Monthly Archives: April 2016

All Toes Present And Correct


So, as we head north on the train home, I’m feeling a tiny bit flat that all the excitement is over you know? I’d only been blogging for about four months when entries were invited for these awards, so for roughly half my blogging life this has been running in the background.

I’m sorry I didn’t bring it home for you guys…I would have loved to of course, but the winners were so talented and they deserve every bit of the recognition they got last night. My friend asked me earlier if I was disappointed, and you know what, I found it really hard to answer. I am, but at the same time I’m really not.

Judging by some of the outraged emails I’ve had from you lot, I think you’re definitely more fed up than I am, in fact if the judges have any sense they’ll find a safe house and stay there for a bit!

Awards are lovely, and being a part of all this has been awesome but I’ve never lost sight of the fact that I started this for me. I started writing as a way to keep my hands busy and wrestle my head into the sweet spot so I could unzip this fat suit once and for all, and no matter how much I joke about stuff, I make sure that every post helps me to move my head on to a better place. Your lovely company, and your feedback and your chatter has become a priceless part of my journey. And it’s workingso please don’t be too down that I don’t have a trophy to polish…I have everything I need right here ?

It was a great evening, and in spite of my strappy not-built-for-fat-feet shoes I’m happy to report that all my toes are present and correct, if a little pissed off. Nothing that a couple of days in Uggs won’t sort out, right..?  And I must thank you all for your lovely compliments when I shared the pictures on Facebook…you made me feel like a million dollars, and my boy seems to have gained a new fan club too, much to his bemusement.

Between yesterday’s sightseeing and a bit of shopping we’ve walked for miles, as if last night’s shenanigans weren’t enough for these poor old feet. But I’ve kept a watching brief on my diet, and I’ve earned the little treats that might have accidentally found their way through my chops…it’s all about balance, right? Mind you, the cooked breakfast in the hotel this morning was served on a plate the size of a saucer, so the string bean Gods were clearly cheering me on from the sidelines.

Life returns to normal tomorrow…it’s a bright shiny new Weight Watchers week and I can’t wait to get at it. Thanks so much for your immense support over the last couple of weeks, and for getting giddy right alongside me. I got goosebumps last night when I saw our blog in the spotlight, and I’m just immensely proud of what we’ve built.


Oh, and in case you’re wondering…yes the man on stilts was resting his nickie nackie nooos on my shoulder. If you look closely you’ll see a touch of hysteria behind my smile ?

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Here We Go…


Well as my Grandma used to say, there’s no getting any sense out of  me now. It’s that time…me and my boy are almost ready. As we speak he’s pacing the floor and getting used to the feel of his tux – his first black tie event – whilst throwing furtive admiring glances at the mirror. I don’t blame him, he looks incredibly handsome (even though I’m not allowed to tell him that 🙂 )

I’m all ready underneath but still in pyjamas. It’s strange, my nerves have gone and I’m ready to throw myself headlong into the evening. I’ve been practising my losing face, you know so I can look as happy for the winners as those movie stars who don’t bag the Oscar. I’m in that place where one minute I think OMG IMAGINE if we WON!! and then next minute Assholio chips in with don’t be ridiculous there are people here who actually know what they’re doing, you’ve got no chance, you’re just not good enough…at least I won’t have a TV camera in my face to beam a thumbnail of my disappointment around the world if one of the proper bloggers knocks it out of the park.

You know what, it’s academic at this point, right? It’s the first time something good has come of me being fat, and whilst I won’t be content until I’m living in an average-sized body inside the Skinny Town county line, being fat and being on this journey is what’s presented me with this amazing opportunity, so in your face Asshole, I’m in a good place. Where this love of writing came from I have no idea, but when I needed it the most, there it was and I’m grateful. Who knew!

It’s funny, there have been a couple of moments in the last couple of days where I’ve bumped into the fact that I’m very much still work in progress. Driving home from the office on Wednesday evening and feeling very happy at the prospect of five days off work and all the exciting things to come, I was acutely aware of the Asshole voice encouraging me to unplug the diet for the next few days…you’re on holiday! Just take your foot off ’til after the weekend…that’s always what I did before, you know?

Same thing yesterday when James and I were talking about the train. We travelled in the posh bit since it’s a special weekend, and they give you free food, so he was thinking out loud about what might be on the menu. Let me tell you how much I would have exploited that in the past, I would have chewed all the way way to London. My boy did, in the way that you can when you stand six feet three inches in your socks and have hollow legs.

