Tag Archives: date

Boys, boobs and a whole lot of honesty

3 Feb

The carrie affect

Recently someone told me that I had to keep writing and that I should keep being as honest as possible.

Whilst I wholeheartedly agreed, nodding repeatedly whilst sipping on my red wine, I was shamefully hiding the fact that sometimes it’s hard to keep it up. Don’t get me wrong there are days when I could talk about it non stop but then there are other days, more quiet, reflective days, when I just want to shut up. Put on my ‘I’m fine’ hat and just ignore stuff. But, as I’ve said before, the main problem with being such a loud mouth with a massive “oh crap, I’m overcoming Breast Cancer” banner and a pet C-Monkey in tow, is that when you want to be quiet….you kind of can’t be.

The other thing that struck me was the word ‘honest’. At the beginning I was brutally honest, there was a rawness to it all. I think this was partly because of the shock at everything that was happening, the Cancer news, the appearance of C-Monkey, the mastectomy and the aftermath of it all. Back then I just couldn’t stop blurting it all out, loudly, to anyone, in graphic detail….I look back at that now and know it was the right thing to do because it massively helped me at the time. It gave me an outlet at 4am in the morning when C-Monkey was doing cartwheels on my pillow and ripping up my bras. But now, well now lets just say I’m a bit more self aware. I know that people are reading this, that there are opinions being made, judgements even. The effect of that has meant that I’ve unwittingly started to self edit. I didn’t mean to, but I am. I’m more cautious about what I write, even to some extent what I say to people. I don’t want to offend anyone. I want my friends and family to continue to be proud of me and not be horrifically shocked or embarrassed by what I say or do – I think they’ve had enough of that with the TV appearance and boob cookies?!  I’m also acutely aware that my Nan will be reading this (hi Nan, love you, promise I’ll try to keep the swearing down!)

I shouldn’t worry what people think of me but yes, I admit it, I actually do. It matters a lot. So maybe my writing, my brutal honestly has eased off somewhat, maybe I have been waiting until I can write positive things rather than just wailing “EVERYTHING IS STILL CRAP AND I AM SO TIRED OF IT!” whenever I want. Seriously though, who wants to hear that? I’d be bored of me. Wailing is not fun. So no there will be none of that. But maybe I should go back to being a bit more honest. Afterall when I first got the news all I did was frantically search for someone like me, someone I could talk to and although there were endless forums I just found them all so deeply depressing. I just couldn’t engage with them.

There didn’t seem to be anyone like me, someone who just wanted to life as normal as possible, didn’t want to wallow but kind of was. Someone who could keep laughing at the crazy ridiculousness of it all, drink a little, cry a bit, talk about boys and jobs and how the hell anything would ever be the same?? I had a million questions from the stupid and inane to the serious and heavy, but just couldn’t find anyone to help me answer them. So I started writing. Being honest.

So here I am giving myself an honest kick up the bum and starting over. Deep breath, and go….Ok, so, my next operation is now mid Feb. It’ll be my fourth within a seven month period. Lots of poeple don’t understand why I’m having another operation, my usual brush off response is that things just need to be sorted, things haven’t quite gone as well as expected but that I’m fine, it’ll be fine, I’m fine blah blah blah…yawn. That’s probably what I’d be writing right now actually.

But the honest truth is, boobs are bloody complicated. There I was happily bouncing about before the whole C-Monkey accident thinking that boobs were nothing more than lovely big lumps of jigginess with bits on top. But no, they are seriously complicated things. This is something I have hugely underestimated.

I mean when I was little it was pretty easy to make boobs. All you needed was a few pairs of socks to stuff down your top, or anything that you could mould into two lumps… play dough worked quite well, as did sand, little boob shaped sand castles complete with shells for the naughty bits. You see, easy. In real life though, not so much.

So then the operation, numero four. The problem is this, essentially leftie is still a bit too small. This feels like a ridiculous admission given that I feel like I have a giant jelly tot stuffed in me, but he is. The skin has stretched even more and he needs to be made a bit bigger. There’s also the problem of him….um how to say this….migrating away somewhat… You see this Leftie seems to a bit shy, he is rapidly making a bid for freedom and is trying to hide under my armpit whilst doing do. In short he’s just sort of nudging me under my arm, which is really uncomfortable, and needs to be firmly put back in the right place. If he isn’t sorted out god knows where he’d end up? Who wants a boob on their back, that is a scenario I’m not willing to even think about.! So he needs to be made a little bit bigger and with the help of a few internal stitches (ouch) hopefully he’ll stay put.

