over her mini me. 4 months is a great age & Madison is a great baby. Talking of great babies, there’s my nephew. Although, to be honest Kevin is fast outgrowing the baby moniker. My little superbaby is walking, talking & totally time obsessed with birds. I spent Thursday evening playing & getting ready for bed with him and my absolute favourite part is when he brings me a book & climbs up in my lap to listen to the story; even if he does get impatient for the pages with the birdies on them.

Vegan snacks, no make up selfie

Cute bear snow suit

This is the best thing I have ever bought. 

I finished up the first week of the year with a wee sneaky hotel stay. The TB & I were visiting friends for a b’day in a slightly out of the way place, so we decided to make a getaway out of it. We had a problem with our shower & ended up with an upgrade. Our new room had the most romantic skylight directly above the bed. Falling asleep below the stars is definitely a treat. I sn big believer in a nice hotel to chase away the January blues. You don’t have to go far, one look at the fancy bathroom & breakfast in bed menu will whisk you away from your daily drudge. Being a luxury bitch does everyone a little good. 

Romantic winter mini break, Scotland
And as always here are variety of other things that pleased me. 

Glasgow underground, winter sun, thigh tattoo in the bath

I hope 2018 has found you well & continues to treat you right. 

Fat Slut, you said…

So, hello, brand new year. Unfortunately it’s also hello to diet talk overload. Yup, it’s everywhere. The diet industry goes crazy in January. Over the years  I have managed to switch off from most of the weight watcher ads & gym discount flyers. I basically make it my business to mute the diet industry; I don’t buy magazines that tell me I’m not good enough, I don’t follow social media accounts that constantly talk about weight loss & I shun brands that use body shaming in their advertising. Of course, I also actively participate the body posi community. This works well for me. However, more and more I am realising that I simply cannot escape the notion that fat is just awful. The problem is that lots of the people I really like & choose to have in my life are, to be frank, fat phobic. 

I understand that everyone will not share my views on body positivity. I also accept that other people are free to do whatever the choose with their own bodies. In fact I am delighted when people find a way to love themselves. However they do it, finding genuine peace with yourself is a wonderful thing & I applaud anyone who gets there. What I don’t appreciate is having to listen to all the fat phobic crap that others believe in. I will never understand why people think it is ok to express their revulsion of fat people to me, a fat person. If you had brown hair & I repeatedly made negative comments about brown hair, you’d probably feel hurt, or pissed off. Well, surprise, surprise, fat people have feelings too. 

You can feel however you like about your own or other people’s bodies. If you want to do slimming world or Atkins or eat raw, knock yourself out. Run & lift & body pump until your heart’s content. If your internal voice mocks & degrades others based on their physical appearance that probably needs investigation, but it’s still entirely your affair. Once you voice those insults out loud, they become my business too & the truth is, I don’t want to hear it. 

I do not want to hear how terrible you think celebs looks when they gain weight. I don’t want to listen to your jibes about naked fat bodies in movies. When you talk in disgusted tones about your own fat, you are telling me what you think of me. Your talk of how your own much thinner body is not fit to carry a child or how being fat makes a person a terrible parent, you are commenting on my abilities. Every time you comment ‘I’m a fat bitch’ on picture of food you ate or tell me what is ‘bad’ about every item on a menu you are pushing your issues on me. 

And here’s the thing, I can’t stop you. You are free to say & feel whatever you please. You can hate your body & my body & Rebel Wilson’s body & Cameron Diaz’s body too. You can laugh & be rude. You can continue to say right to my face that you find people like me to be entirely undeserving of respect. I presume that often you are oblivious. I get it. Sometimes we are blinded by our own internal struggle. Everyone has moments of complete, but unintentional insensitivity. Sometimes, though, you know. You know that you are degrading fat people in front of a fat person. Mostly, we’ll let you get away with it. I know I do. I excuse & ignore. I tell myself you did not mean to be cruel. Well, no more. This is me giving notice. In the future I intend to point out that the body you’re mocking is just like mine. I will tell you that I don’t want to hear about your diet. I will mute you on social media if your timeline is toxic because I can do as I please too. I choose not to engage in anymore bullshit. I wish you well with your own self love journey, but I will no longer be party to my own debasement. You do you. I am going to do me.