The Asshole was jumping up and down like Rumplestiltskin at the fact that I wasn’t over-indulging on free stuff. I wanted to of course and I felt the familiar blend of resentment that I couldn’t and satisfaction that I wasn’t. But I didn’t, and that tells me that whatever I’m doing is working…I’m slowly replacing those old habits.

So here we are then, it’s time…I must go get dressed. I promise pictures tomorrow but if you follow me on Twitter you may just get pictures and hot-off-the-press updates as we go…


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A Flurry Of Activity


I’ve just had the best afternoon ever, and I’m feeling very pampered. You’ll be glad to know that in preparation for tomorrow night there are now definite green shoots of sparkliness…my fingers and toes are a lovely shade of steel grey with a touch of silver shimmer, which will match my posh necklace. Get me, being all co-ordinated. It’s hard to believe that just a few months ago I…ah feck it let’s not go there, not today…I’m too giddy.

I don’t think the gorgeous skinny string bean who painted my toes so beautifully this afternoon quite knew what to make of me. We had some general chit-chat you know about this and that, and then she asked me what I was getting all poshed up for.

When I told her I was going to a posh doo because I write a blog about dieting she was a bit baffled, and I suppose I might have been too, in her shoes. I mean if you’re painting the toenails of a very fat lady who appears to think that she’s some kind of authority on dieting you’re bound to think what the fuck could you possibly know about that, right? To be fair she’d have a point, I don’t look like I know my way around a salad…not yet anyway.

And you know, I could probably have folded this young lady up and tucked her into my knicker drawer, so clearly if I’d tried to explain about the Asshole voice and the bitch in the bathroom I would have just dug myself deeper into weirdo territory…obviously she’s clearly never had to fight tooth and nail to stay away from the hobnobs. But she was perfectly lovely, and she perked my feet up no end.

To be honest, I’m still debating about the shoe situation for tomorrow – I did buy a pair of strappy flatties with sparkles on, but they’re about as comfortable as I imagine cheese wire wrapped around my toes might be…three toes on each foot cop for it in particular and after a few test walks they were all on the verge of turning blue. On the basis that I don’t want to leave the event with fewer toes than I had when I arrived, I might need to rethink my choice of footwear.

My boy collected his tux this morning and I’m under strict instructions not to do that dewy-eyed proud mum thing where I spend all night telling him how handsome he looks…it’ll be hard but I promised. So he’s sorted, and in all but the shoe department, so am I.

Between you and me I’m starting to feel a bit nervous. I mean it’s hugely exciting but a bit daunting at the same time you know? I was contacted by a PR company this afternoon who’ve picked out some quotes from the blog and it reads as though I’ve actually given them an interview, which felt very strange. Like, who’d want to interview me?! I’ve lived in the shadows for the last few years and I can feel a definite breeze around my ears now I’ve stuck my head above ground…it’s going to take a bit of getting used to.

Am I ready for tomorrow..? You bet your sweet ass I am 🙂

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Getting Ready To Sparkle


Well that’s it! No more work until next Tuesday. I’ve booked a couple of days off and tomorrow will be pamper central as I hand myself over to my friends at the beauty salon in the hope that they can perform miracles and get this fat old body ready to sparkle. As much as anything it’s going to be lovely actually to just have a few days off work…I haven’t had any time off since January and I’m so ready to chill out.

I was thinking about Friday and the Blog Awards, and you know it’s the first time in ages that I’ve really looked forward to a night out. In my younger days I was a very sociable creature, but in more recent times I’ve formed an alliance with the Asshole voice in finding excuses not to accept invitations to pretty much anywhere, especially if it was going to involve hanging out with a bunch of folk I don’t know.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not shy at all, and I can work a room with the best of them, but anyone who’s ever been ashamed of the way they look will completely understand where I’m coming from. How I look, and more especially what people think about the way I look never quite loosens its hold over me, so no matter how deeply involved in conversation I am with someone it’s…well, it’s just there.

I’ve found myself desperate to maintain eye contact for all the wrong reasons…it’s less to do with me being really engaged, and more to do with the fact that if their eyes leave mine for a second they might notice the rolls of arm fat poking out of the bottom of my sleeve, or the fact that I have sausages wrapped around my gin and tonic rather than fingers.

