Fringe benefits…

Last weekend I was in Edinburgh for the closing days of the festival. I had such a good time, but as is the spoonie way, it took me days to recover. I also had some exciting going ons keeping me busy this week, so it’s taken me a while to put a post together. Obviously the fringe is over, but you can catch my recommendations performing around the country all year.

I have been a Neil Holborn fan for a while, but this was my first opportunity to see him perform. He did not disappoint. His poetry is stunning; words have so much power when manipulated correctly. Much of his work packs a punch, but he can apply a light comedic touch too. Neil has been receiving some well deserved acclaim recently & I hope his star continues to ascend. 

The next two shows were the toyboy’s choices. I’m going to give him credit for content, but a big fat zero for the venues being so far apart. Lost Voice Guy tackles inspiration porn, tory welfare cuts & his own experience of disability all whilst being highly amusing. Chris Coltrane continued the political stand up with his Make Love and Smash Facism show. If like me, you’re a left wing, bleeding heart liberal who likes a lot of swearing, this is the show for you. If like me you also have a very dodgy knee & often faint in hot rooms, The Banshee may not be the venue for you. Edinburgh is possibly the least accessible city in existence, so when I say I had a good time, you know the shows were good. 


After drinks & dinner & more drinks we hit a late night comedy show at The Mash House (another contender for hottest spot outside hell). Two girls one cup of comedy was a show that guaranteed at least two female stand ups every night. We caught the very last show which, to my delight, was an all women line up. The stand out for me was definitely Samantha Baines. Her compèreing combined quality puns, hilarious audience interaction & a tiny bit of man mocking. Turns out I’ve been under a rock & Baines is already rather well known & loved. I am glad to have joined the party, even if I am very late. 

We saw some other bits & pieces and visited a few non fringe related spots, but these are my picks. I recommend you rush to them should they visit your vicinity. 

The end of festival fireworks were really beautiful too. 


*Photo credit, top right – Stephen Black.

Everybody wants to be a cat…

I had a lunch date with my Mum & sis on Saturday, which seemed liked a good opportunity for an over due outfit post. It turned out to be a day of surprises, but very nice ones.

Anyway, back to the fashion. I combined my love of cats with my fondness  for swing skirts & donned this kitch beauty. 



Skirt – Lindy Bop

Vest – Forever21

Cardi – John Lewis 

Necklace – Gift

It wouldn’t be a ly outfit without an injection of colour, a box my Pom poms perfectly ticked. Oh & my eye make up helped too.



The food was yum, the news was good & my mum even treated me to a colourful new skirt. Saturday win.

No compassion…

I’m 36yrs old, chronically ill and a size 22, I am no stranger to a bit medical fat shaming. Sadly, I have had to develop a thick skin when it comes to interacting with the medical profession. Drs & nurses will say things to me that no one else would dare to. I have had to learn to advocate for myself when necessary & brush off a whole bunch of bullshit along the way. To be honest I thought I was fairly untouchable. I am entirely comfortable with my size & though often tiring to hear the same fat phobic lectures, it doesn’t hurt me. Infuriate, yes, but I never felt unable to deal with it. Until recently. 

Earlier this year I had a miscarriage. It was not my first loss. My previous experiences of pregnancy & miscarriage were hugely traumatic and in fact played a major part in my mental health struggles. Losing another baby was horrendous. I had some complications and ended up having to spend a little time in hospital. The one small blessing was the support system I have in place and the kindness I was treated with whilst inpatient. Once home & physically recovered I visited my GP to discuss my general health & how to proceed fertility wise. That she wanted to talk about weight loss was not entirely unexpected. I know standard advice for anyone overweight talking about having a baby is lose weight. I know drs still hold rigidly to the BMI scale & that there is an upper limit for fertility treatment. I know fat women often have their pregnancies labelled high risk. What I wasn’t prepared for was this gp’s insinuation that my weight caused my miscarriage. So, unprepared was I that I convinced myself that I had misunderstood. I pushed it out of my mind & continued trying to process my grief. However, when I returned a week later and she still only wanted to talk about diet plans, what I ate, what I weighed now & how often she could weight me,I was more explicit. I explained my history of borderline eating disorders, of starvation diets & losing vast amounts of weight only to regain it. I told her I did not and would engage with rigid diets or weight loss programmes. Her response was given my multiple miscarriages, I might want to re think that. I enquired If she was saying I miscarried because I was fat & she confirmed that she thought it likely.

