Staring at the clouds looking for a silver line

I have been away for a while now and I’m not going to apologise for it. Sometimes life and hormones get in the way of me waffling on the internet to no one in particular.
Since having my contraceptive implant fitted I have felt like I am losing my damn mind. There are ghosts that swirl and float around me, touching moments and sucking away all the colour and I cannot stop them. These goblins make me feel sad, prodding me until I am unable to do anything but cry. People staring at me on the train as mascara stained tears streak my face, I think someone is going to ask if I’m alright; instead I get asked directions. I don’t want these peoples pity, I don’t want to be crying at all, but the goblins clap with glee.
I have spent the last five weeks feeling insane. I shouldn’t feel like this. Exciting things are happening, I am loved and I am in love. After the chasm of losing my mother last year, the ladder has given me more rungs to climb and I am making progress. Due to this sudden surge of hormones skittering around my body like an intense game of Air Hockey though, a couple of the rungs have broken, and I slipped.
I have been doing my best to try and be my normal. To try not to keep from burdening the man I love with my insane reasonings for why I’m crying for the fourth time that day. This isn’t me. I suffer with mental health issues and I am not afraid to speak about them, but this isn’t my wheel house of anxiety, this is pure misery.
I had no idea that this small piece of plastic tubing in my arm would turn my even keeled lunacy into this woman I don’t recognise but cries a lot. Once the floodgates open I have little control to close them again. I have always tried to conduct my tears behind closed doors, so it’s becoming very embarrassing when I’m on the train and even when I have finished crying and want to eat my cheese, people are still staring at me.
I feel a tonne of guilt for often making Christopher feel helpless in the moments when I can’t catch my breath because I am crying so hard but I don’t know why. I just know that I feel overwhelmingly sad. My foibles are a lot to deal with at the best of times, but currently I know I must be a nightmare. I’m trying to hold it together.
When surrounded by those that support and love me, that want to spend time in my company I am held together tighter. It’s easier to hold it together, they stop my organs from leaking out of the big slit down my side. When I’m alone again I find it much harder to bandage, and often I am swayed to the grey and consumed by the colourless.
I have been told that my hormones will settle, and I know that they will at some point, but oh my am I exhausted. Grief and anxiety are grueling and demanding in their own ways, but this feels self inflicted and layered with guilt.
Trying my best to repair the broken rungs so I can see and feel the warmth of the sunshine again is a long process, but by writing again I have made a start.
My mum knew I was in a rough place when I would stop singing, but I am finding my voice again every now and then. I hope that means an establishment of cordial relations will soon be underway. That this tiresome rapprochement will soon be done with and I will be back to my normal.

I missed September’s monthly photo blog (sneak peek above), so I’ll combine those with Octobers and have a double feature. Hopefully now I have dipped my toe back into the water I will be writing more.

Oh you begged me to keep you in that house on the hill, looking out for love

And with the new light there was young hope, to underline the meaning and carve our names in.
At the end of August.

For a girl that revels in the general melancholic nature that bestows autumn, August has been far too hot for my liking. The striking sunsets have been a little compensation for the stifling and sticky heat, but not enough to make me fall in love with the summer. The steel grey skies and gentle fleeting kisses of cold on my bare skin are exciting to me. So, with this months photos we say farewell to the summer.

August, week one.
Sunsets over water are one of my favourite things in the world to see. A congratulations for surviving the day, a reminder to rest now. I had to capture this beautiful one, even if it did mean strangers staring at me. Then Snapchat blessed us with a filter that made us look like Bratz dolls, and I couldn’t pass that up. Followed up by more boats moored on a very still sea. It was a lovely evening for a stroll (okay, Pokemon hunting. shh…), I’m sure you’re all aware of my love of boats by now.

August, week two.
A lunch out at a firm family favourite, The Urchin in Hove, with my dad, nan and Floss. Some delicious seafood was devoured and a cheeky glass of Pimms was well and truly enjoyed. I didn’t have time to sort my hair out so had to throw it up one morning. It reminded me of cheerleader hair and this pleased me. It’s the simple things in life. Ah, my phone charger, perfectly safe to still be using I’m sure. right?

August, week three.
I needed American pancakes with chocolate sauce, syrup and sprinkles for pudding one evening. Yes, needed. I don’t often crave sweet things, and rarely have anything sweet to follow my dinner but it was necessary that night. My neighbour has these ridiculous fifteen foot aerials in his garden, this is the view I get when laying in my bed. I have come to like them in an odd way, they frame the sky nicely on nights like this. Floss has just qualified to be a hairdresser, so I asked her to re-bleach my pink strip as it hadn’t been done in about two years. It was so pretty when she too it off, this baby pink candyfloss colour emerged from the lingering pink. It’s a shame it was a little patchy and I couldn’t keep it this colour.

