Kate who?

I actually managed to get up to see the guests arriving for the Royal Wedding, and I have to admit that I was loving it. I swear Kate did a little grin when she said 'for poorer'. Heh.

Anyway, seeing as I've never put any of my wedding dress pictures on here, I thought today was as good as any day.

I wish my waist/boobs actually looked like that. It was basically a lucky combination of photo angle, support pants and 3 weeks of meal replacement bars. TMI? Sorry.

(Photo by Meagan Molloy).

Every girl dreams of becoming a princess?


Don't get me wrong, I love a good royal wedding themed TV spin-off (Come Dine With My Big Fat Royal Gypsy Wedding Crashers, anyone?). However, during the last week or so I've heard and read a lot of the following phases being tossed around on TV/in magazines/on radio phone-ins:

"Every girl dreams of becoming a princess."
"Every woman, from when they are a teenager, dreams of having a big white wedding."
"[Becoming princess] is something to aspire to."
"[The perfect wedding] is every little girl's dream."


Since when was it OK to start flinging around this casually, yet insidiously, sexist shit?

Girls should aspire to be scientists or doctors or lawyers or amazing Mums or to travel the world or.... Or anything that gives them an individual identity. They should not aspire to be, essentially, WAGS.

Yes, I am married. Yes, I love my husband. Yes, I enjoyed my wedding day. But it was exactly that- ONE DAY. Not the pinnacle of my life's achievements. Not something that defined me (or worse, validated me) as a person.

Confessions: I did not dress up as a bride when I was a child. I did not draw cutesy pictures of myself in a veil. I did not fantasise about Prince Bloody Charming. Surely I'm not unique in this? Let's face it, there are way better things for women to aspire to then being the perfect bride.

I may well get accused of taking flippant comments too seriously, but this is important to me. Women deserve to be defined by their own achievements and aspirations, not by those of their husband.

Family Fortunes

On Sunday Channel 4 screened 'Meet the Middletons' - "A visit to the front rooms of Kate Middleton's relatives, showing the life she might have lived but for a few twists of fate, in an intriguing story of social mobility." Although I didn't bother watching it, from what I can gather it basically involved visiting Kate Middleton's distant relatives and digging up whatever dirt they could.

Now, Kate doesn't really need my pity, but in this case I feel sorry for her. Images of some of my own family members immediately flashed before my eyes. In particular, my Dad's cousin. When I was a child, every birthday card would be accompanied by a handwritten, six page letter, which would outline, in excruciating detail, her day's activities. Her life was not, needless to say, particularly exciting. When she turned 60, she sent out invites to her "birthday bash" (the quote marks are hers, not mine). Every guest was to bring a leaf with them, which the attached to a "family tree" at the beginning of the "party" (the quote marks are mine, not hers). The action ended promptly at 5pm when she announced that we all had to leave in the next four minutes so that the church hall could be cleaned.

Every family has them. Think about your own crazy aunt/uncle/cousin. Now imagine them on national TV. Talking about YOU. Poor Kate.

Happy 100th post to me!

Yes, you read correctly, this is the 100th time that I have graced your screens. I know, I know, that's a lot of pointless rambling about food/myself/poor quality phone photos.

As The Simpsons pointed out, there comes a time when every long running series does a cheesy clip show. So, without further ado, I present what I consider to be my best (OK, better than the rest) bits:

Unashamedly sharing extracts from my teenage diary. And because that wasn't embarrassing enough, sharing even more of them.


The joys of problem pages.

Did I mention that I went to Norway? Yeah I did, several times. But you can still read about it again. Please?

And obviously... The Neighbours cake!

The badder the better.

Grace Dent (who is a genius, BTW) has managed to sum up my whole attitude to television in one paragraph. Here it is:

"This is a show so terrible that some 5.5 million people tuned in last Saturday and, if they're like me, will be back again tonight and for six more glorious weeks. Because sometimes I want to read Angela Carter novels and muse on concepts of hyper-realism, and sometimes I want to watch Ray Quinn singing Parklife in the middle of a dog display team. Today is a Sing If You Can Day."

Read the rest of the column here.

WAMK: That's a bit more like it.

This is the second week of my 'Where Are My Knees?' pledge, and things are definitely going a little better.