But it doesn’t end there. This will actually be the first time I’ve had both done at the same time. Yeap even Righty isn’t quite right, yet. Despite the lift and the little implant that’s been put in, Righty is still….well, flagging somewhat. My own boob is quite literally, letting me down. (Sigh). So he’ll be lifted a bit more and reshaped a bit too. The hope is that eventually, with a little bit more attention here and there, they will both match and I really will have the best boobs possible.

I say possible because they still won’t be my boobs, not completely. That’s still a hard pill to swallow. As much as I quite like the new perkiness and the way they’ve suddenly made me look a bit slimmer (oh yeah, random but true!) they still won’t be my old boobs. I can’t even say they’ll be better because they probably won’t. In truth, the real honest painful truth, is they wont. They will have scars and even after those fade they will still be a bit different. The reality is that I will always have one real and one fake. Actually I’ll have one fake and one who’s identity is a bit confused…half and half if you like. To the casual observer they won’t look any different, if anything they’ll look pretty perky and amazing, but I’ll know the truth. I’ll know what it took to get them.

On the plus side, one other life thing that’s been suffering from all this has had a nice surprise. Boys. Now boys and boobs have had a love affair for as long as the world has existed. Boys are seemingly mesmerised by these two dangling things, the mere sight of them can bring joy into their life and make the world a better place.

This always proved to be quite handy for us girls. The hypnotic power of our greatest assets could get us out of most situations and in to lots of others too, if you know what I mean. And I loved mine. As I’ve said before I think they were my best feature. Anyway, one of the things that goes through your head when you hear you have Cancer is how your love life will be affected. Well, it went through my mind anyway. As a thirty something single girl, this was a major concern. I mean, for a start I could rule out the next 6-9months at least! Love life officially cancelled. No Mr Right or any Mr Wrongs. Just me, alone, single and bored. Only C-Monkey to cuddle up to and he hates to cuddle, and he snores, badly.

But after that, well then what? What happens when life starts over? How would I tell someone I wanted to be with that I may have to do a bit of a Carrie Bradshaw for a while? How do you even start that conversation? For those of you who know SATC you’ll know that Miss Bradshaw was a fan of the bra in the bedroom approach. Miranda, Sam and Charlotte regularly got their boobs out in many a sex scene, but not Carrie, she was a bra in bed kind of a girl all the way. So I decided a while ago that should the situation ever arise again (?!) I would adopt the Carrie way.

But in order to even give that a go I’d have to get my confidence back, get out there, find a boy to like me, then face telling him….then do the Carrie thing. I appreciate this all sounds very superficial and stupid, but when you haven’t had ‘fun’ in a really long time (thanks C-Monkey) and you really do want to meet your Mr Right eventually, it does occupy an awful lot of your thinking space.

Recently I got to put the Carrie in to action. I’m not quite ready to be that honest, just yet (hi again Nan!). Suffice to say that the guy in question told me that not being able to have something, just makes you want it all the more. So maybe Carrie was on to something, sometimes it’s ok to hide the goods away. It seems boys actually quite like it.

So if I could go back in time and relate some of this to the freaked out, frightened and totally confused me, the one frantically searching the internet at 4am in the morning searching for answers and just becoming a sobbing mess… I’d say this – No it won’t be the same, they won’t be the same, but that doesn’t mean it will be awful. It’s all down to you. You will find the strength to hold on to who you are, and that’s what really matters. Keep writing, keep being honest, oh and keep a nice bra handy too ;0)

Honesty and boobs, who knew it could be so complicated!

Shopping for boys….

4 Jul

So I’ve gone and done it.

I am officially doing the online dating thing. Well I say doing it, technically I have written a profile and uploaded some pics….I have yet to go on my first date.

The profile bit was as expected, very painful. Only after several glasses of wine did I actually save it. It’s a really tricky thing to do, you know whatever you say is going to be read and judged by a whole load of strangers – talk about pressure.

I tried to strike the balance between normal, but not dull, fun but not annoying so, interesting but not predictable, sane and not a total freak. I even wrote in the first line that it was hard to do this without making yourself sound like a total prat….I’m not sure that was the smartest move but it’s true.