 

I walked out feeling a rage that quickly melted away to sadness. I was left wanting to crawl into bed and never get out again. I have struggled with PTSD for many years; my original trauma was an emotionally abusive relationship & my the circumstances surrounding my first miscarriage. It has taken me literally my entire adult life to get control of my shame and guilt. Years of self harm, debilitating depression, panic attacks, flash backs and nightmares all centred around how the loss of my child and subsequent illness was all my fault. One thoughtless dr had thrust back into that damaging thought cycle. On top of that I have fought to reclaim my body as acceptable. I have had to work to enjoy my life in this fat scarred body. My history is well documented in my medical records and I have personally discussed it with the dr. That truth is she wants me to be thin more than she wants to me be happy & healthy. Her complete disregard for my mental health was cruel. That she hadn’t even bothered to investigate my history before speaking is unacceptable. A cursory glance at my notes would have revealed that I was not over weight at the time of my other pregnancy losses. She would also have seen that I am currently taking a medication for PCOS that causes weight loss. The drug is harsh on my already inflamed digestive system meaning that I throw up daily. In addition one of it’s major side effects is appetite reduction. Hence, I have been slowly shedding pounds since I commenced this treatment. I also have diagnosed gynaecological issues, which are much more likely to play a part in my inability to carry to term. The conversation she forced upon me was not only insensitive, but entirely irrelevant. That said, it is never ok to blame a vulnerable women for the loss of her child.

I have chosen not to see that GP again. I attend a fairly large practise and as a freelancer have the freedom to wait for appointments with another dr. I have yet to confront the issue as it still feels so raw. However I feel a strange sense of duty; I feel I must tackle this to prevent it happening to someone else. I recognise that there were times in my past when this dr’s assertions would have entirely destroyed me. I hate that the responsibility to educate & challenge falls to people like me. I cannot understand why a profession who swear to ‘do no harm’ are so married to fat phobia. Why is care and compassion is so often disregarded purely because a patient is fat?


 

 

My week in pictures…

It’s Saturday night & I’m watching Die Hard 2 in my jammies. I say this not as a complaint. It is pretty much the perfect end to a great week. I’m definitely on the sore side, but at least I earned the aches having fun. And, so, I give you my week in pictures.

The toy boy went to a festival last weekend, so I did a little shopping & eating with my darling sister. Followed by drinks with friends & experiments with new lippy shades. The week proper began with some catching up with my man. A home cooked meal, brand new baby doll nightie & a lot of carry on. 


A hump day movie night was disappointing for me, but a hit with the toy boy. Surely I’m not alone on thinking there are too many damn Spider-Man movies? Calderglen Country Park on a sunny day made up for the dud film. 

Amongst scans, bloods tests & pitching to editors I found time to treat myself to some beauty bits & pieces. Namely more nail products. My manicures continue to be fancy af. There has also been vegan delights galore & lots of feline antics.

I capped the week with science frolics. The adult only Science lates at Glasgow Science Centre are more enjoyable than I’d imagined. All the fun of the interactive Science malls, planterium & live shoes with added cocktails. Trust me those optical illusions get even more freaky after a few tipples. 


Of course it wouldn’t be a week in pictures without some random interspersed shots of things that grabbed my attention. Oh & project post it continues to spread some wisdom. 

Fathers be good to your daughters…

Last Sunday was Father’s Day, so my sis & I treated dad to a bit of lunch. We also bestowed upon him soppy cards & our delightful chatter. As the sun still had it’s hat on, we also snapped some outfit photos. 