Even when I’m out with friends, I never completely disconnect from that feeling. I’ve got several friends who don’t come in a standard size and it would never even occur to me to judge them because their muffin top is making a bid for freedom, in fact I probably wouldn’t even notice. And yet, because my body doesn’t conform to what I regard as attractive I convince myself that other people will mind somehow, and I’m ill at ease no matter how good the company.

Letting go, getting hammered and dancing like a loon would just as likely get me laughed at as a skinny girl, but somehow ha ha look at that girl dancing sounds nowhere near as bad as ha ha look at that fat girl dancing…it’s like being fat triples the comedy value, so as a fat girl I’ve always been wary of opening up the window of opportunity for someone to take the piss.

This Friday, it’s different. They’re expecting fat. In fact, if you think about it I’m only here and writing this blog because I’m fat. If I’d been a skinny string bean I would have been far too busy doing skinny string bean things to even pick up a pen in the first place. Given that I’m so excited, and this blogging malarkey has opened up such an awesome new world to me and brought me so many new friends, it seems I should almost be grateful for the size of my arse.

Hmmm…I’m not sure about that. However, I do know there are very few people in the world I’d swap places with right about now, and it’s a long time since I’ve felt like that 🙂

By the way, thanks for all your messages about not being able to write a review on the Kindle store about my blog – it seems it’s only possible to review it (or subscribe) using a desktop/laptop computer or an actual Kindle device…mobiles and tablets are not supported by Kindle blog. As if?!!

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In Search Of Magic Beans


I felt a bit embarrassed today when I got a visual wake-up-call about how my pre-occupation with food might look to other people. Yesterday I forgot to bring the containers home that I’d taken my lunch to work in, so today my feet were fighting for space under the desk with a double helping of airtight boxes. There were six altogether, plus two large plastic cups which I use to chug my blended smoothie of the day on my morning commute.

On top of my desk, nestled amongst actual work stuff you would have found a punnet of plums, a bottle of salad cream, some emergency crackers and a tin of soup. In the bin behind me were a couple of banana skins and an apple core. It must have looked like I’d been under siege for a month, for God’s sake.

I did do a quick recce on everyone else’s desk and I was slightly reassured to find that there was the odd snack or two kicking around other corners of the office but put it this way, if the entire HR team had been kidnapped by aliens, when Mulder and Scully rocked up to investigate they would have known immediately which desk belonged to the fat girl.

It puts me in mind of a conversation I had with my doctor twenty odd years ago. A friend of mine had been to her doctor because she wanted to lose weight, and he’d handed her a prescription for pills to supress her appetite. I wanted to get me a piece of that action so I made an appointment to see someone at my own surgery with the intention of getting my hands on some of these magic beans. It seemed like the perfect answer.

It transpired that my doctor was a little less accommodating. Actually, he was a twat. He sent me off with a flea in my ear and a long lecture about how fat people were unnaturally preoccupied with food and basically I needed to get over myself. He even illustrated said lecture with a story about his own fat friend, who had joined him recently on a skiing holiday and had taken sandwiches ‘for the journey’, which he used as an example of how fat people were different to normal people, and couldn’t bear not to have food within touching distance. Judging by the way he said it he didn’t mean different in a good way.

I’d give anything to have that same conversation with him now, with my additional twenty five years’ worth of life experience and a slightly lower tolerance for being mugged off. I doubt I’d be able to resist commenting on how lucky his fat friend was to have such a supportive chum, you know? I mean, with the 20/20 vision of hindsight I was trying to go about it the wrong way, but I was reaching out, you know? He could have helped me, if he hadn’t been so busy judging me.

It’s the first and last time I ever talked to anyone about how much I was bothered by being fat. Well, until you lot of course. And I’d like to think that I’d get a more supportive response if I went to chat to a healthcare professional about it these days. I wouldn’t, of course…I’d rather stick pins in my eyes than have that conversation. But still, I hope they’d at least give me some leaflets and a bit of advice.

All joking aside, my jaws have barely stopped moving today – I’ve only grazed on low point healthy stuff but I know I need to give some attention to this phobia of hunger pangs. God forbid one might sneak up on me, right?


Before I go, I have some hugely exciting news, and I need your help please! Break Out The Skinny Girl is now available on Kindle Blogs, I mean come on!! We have arrived! It’s become available today in the Kindle Store through Amazon…if you read and enjoy Break Out The Skinny Girl, would you do me the honour of leaving a review on your thoughts about the blog? You can find it HERE  It can’t be done on mobile devices only computers or Kindles (no idea why) but thank you, your support as usual means the world to me 🙂

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