This week I:

Walked 3 miles home from the hospital. FOR THE LAST TIME. Go me.

Went to a BODYBALANCE (I'm not shouting, that's how they spell it on the programme) class at my local leisure centre. I was hoping I might be able to cheat a bit because 'it's only a bit of stretching' but it was hard work. Muscles that I had long forgotten about (abs, anyone?) were literally shaking by the end. Still, I think it'll be great for toning up and I'm definitely going to keep going.

Played football with my friend's four year old. This was surprisingly hard work, and I was shamefully competitive. Ahem.

Went swimming, and actually counted my lengths this time (I managed 40). I really didn't want to go but did feel much better for having done it!

There are some food-related things that I feel a bit (OK, very) guilty about this week, but this isn't really about weight loss, so I'm not going to bore you with all that crap! Plus, it's nice to keep things positive, right?

p.s. Don't forget to check out rest of the Where Are My Knees action!

Happy Birthday Mr Shakespeare!

Today is Shakespeare's 456th birthday, so I thought I'd celebrate with everyone's favourite Shakespeare starter: insults!

Here are some of my personal favourites:

"You egg, you fry of treachary!"

"Thou art a boil, a plague sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood!"

"Foul spoken coward, that thund'rest with thy tongue, and with thy weapon nothing dares perform!"

"His wit's as thick as a Tewkesbury mustard."

"Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat!"

If you'd like to continue the fun (and why wouldn't you, you subtle whore) feel free to pop on over the the Shakespearean Insult Generator. Hours of fun.

The most important meal of the day.

Let me explain something. When it comes to breakfast I am, at best, a throw two weetabix in a bowl and eat them in 30 seconds kind of girl. At worst (or, indeed, normally) I don't bother with anything. This information may go some way towards explaining why I was so impressed with this breakfast that I felt the need to take a photo.

Disclaimer: At no point did I suggest that this post would be funny/informative. OK?

Ever broken something you loved?

Take comfort in the fact that it could have been worse.

Keep Calm and Exhale

A couple of weeks ago I wandered down to Farnborough village to kill some time. I stumbled upon St Giles' church and spent (part of) of one of the first sunny days of the year sitting on a bench and looking out. For the first time in a long time I was actually able to be 'in the moment' rather than stressing about what had happened or what might be about to happen. It was like one, long exhale. Ahhh.

Little Moments (four)

"Where am I?"



Clickety click.

Seeing as I often subject you to my extremely amateurish attempts at photography, I thought I'd address the balance by sharing links to a couple of genuinely good photo-y bits and pieces that I enjoy looking at.

First of all, the amazing photo blog, faszination+in+bildern. The pictures have an incredible dream-like quality to them, and I could look at them for hours.

Secondly, the 'In Pictures' section of the Guardian's lifestyle magazine. Each week they publish a selection of pictures sent in by readers around a given theme. This week's theme is 'In Their Element' and, although I'm not normally a doggy person, this was my favourite.

Last but not least, Meagan Molloy. Yes, I'm biased, but she's great. So follow her.

Your regularly scheduled "photography" will now resume.

WAMK: Could Do Better.

In case you're wondering, WAMK stands for Where Are My Knees (although I could, reasonably enough, also be declaring myself to be WANK).


The first week of my pledge. I did OK. Just OK, unfortunately. I walked home from hospital three times (it's about 3 miles, so that's pretty good, although it's not exactly EXTRA exercise). I also did a Tai Chi session, which I really got into this week, so I reckon that definitely counts.

This week I'm going to make a more concerted effort (I AM). Two swims at least, plus something else which I'll come up with during the week.


Ms Motivator?

Where Are My Knees?

Having spent the last few weeks reading diet/exercise blog 'Where Are My Knees?' while sitting on the sofa and using my non-scrolling hand to stuff food into my mouth, I've decided it might be time to join in the fun. By 'fun', I mean 'doing things that I know are good for me but that I usually neglect to do.'

Exercise has been constantly recommended to me to help with the depression. I know it will probably work, at least a bit, and now that my motivation is returning I need to start helping myself a bit more.

So, as of today, I will (try to) exercise at least three times per week. Wish me luck.