I just realised that my passport expired yesterday so if I wake up in the morning with an urge to take off to some far flung exotic destination, I’m buggered and I’m going nowhere. I’m gutted to be honest…my passport contains a fairly flattering skinny head shot and since I shall be forced to get a new passport before I’m officially resident in Skinny Town, the next one will actually have to look like me.

I was skinny and ten years younger when the picture in my passport was taken which might help you understand why I’m quite attached to it. To be honest I’m astonished that I’ve been allowed to travel on it all these years but with the exception of one very diligent immigration bloke when we arrived in Russia last year nobody has ever questioned it. The guy in Russia took some convincing mind you.

I ended up standing in front of the immigration booth trying to mime the fact that I’d put weight on, by puffing my cheeks out and striking a particularly fat pose, not that I needed to pose that much since I was topping the scales out at over 320lbs at the time. All done under the watchful eye of the other folk in the queue…definitely one of those moments where I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.

I can’t even take a selfie and edit out a chin or two can I..? I think the pictures have to come from one of those little booths, although to be fair it is ten years since I last went through the renewal process so things might be a bit different now. I won’t need it until the back end of August so I’m going to hang on for a bit so I can at least take a running jump at my skinny face. It’s got to last me for the next ten years so I need to put my best foot forward, right? At least it’s only my head.

On another note, I had to fill in a medical questionnaire today for the Cuba trek. Question 4a in section three threw me a bit when it asked for my weight…I wasn’t expecting that. I made up an outrageous lie obviously 🙂 Well it’s not strictly a lie, right? By the time I set off I will be significantly smaller than I am now and besides, I’m not running the risk of being booted from the trip because they’re scared that hauling this fat old body up a mountain might actually kill me.

It’s a bit different to our trip in the helicopter last October, where if you remember I ended up paying an arse tax for a wider seat…just one of the indignities you have to suck up as a fat girl living in a world built for folk who know when to quit with the cheeseballs. If all goes according to plan, by the time I get to the foot of that mountain I’ll be wearing large pants instead of extra extra extra large, having consumed no cheesy balls for well over a year. There’ll be no reason for anyone to look at me and think she’ll never be able to do this…

I’m really going to enjoy that moment of just being like everybody else 🙂

Whilst you’re here, please take a moment to pop into our guest blog page, where our very own Fleury Knox has given us a few things to think about! You can find it HERE

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