It’s all a bit weird though. It’s like setting out a little shop. You decorate your window with pictures of yourself then stick up a load of signs “funny, easy-going, not mental” in the hope some passing male browser will say “hey, I like the look of that window, I’m gonna go in and see what’s on offer…”

All the time you’re there, eagerly waiting for someone to pass by, take a peek and hopefully say they like what they see. It’s torture. And my god there are some freaky looking peeps out there. Seriously! Now I know it’s all about whats on the inside but seriously, sometimes, it just isn’t!

And it’s weird, looking for boys. You’re literally window shopping for men.

Clicking through the images with all the heart of Simon Cowell, a resounding”next!” ringing out with each click. Nope not for me…..too fat, too thin, too ginger, too pointy, too keen, too many fingers?! It’s so heartless.

But let me just tell you this. It is absolutely addictive. Shopping for boys. Such a fun way to pass the time!

So there I am. Clicking away and being clicked on (which sounds much ruder than I mean it to) so where’s it all got me…. well I’ve had some very nice messages, some ok but not quite right messages and some messages that, well, lets just say they made me feel a bit wrong….blurgh!!

But at some point, you have to progress from the messaging stage to the actual date.

Shit sticks.

So that’s where I’m at. I have a date. A date with a guy from the Internet.

If he turns out to be a total freak I’m blaming you!

The internet is a scary place…

12 Jun

I’m still on a bit of a quest to find a good date for the dinner in the dark challenge, and thinking of suitable dates has got me mulling over the whole internet dating thing. I know some people swear by it and lots of my friends say it would be a great thing for me to do but I’m not sure….not yet anyway.

I mean really, is internet dating a good place to meet people and broaden your horizons or simply a buffet table of leftovers that no one else really fancies a nibble of…..

I did actually try it years ago, about 6 years ago to be exact and it’s a whole minefield of obstacles. Setting aside the weirdos and serial shaggers who just use these sites to pray on hopeful young ladies, it is a seriously complicated business. Every sentence you write, every image you post is viewed and judged by a total stranger – and then selected or rejected accordingly. Romantic, it isn’t

First up the profile. This should come very naturally to me, being as I waffle on about myself on a pretty regular basis…but even thinking about this brings me out in a cold sweat. It’s the pressure of the whole thing. You basically have to write something amazing, something witty and wonderful that will hopefully attract a hunky chunk of blue Stilton and not the placid, slightly sweaty piece of pork pie no one wants. You still with me or has this buffet metaphor just totally gone off?!

Ok so the profile. I’ve done a little investigating and I think there are basically two types of profile writers. Those that tell the truth and hope to be loved regardless and those that lie. Big fat, huge in your face lies.

I’d like to think I’d be the first kind of dater, honest and to the point. I mean what chance do you have of meeting someone lovely if you start off fibbing about yourself?!  Ok so just to have a bit of a practice, here’s how my honest profile write up could sound…..

Blonde, 31-year-old, ZomersetGirl, recovering from total heart-break but still a hopeless romantic. Clinging to the idea that Mr right is out there somewhere. (He’s just really good at hiding….a lot.) Slightly obsessed with cheese, dogs, Wham!, Topshop and achieving the perfect size ten body – which is in total conflict with my ass and boobs which defiantly want to stay at a size 12 regardless of what I do! Sometimes feisty, occasionally bossy, known to suffer from bursts of road rage coupled with an ongoing need to drive over the speed limit. A sort of fair weathered passion for running and Pilates but would much rather be tucking into some chocolate, whilst watching a cheesy film and sipping on a cup of tea. A true bumpkin at heart I secretly yearn to head back to Zomerset, make jam, have lots of babies and bake cakes for the local fete – although really I’m a total contradiction as I’m sure I’d be bored in a week, start drinking in the afternoon and plotting a return to the big smoke. Interests include drinking too much red wine, spending far too much money on the latest shampoo, lipstick, mascara, wonder cream going, dancing to cheesy songs, singing in my car, seeing my friends for more drinking/dancing, eating out and shopping. I should say art galleries and the like but the last time I was in a gallery it was during a hen-do when we took to the bar for some posh cocktails?! Looking for someone who thinks I’m funny, who can make me laugh, who’s passionate, not dull, loyal and just a bit brilliant. Oh and if he could be ever so slightly gorgeous too that would be a bonus….

Hmmmm….too much honesty. Maybe just a tad.

Ok so option 2, exaggerating/twisting the truth just a little bit…I could do that….

