Sunday, 27 February 2011


Ok, so I'm writing this post instead of finishing the essay thats due in tomorrow. Stupid? Very. Do I care right now? Not in the slightest. I'm afraid that I'm going through one of those phases where the world seems rather pointless.

I know that that is a very stupid attitude to have. Don't get me wrong, I'm under no illusions when it comes to how lucky I am to be where I am right now. Many people with the same background as me are living in council flats, on benefits, knocking babies out just so they can claim a bit more on the social. Potentially they're better off than I am right now, but thats as good as their lives will get. I don't expect to change the world, but at least I potentially have the chance to make something of my life, if I so choose. Trouble is, I just can't be bothered. I can't summon the energy to care or make the effort or anything of the sort. So no, I don't care if my essay gets handed in late. I don't care if I get kicked out of uni or fail my degree. I don't care if I gain 20st and end up on television as Britains Fattest Student. I know I should care, and I do really want to care, I just...don't. What is wrong with me!? Maybe I have a tiny little mind that can only cope with one problem at a time.

To be honest, I think it must just be that I'm going completely stark raving mad. I've spent the last week wondering if I am, in fact, the last sane person on the face of the planet, which is surely an indication that I myself am going mad!? Surely if everybody in my life turns into a lunatic at the same time, it means something is up with me? My perception must be off. They all seem to think their behaviour is perfectly normal. But it isn't. Not to me, anyway. Because people don't just change. The sensible girl-next-door doesn't suddenly turn into a nymphomaniac. Responsible forty-something men don't just end their marriages. Reasonably intelligent men don't just become completely thick and oblivious. Arseholes don't become nice people. Nice people don't become arseholes. Not all within seven days.

I think thats enough to give anyone a case of the crazies to be honest. Under the circumstances, I think I'm bearing up quite well. (As I write that, I'm currently sat in the corner of my room, rocking myself. Juuuust kidding!)

Ok, so, as you can tell, its all blown up in the last week. The big news is that daddy and stepmummy have called time on their 'marriage' (yes, it was that bad that it merits a '') meaning that my clever plan to live there next year went down the pan. Trying to find somewhere to live in Canterbury after the middle of December is a nightmare when you're a student, so looking at the end of February, on my own, was never going to be fun. Fortunately (and I say that with great trepidation) I have managed to find four friends who needed to fill a room. The trepidation in that statement stems from the fact that they are four male friends. It has the potential to be hilarious, or an out and out disaster.

Me and my roomies!!!

While I'm not a girly-girl as such, I do have a bit of a thing about clean kitchens (not that you'd know that from the state of my one at the moment) so fair warning to them, they will get nagged. As well as this, while they're all absolutely lovely individually, when they get together they become four of the biggest wind-up merchants known to man. Hopefully they'll get bored after a couple of months though. The weird thing is, I'm not so much worried about them winding me up, as I am about me winding them up by being all 'oestrogen-y', as one of them charmingly phrased it.

I feel given the title of my blog I should mention something vaguely a friend said to me the other day 'you're blog is supposed to be about weight loss, but all you do on there is gossip'. To which my (very honest) response was 'yes, but I'm shit at weight loss, and good at gossip'. Kind of says it all. Having a friend to stay, being at home for a week and trying to work on essays has kind of pushed anything remotely healthy out of the window. Like I said before, I know I should care...I just don't.

There's not really an awful lot more for me to say at the head is swimming with the Wallace Stevens essay that I should care about, and will need to finish at some point tonight or tomorrow, so I can't really think of anymore witty anecdotes of philosophical wonderings. Maybe next week I'll be more interesting.

I wouldn't count on it though.

In the meantime, I'll leave you with some new(ish) pictures - finally!

Monday, 14 February 2011


Hi all

So after a weekend spent at home in Essex I'm feeling far more like a human being than I was last week. We didn't do anything thrilling but it was lovely to be at home and to relax and not have to worry about uni (despite the fact that I should have been working while I was there) and I've come back feeling refreshed and a lot calmer.

Unfortunately the chilled weekend at home also entailed a ridiculous amount of naughty food (including two take-aways, chocolate and a full roast and dessert) so I'm not feeling optimistic about weighing-in on Wednesday morning. I've been good all day today and have whipped up another batch of 0pp soup so I'm set for lunches for the rest of the week. I will also be hitting the gym and pool tomorrow in an attempt to limit the damage come Wednesday morning.

There are a few other things that have fallen into place since I last posted. I now know that I will be living at my dads next year and commuting to university, subject to further negotiation with him and stepmummy in regards to rent and sleeping arrangements, but from what my dad has said its all go so far. Its a massive weight off my mind to know that that's where I'll be, and means its one less thing I have to worry myself about. It also means I'll be saving a substantial amount of money next year as I'm be paying in the region of £130 a month including food, as opposed to the £400+ I pay now. Of course I will have to pay for travel costs out of that, but even so it will work out in my favour financially.

My dad has also told me that his company's newest client happens to be a fairly well-known publishing company which offer internships to students and graduates. Like I said before, I'm not sure that that's what I want to do with my life, but spending some time in that sort of environment should help me find out if its the right career path for me.