I had opted for a wee bit of gold brocade dressed down with a vest & some pins. 

Skirt – Glad Rags

Bandeau Vest – Primark

Cardigan – New Look
The cardi wasn’t really required; a lighter floatier cover up would have been more suitable. It’s hard to choose outfits when the weather might change at any minute. Glasgow fashionistas have it hard! On the plus side, finding a bit of greenery for a an impromptu photo shoot is never a problem. 


Woman of the week…

Sierra Demulder is a feminist poet. Her work is raw, powerful & on point. Her humour is displayed where appropriate, her pain when neccessary. She covers topics dear to my heart. In short her poetry blows me away. 

I think it is vital that we talk openly about feminist issues. It’s so important to dispel the old tropes & teach girls ( and women) that their voices matter. Poetry is the perfect vessel for rage, passion, joy & fear. It’s a beautiful way to be heard. It’s also a beautiful way to encourage woman to speak out loud, to give life to all the thoughts banging at our skulls. 

You should see my scars… 

Today is self injury awareness day. I’ll be honest I’m fairly jaded about awareness days. Especially those of the mental health variety. Too often they seem to me to be highlighting the wrong things. Today hasn’t broken the mold. Almost everything I have read in relation to self injury awareness day (SIAD) has focused on the usual stereotypes. Some have just missed the point entirely. So, I have decided to share a little of what goes on in the head of a person who is hurting themselves Specifically, this person. 

I don’t fit the stereotypes. I didn’t hurt myself as a teen. I wasn’t bullied & had a picture perfect childhood. I was never desirous of attention or seeking care in the form of dressings & kind medical professionals (ha!). I’m not stupid or dangerous or crazy. I have fought this battle as an articulate, independent adult. I’ve hidden wounds & scars through university & work alike. I kept a secret shrouded in stigma. Constantly confronted with the idea that my problem was one that should only face little girls. Shamed by the opinion that I am an incompetent drama queen. 

I am none of the above. Rather, I am woman who suffered trauma that altered my life. In the depths of anguish I stumbled upon a solution; a maladaptive survival technique. An act sought out to gain control when I felt powerless. Lamentably, my source of control rapidly overtook me & established dominion. Self harm is so complicated. It’s scope is different for each individual. For me, it become all encompassing. My daily thoughts circled around if/when I would cut. Being proficient was paramount. Every cut had to be ‘better’ than the last; I sought deeper wounds, more blood, more damage, more more. Self harm entangled itself into my identity. 

Admitting that & asking for help felt like relinquishing part of my self. Not only was I facing the loss of self harm, but also the strong, capable parts of myself that made me feel worthy. Admitting that I could no longer cope was the most vulnerable I have ever been. Believe me when I say that to face stigma & prejudice in that state is crushing. To gather all your courage to tell a therapist the ugly truth & be faced with a ‘just stop’ attitude is soul destroying. Equally dragging your blood soaked self to a&e only to be treated with disgust can break a person. That the is the problem I & many others most need addressed. 

I believe SIAD should be about acknowledging the complexity of the issue. We should be focusing on changing the attitudes within the medical profession. Yes, let’s educate our communities about mental illness, but let’s also change the entrenched attitudes within the institutions that have the power to destroy lives. The worst stigma I have faced has been from dr’s & nurses who ought to have known better. Stigma is never positive, but I’ll take a hundred ignorant strangers over one cruel dr. Being unable to safely access treatment can kill. We need to take the fight to that front line. 

  

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I would be good…..

So, here it is, the obligatory New Year’s resolution post. I doubt it will surprise anyone to learn that I will not be worrying about any of the dieting bullshit. In fact I shall be trying my best to eschew all negative, body policing type thoughts. My focus shall be on enjoying life & challenging myself in positive ways.