Blonde city girl with a country heart, T-total, amazing skier/horse rider, into literature, the arts and the latest pop up/underground art scene. An avid keep fit junkie, yoga and Pilates are a must, along with my daily cycle into work and the weekend salsa classes. I speak several languages, have traveled the world and absorb culture wherever I go. I can cook up a storm and count Jamie Oliver as a close personal friend. Politics and poetry are my two passions, and I’m actually in the process of publishing a collective work of poems based around the Blair/Brown relationship…..

Too much??

Doesn’t it all seem that rather a lot of work?!! I mean really, can’t I just wait for a movie moment to come along and Mr Wonderful to bump into my life….

No….arses.

The challenge begins!!

5 Jun

Hmmm….. Ok well the votes are in, they have been counted and verified and I can now reveal that the first challenge of the Seven Day Itch is……….Dans Le noir!!!

http://www.danslenoir.com/london/

So that’s it folks, I will shortly be taking myself off to have some dinner…..in total darkness. I imagine it’ll be a pretty messy affair, random and hopefully a whole heap of fun, with large a side portion of stupidness.

But before I take myself off to cover my face in food I have to find a dinner date……which could in fact be more tricky than actually eating in the dark?!

Who to ask??? I haven’t actually been on a date, date, for a really long time. Not a proper girl and boy type real date. One that starts sober….you know.

I could ask one of my best friends and I know they’d happily throw themselves into the challenge of face food, but I think that would be cheating. Nope I need to find a date. A proper boy to chat to, giggle with, flirt with a bit and generally just make things just a bit more interesting.

But where can I find this Mr Darcy look-a-like who’s charm, wit and ability to coordinate cutlery in the pitch black would make him the perfect match for the challenge???…..Answers on a post card please….

So while I mull that over let me recount one of the pther first experiences I’ve had recently – all in the name of the Seven Day Itch.

What new, crazy thing have I tried……non other than a fish pedicure. Yeap you heard me, a fish pedicure. This isn’t some magic new foot cream made from fishy bits (which actually sounds gross!) nope it’s a new beauty thing whereby you stick your feet into a tank of fish while they munch away at your dead foot skin.

It is sooooo gross when you actually think about it….. Fish are going to eat at your skin….nibble away at all the yummy bits of dry skin from your feet……seriously…..I’m going to pause here while I throw up a bit….feel free to join me.

YUCK!

But I did it. Oh yes. Along with about 10 other people during my friends Hen do we did it. We took over this gorgeous little spa in Soho, popped some bubbly (trust me, you wouldn’t want to do this sober), got our feet cleaned by a rather hunky man (possibly the best bit of the experience) and then took our seats.

Fishy HQ - Soho

In front of each of us was a mini fish tank, teeming with loads of little fish, just swimming around presumably waiting for some tasty toes to get into the water.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I find fish a little freaky. Always have. I dream about them all the time, weird being eaten alive by fish type dreams so the thought of actually putting two of my limbs into a tank of fish that are absolutely going to eat you…..well it’s  a lot to get your head round. Pass the bubbly please!

It is such a bizarre experience to lower your feet into a take of fish and feel the feeding frenzy begin. Because that’s what it is – a feeding frenzy. The fish go absolutely crazy, swimming around your feet, trying to get in between your toes, up your ankle – it’s actually quite horrible. The feeling is like small electric shocks as they nibble away. It’s so, so ticklish I can’t even tell you.

Here fishy, fishy

And so as soon as I took the plunge, and the feeding fenzy started, so did the squealing. That’s the only word I can use to describe the sound that I made. It was a high pitched gasping sort of squeal. And once I started I couldn’t stop. And I wasn’t alone, all ten of us were squealing, gasping, swearing and generally giggling our heads off.  The staff loved us!

The squealing begins!

Still squealing....

And as if the whole thing wasn’t weird enough the spa served snacks. Yes snacks?! So while the fish were getting their feed you could tuck into something too……I am not kidding when I tell you that the lady next to us was eating chips. Now think about that for a moment……she was eating chips……while fish ate her….fish & chips….well, it took on a whole new meaning for me ?!!!

So fish pedicure. It is just a really, weird experience. But so bloody funny.

Would I do it again? Nope I don’t think so but I’d absolutely say it’s something you have to experience. And the results….well lets just say those fish are clever little buggers, my feet have never been smoother.

Again…..SOOOO GROSS!!!

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