Showing posts from February, 2017

My Relationship With Trousers- It’s Complicated.

Ah!- you can’t live with them, can’t live without them...a woman needs a pair of trews like a fish needs a bicycle. Alas, this elephant won’t be pulling on some spandex for a spot of off- roading anytime soon...but, I DO need fabric to cover my legs.
I am not going to use this space to bemoan the state of my legs, but despite the appearance ( averagely unfit person/elephant of middle vintage), they FEEL so much bigger. I can’t lie, my legs and I- we have issues….and as for my backside, I could write a novel on how complicated it is for me to sit these days. So, trousers/leggings/pj bottoms and their crotches, seams and waistbands and I have a love/hate relationship. That is: I would love to wear them, but I hate how uncomfortable they make me feel.
In addition to having ME I am also a Chronic Pain veteran. To those of you who have not experienced the joys of this, here is an edited version of Chronic Pain FAQ’s-
Yes, I am in pain all day every day for 95% of the time, yes, I have p…

The Land of Chronic Illness is a Foreign Country- They Do Things Differently There

As the great philosopher, Dr Seuss once observed:‘You’re in pretty good shape for the shape you’re in.’
Yep. You don’t feel great. You don’t look great either- except when you make a big effort and everyone thinks things are back to normal- good news- you’re well again! Except that you are not. Phew! You may be chronically ill but at least you won’t be embarrassing people with your lack of grooming skills.

Your body, your lovely, lovely body (oh how you appreciate NOW all that it has done for you!), who you have taken onto sunny beaches, shovelled takeaways into, forced onto long walks and into dance classes and pub crawls, biscuit binges, hearty sessions of coupling and clubbing, and long days at the office, has HAD ENOUGH!

In my thirties I spent some years living abroad. I can still remember the intensity of my first months there, of my head and heart bursting with complete incomprehension, of the relentless over-stimulation from new noises, smells, foods, colours, …and I mourned and g…

I cannot Buy a Guinea Pig

I cannot buy a cat because I am allergic to their catandruff. A dog would need walking…and you can’t cuddle a fish.

I cannot buy a guinea pig because I cannot put another creature in the position I am in. I cannot make it sleep inside a box when there is a whole life out there that needs exploring. I cannot make it stare through a grill at the world and try to keep its sanity between the times it is allowed out.

I cannot make it scratch around the carpet, when it would rather be speeding around on the grass with the sun on its little back. I cannot buy a guinea pig, because us animals need air that is fresh and cool and has not been breathed out a million times by others.

I cannot buy a guinea pig because if nothing else, I can supply the guinea pig I don’t buy ,with my love and freedom, in the biggest garden,(I imagine), so the critter can see only green to its horizon…and have other guinea pigs with which to fight and play.

I cannot buy a guinea pig.