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Living with chronic illness can make seizing the moment difficult. Sometimes I really am too sick to do anything, no matter how amazing the opportunity. This year I have decided I will try to be a bit more strategic about my day to day life. I’m hopeful that simple changes such as keeping track of how much sleep I’m getting, taking gentle excercise when I feel up to it & keeping up with my food diary will ease managing my illnesses. I have also resolved to make bigger changes for instance trying a gluten & dairy free diet & pushing my consultants to make a care plan of sorts instead of just constantly adjusting/altering meds. Of course none of these things will cure me, but perhaps a change in diet, being conscious of getting enough rest & so on will improve my symptoms somewhat. At the very least I will feel more in control & I am big on control!

That time of year can be a nightmare for fat folk. Everywhere you look there are diets & fitness regimes. Friends, magazines & celebs alike insisting we must lose any xmas weight gain, pushing us to aspire to a ‘new you’ for a new year. Well, I am hoping for a slightly new me, but it has nothing to do with my weight. I am striving to block it all out completely. I no longer want to think of myself in terms of fat/thin. If you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, you will know I have already come a long way on the body acceptance trail, now I want to consolidate that. I don’t want to waste energy worrying about weight loss (through ill health) or any future weight gain. My plan is to divest my identity of it’s link to my size. I will be me wether I am a size 22 or 12. My writing, opinions, talents & interests will remain unchanged. This is the message I hope to drive home.

On the challenging front I want to push myself in healthy ways. Instead of berating myself or being
weighed down by guilt, I plan to make it ok for me to be unable to achieve certain things. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not giving myself permission to stagnate. In fact, the opposite, by stretching myself to try things I worry will be too much, I will perhaps surprise myself. However, if I prove unable, I refuse to beat myself up. With a bit of luck this approach may help me extend my freelance work & possibly even branch off in new directions.

Finally, I aim to have as much fun as possible. I will see friends & family as often as I can. Try new activities, even if they scare me or I am rubbish at them! I don’t want to deny myself anything that will make me happy. Be that expensive shoes, a man, a big cake or a day in bed.

2015 is my year to get living.

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Another year over, a new one just begun….

This year we suspended Hogmanay to focus our full attention on my beautiful sister’s 30th. My baby sister said goodbye to her roaring twenties with a very extravagant gatsby esque celebration. From champagne towers to dancing on the bar, it was absolutely the party of the year.

I wanted a really decadent dress with a taste of the flapper style. When I saw this Lovedrobe sequinned affair on the New Look website I knew it was the one. It jumped straight onto my wish list & in a very short time span, my wardrobe. A girl has to treat herself when her youngest sibling turns 30, if only to mask the panic of how old you feel. Needless to say I had a fantastic time as did everyone else.
I hope you all had a wonderful new year & all the best for 2015!

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My eye make up & shoe game were top notch.

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Moustache game was also strong

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The stunning birthday girl. Fabulous doesn’t age.

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*Dress – Lovedrobe at New Look
Shoes – Irregular Choice
Footless tights – Evans

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Cold as ice…..

In the quiet time between xmas & new year my sister & I took advantage of a crisp, bright day to take Seb for a nice long walk. We of course also found time for a spot of outfit photography. It was a lovely day, but still very cold, hence I wrapped up warm in my ‘sleeping bag’ coat. It’s not the most glamorous outerwear, but it’s oh so cosy.

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This wool skater dress is also perfect for a winter walk. It’s delightfully comfortable plus lovely & warm. The autumnal/wintery colour palettes have long been my favourites, but any yellow tones have been particularly taking my fancy of late. This mustard colour gives an additional impression of warmth. It’s a top cold weather dress.

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Dress – Asos Curve
Coat – Very.com

I was in a crazy rush getting ready that day & just flung my hair up. Without knowing how, I constructed lovely voluminous bun. Of course all attempts to recreate it have failed miserably.

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Here is the main man creeping into shot. He seems determined to get in every photograph he’s not supposed to be in.

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