August, week four.
It was bank holiday weekend and Christopher was here. We ventured to see a local cathedral and it was beautiful. I, like my mother, have always enjoyed a church. We don’t subscribe to a particular belief set that would warrant us attending a church but I can always appreciate the beauty. Stained glass windows are magical. It’s been a while since I haven’t just straightened my hair, but the humidity and the wind made me remember why I had been doing as such. I looked like a lion by the early afternoon. On the Sunday we went into town to catch up with some friends, and meet Meredith’s lovely new boyfriend. This is a terrible snapshot of such a lovely afternoon but I accidentally deleted the better one, typical. Gorgeous friends, lovely catching up and even debates about who would win in a fight – a Dragon or a Unicorn (clearly the unicorn Theo, they’re magic!).

A delightful end to the last month of summer.

It’s a hard life to live, so live it well. I’ll be your friend and not in pretend, I know you girl

My inspirational women are back and to kick us off is Erika. We met at age eleven in secondary school and quickly became inseparable for the next four or so years. The bond we made then will forever tie us together as friends, even if we haven’t lived in the same town for eight years. Erika will always be my friend that I remember hazy summer days spent laughing and singing with; her family became mine and we faced the world together her and I. A woman who constantly moves forward and takes risks even when intrepid to begin with. Her work ethic has always been inspiring as well as her drive to see new places. To watch my teenage partner in crime flourish and become the woman she is today makes me grateful to have such a friend in my life.

Name: Erika

Age: 26

Location: Originally from Brighton, living in Nottingham

How have the women in your life shaped you and your ideals as a woman?
I’m lucky to have a mixture of both ‘traditional’ and unconventional women to look up to from my home-baking, retired school teacher Granny to my ale-loving, biker Mum! Between them they’ve shown me it’s perfectly fine to be either extreme or anywhere in the middle.

How do you deal with body image pressures and accepting yourself?
I try not to compare myself too much to other people because everyone is different and variety is what makes us all interesting. I think people are getting better at remembering that the images we are bombarded with from magazines and social media etc are made to look more perfect than any real human ever could! It would be great to see more varied models without the need to make it a ‘feature’. Can’t we just include plus size or petite models without pointing them out as such??
I’ve been on a weight loss journey myself for the past 18 months and the closer I get to feeling like the old me, the more comfortable I feel in my own skin. I am also extremely lucky to have a wonderful, kind boyfriend who really does seem to love me through thick and thin – literally!

What beauty product is a must for you?
Anyone who knows me knows I am rubbish at being a girl and never got into make up or beauty products. I am, however, OBSESSED with eyebrows and cannot cope without my Tweezerman tweezers. I feel like a werewolf without them! I love admiring other women’s eyebrows!

Do you have a piece of advice for teenage you that you think would help growing into a woman easier?
Probably just to stop trying so hard! True friends will like you and one day someone will love you just exactly as you are.

I think we need to be more open about women’s bodily functions such as periods. It is a natural process that we are made to feel is taboo. How did you deal with yours at first and do you have any tips?
Oh god I cried! I was 11 and I remember trying to tell my Mum, but she got annoyed because I couldn’t get my words out, so I told my older sister who told my Mum for me and then they were both great. It must be so hard for single Dads to go through this with their daughters and I’m so grateful to have had that support. I do agree that there’s still a taboo about such a normal thing. I was shopping with my boyfriend the other day and he made a comment about all sanitary products being “gross”. I feel like I have to hide away from him for a week every month! These days I find periods an inconvenience more than anything and try to use my pills to time them in a way that won’t affect my social life too much!

What songs do you listen to that strike a spark in you and make you feel like you can take on the world?
Since I was about 11 I’ve loved Alanis Morisette. Her song ‘You Learn‘ is a great, singalong life lesson! Dolly Parton’s Jolene is not a typical love song begging her man to come back, but instead appealing to the ‘other’ woman’s better nature not to steal her man. Such a classic and I love covering this one myself. A fantastic Scottish folk singer called Karine Polwart wrote a beautiful song based on the tragic story of how she lost her husband. It’s called ‘The Sun’s Coming Over the Hill‘ and is a reminder that however bad things seem, there is a light at the end of the tunnel and things will get better. Highly recommended. When I’m running, you can’t beat a bit of of Katy Perry’s Roar or Pink’s So What to get you through the wall!

Who in your life inspires you?
Most people in my life inspire me, otherwise they probably wouldn’t be in my life anymore. My friends have a huge range of qualities that I admire and would love to master myself, from unshakeable confidence (Sam) to selflessness (Med) and incredible strength (Lydia). My sister in law recently had a baby and didn’t want to go back to her old job. Instead she has set up 3 beauty businesses from home and her drive and positivity amazes me every day. Check out Forever Living Aloeholic and Bethberry Nail Wraps.

How has age affected your perception of womanhood?
As I’ve got older I feel less competition and more solidarity with other women. I’ve taken a leaf out of my sister’s book in that if I think another woman looks nice, I’ll tell her! Some people are so taken aback if a stranger compliments their dress or their hair, but I think we need more of this championing of one another.