I'm off now to make dinner, watch Eastenders and choose my essay titles. They're due in a fortnight and I'm hoping to have made a decent start on planning them before my friends come down for the weekend. Then I have the week after to write the buggers.

Love to you all xxxxxxx

Wednesday, 9 February 2011

Missing In Action.

Hello readers!

I was recently berated by my gorgeous friend Heidi for having not updated my blog in a long time, and I thought to myself, 'it's only been a week or so, surely?' Only when I looked did I realise that it's actually far closer to a month! I'm not entirely sure how that happened, nor can I figure out how it got to be February already. If anybody has any ideas on where January (and the last 20 years and four months of my life) went, can they let me know? Cheers very much.

If truth be told, my absence from blog-land (sounds less wanky and pretentious than 'blogosphere...right??) has been due more to my fragile little brain than anything else. The first few weeks back at uni after a long holiday are supposed to be the best of any term. This is before essays are set, before the pre-exam revision panic sets in, when you can get away with minimal reading and just have fun. However the first few weeks back this term were not that great to me. Over the Christmas holidays I came to the realisation that I don't really know what I'm doing with my life, and that I don't really have the desire at the moment to do anything with it. I enjoy my course enough to be able to tolerate doing it, but I don't have any of the passion or drive for it that other people seem to have for their subjects. The only reason I took English was because people told me I was good at it. I didn't come from a particularly high-achieving school, meaning that for quite a long time I was one of very few big fish in a very small pond, and grades that were considered good there were in reality mediocre. So I was praised by my teachers and parents for being in the top of the class, when it wasn't really that much of an achievement. And if you're told for five years that what you're best at is X, the natural conclusion is to take X further. I think maybe I would have been better off doing Y. Trouble is, I have absolutely no idea what Y is.

Anyway, I'm rambling. Back to my point. The first few weeks back at uni have been bleak. As I said, I have little or no passion for my course. I don't know what I want to do after university (obviously a career in anything literature-related is looking bleak given my current apathy towards the subject). The few good nights out I've been on have all ended badly (lost purse, lost keys, lost cash, lost dignity...), and on top of all that there have been problems with my housemates. AND I've no idea where I'm living, or even studying, next year. All in all, it hasn't been great.

The only positive aspect of this tale of woe is that I have been back on the WeightWatchers wagon, properly, since January 3rd. There have been a few days where I've gone off the rails but the majority of those have been alcohol-related derailments on nights out, something which I have grown to accept is an inevitable part of university life. The drinking culture is so massive that its almost impossible to escape it and its so easy on a night out to get caught up in matching your friends drink-for-drink. This becomes particularly troublesome when you're on your (male) friends birthday night out, with ten 19-20 year olds who seem to have livers made of steel, AND you're following international drinking rules. Or when you go to a relatives wedding and its open bar (yes, I know that doesn't count as university drinking culture, but any excuse!)

As well as being, for the most part, on track since January, I have also recently joined the gym. I haven't been exercising regularly since last year and despite having only been going for a week I already feel better. It tires me out and means I can be in bed, asleep, before 2am, something that was unheard of for a while. It has also resulted in my skin beginning to clear up (already) which is never a bad thing. I've been for a couple of dips in the pool there and I'm hoping to start building up how far I can swim as well what I can do on the machines. Before now I hadn't been near a pool (excluding my ex-boyfriends, and honestly, I wasn't exactly swimming when I was in there...) for about five years and I'd forgotten, or never really appreciated, how much hard work it is. Twenty minutes swimming is far more tiring than an hour on the cardio machines! I do have a new-found love of the cross-trainer as well. When I first started WeightWatchers I could only do about five minutes before I literally wanted to keel over and die. Now I can do twenty and I thoroughly enjoy them! Who woulda thunk it?

Now, down to the numbers...all this being on track and exercising has resulted in me keeping at least one of my new years resolutions. I'm still poor, my uni work still gets left to the last minute and my fingers still look like they've been chewed off by rats, but I haven't had any gains since January. I don't know exactly how much I've lost since I weighed myself on the 1st because there are some serious discrepencies between the four sets of scales in my life (mine, mums, dads, and meetings) which means that I vary in weight by up to half a stone depending on which ones I'm using, but I know in myself and more importantly in my clothes that I haven't put anything on. When I went back to meetings three weeks ago I was 10lbs heavier than I was in August. A lot of that was Christmas weight but I had been bouncing up and down in the same half a stone for a few months before Christmas as well. Since I've been back I've lost 5.5lbs, meaning that I have 4.5lbs to go until I'm back to the 3st mark. I'm hoping to do that in the next three weeks, and that getting past that number will break the mental barrier I've had since last summer and let me get on with losing the rest. So far I've lost 37.5lbs out of the desired 102.5lbs. I don't care how long it takes me to lose the other 65lbs, as long as I get there in the end.

Anyway, I feel that is quite enough of a rambly, wordy, me-me-me post for now. I solemnly swear that from now on I will update with some semblance of regularity, and that I will at least attempt to include some pictures. Preferably they will be of me, but I have the standard fatgirl aversion to having my picture taken, so no promises on that one.

For those of you who stuck this post out til the end...well done, and my apologies.
Thanks for reading!
Love you all! xxxx