Tag Archives: weddings

Just so’s you know …

I survived landing in the fifth most dangerous airport in the world.

(I know you were worried).

This is where we went.

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La Almoraima, Spain.

For this.

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My new sister in law and my old brother in law.

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ma7 ma9 ma11 ma10b ma33 ma82

The weather was gorgeous, the location beautiful, and landing in Gibraltar was no big deal after all, mostly thanks to the chap who decided he was staying in the toilet for the landing. With all the shouting and banging on the door I hardly realized we’d touched down.

I had fun with my family and am a little homesick now, but I’m glad to be back.

Now on to the next big adventure.

After Gibraltar, bring it on!


My cuppeth is emptyeth.

sad-face-1And yes, K, this is exactly how I feel.

So, in a nutshell,

I’m going to this wedding and it’s in Spain, and I just can’t get my head around what I’m going to wear because I still haven’t lost the weight I would like to lose, and so I don’t want to go, but, it’s my brother in law’s wedding and I like him, and I like her, and they’ve asked us to be witnesses, which is an honour, but I’d rather be dead than wear anything other than my jeans and black t shirt which have been a staple for years now and I don’t think I’ll be able to get away with that in Spain and at a wedding … (breathe).

And, when I say staple, I mean staple. I don’t think I’ve even seen my legs.

(O.K. I have).

Now, this is a problem for me. A BIG problem. I mean, would you go to your child’s wedding in jeans and a black t shirt? No. Which means I can’t either. I’ve told all three of them that they would be happier, believe me, to just run away somewhere, get married, then come back and tell me.

But, I don’t think that’s going to fly.

And now there’s this wedding – in Spain.

Now, I’m not that heavy, really I’m not, and I’m not that vain. But, it’s a kind of body dysmorphia thing. You know the one where everyone else looks great except you. In fact, you think you look hideous, and not just in a, what was she thinking, kind of way, but more in the Hunchback of Notre Dame way. Sorry Hunchback.

And, when I remember to think about this, I’m miserable.

I can get by with it most of the time as I don’t have to go out. I can go to my studio and ignore myself. But, I feel really uncomfortable doing most other things – especially weddings. Why do people have to do that? It just messes me up completely.

So K, who studies health and nutrition, said she could help me. I thought that by losing a few pounds it would help me to start getting over this whole what the #*^^’s wrong with you problem, and, when she offered her help, I thought, how hard can it be …

As a nutritionist, I imagined she would say, O.K. eat a bit more of this, a little less of this – I was even ready to go to, a lot less than this, but I should have known.

Now I’m on the Whole 30.

No. Don’t talk to me about it. I’m not listening. It’s already annoying me.

You see, it’s the tea.

No milk.

And, there you have it. My only comfort in life, gone. Snuffed out with two simple words – no dairy.

Here is my lovely new cup.

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Empty.

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Magpie Pottery

It’s the end of the world as I know it.

And K, don’t you mention the C word again..

:(

NOTES:

First day: Thick head. Depression (probably because I feel sorry for myself and don’t like being told what to do). And, this morning –  the second day – aches and pains down the outsides of both legs, and, if I might say, buttocks.

If I die on this K, you’ll be hearing from me …


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