What does Girl Power (/feminism) mean to you?
I’m definitely all for equal rights but I wouldn’t necessarily consider myself a feminist. Humans work best together and I do believe sometimes men and women might have different qualities or ways or looking at something which can compliment each other. Feminism is a bit of a buzz word at the moment and it’s brilliant that people are reconsidering those old fashioned views of feminists as man-haters who don’t shave their armpits! That’s definitely not what it’s about!

How would you set about making Gender Equality more equal? Perhaps more gender neutral bathrooms or scrapping ‘tampon tax’?
I think it’s absolutely ridiculous that men and women doing the exact same job can be paid different amounts, as though one is more or less valuable than the other. Likewise I think important things like paternity leave still need addressing and improving.

Independent business women spotlight!

I’m afraid I don’t know much about the business world but if you don’t mind I would like to highlight the work of a female scientist as I think they are often overlooked. Charlotte Uhlenbrook is a pioneering zoologist, particularly known for her work in animal communication. In the past she has stated she doesn’t feel her peers take her seriously because she can’t possibly be beautiful AND intelligent! (She is!). If you are interested, take some time to read her books, she’s fascinating 🙂

What is something you do to take time for yourself?
I’m very much a social person and really don’t enjoy being on my own. I go to a Pilates class which is so relaxing and makes me feel like I’m having ‘me’ time without actually being by myself! I also love half an hour with my piano or guitar.

What has been your biggest struggle as a woman?
I do battle with the kind of woman I want to be. Sometimes I wish I was glamorous and feminine but at the same time I think life is too short! This pretty much sums up my daily struggle:

How has your sexuality shaped you as a woman?
I’m very happy now in a long-term relationship, but I do think everyone (male and female) should experience a period of casual dating (and casual sex if they want to!) to find out what they are looking for in the other person. For me that period was during uni and my first year living in South Africa and I did enjoy feeling in control. Unfortunately there are still double standards, where the men in this situation are hailed as heroes and the women are considered sluts. As long as it’s safe and legal, nobody should be ashamed of their sexual preferences.

(I do not own these images).

 

She just might be out of her mind, well she’s got baggage and it’s all the emotional kind

It is often said that you have to love yourself before you can love someone else. I don’t believe that’s particularly true, but what I do believe is that you can start to love yourself and become more relaxed in your body when someone else loves you. Learning to love yourself through someone else’s love of you.
We all have our insecurities and body hang ups, no one is fully content but being a plus size woman my body image comes under the scrutiny of strangers every time I step out of the house. I hear sniggers and whispers, catcalls and some incredibly confronting comments upon my appearance from people I have never met before. For some unknown reason society has deemed it almost acceptable for this behaviour to occur.
Over the past few years I have tried to take ownership and be happy in the body I have, finding inspiration and courage in the body positive communities of plus size women on social media. I have finally found women with bodies that represent me; looking amazing and doing incredible things. I’ll admit there is still a long way for us to go in changing peoples perception of us, whether that’s within the clothing industry or having TV and film recognising us as something other than just the ‘funny women’ and realising our potential as the sex symbol.
Throughout my life I have rarely sought the approval of others in anything I have done. Yet, when you label someone for long enough, even the strongest of us can start to believe it eventually. The mean words that get screamed at me in the street start to penetrate the force field I have tried to build around myself. And sometimes, if the blow is hard enough and hits just the right spot, a crack can appear. A chink in my armour. These words that I have had thrown at me over and over since the age of ten have taken their toll on my self worth. Slipping in to my anxieties and seeping into the way I conduct myself daily, these aggressive mean spirited narrations have altered me as a person.
It took me five months to gather the courage to meet my boyfriend, terrified that he would run away screaming on sight because I am not a conventional size. Of course he knew this before we met in person and my anxiety wasn’t allowing him the benefit of being a decent human and accepting me as me.
Until my early twenties the men I often encountered were still being governed by what their friends might think, regardless of how they actually felt. That coupled with my underlying force field traumas always left me in the role of the good friend. I stopped trying around men, I wasn’t interested in playing this weird game of snakes and ladders. I didn’t want to keep seeing them slide down snakes every time they realised my appearance, even if they liked it and liked me, wouldn’t be accepted by their peers. Living in that weird limbo just cracks the force field further and I didn’t have time for that.
But then this man entered my life unexpectedly. I wasn’t looking to be rejected by someone elses insecurities so I never even tried things like Tinder. This was just a photo sharing app I downloaded as a way to distract myself after my mother passed away. I posted a selfie, always knowing my best angles, you wouldn’t even know I was plus size, but he was still sweet and interested even after I told him.
Having my fleshy curves admired and my wobbly stomach kissed can work wonders for a girls confidence. The parts of me that I was only just coming to acknowledge are entirely accepted and honoured by this man. He is not embarrassed of me as I was myself, standing by my side and telling me that I am beautiful. I think stretch marks are bewitching; mermaid scales and secret silver streaked maps written across my body. I didn’t always feel that way, embarrassed by them when getting changed for P.E. and having other girls ask what they were. Whilst I desperately wanted to be like these confident plus size women I admired, it took seeing myself through his eyes to make me believe that it is possible. I feel less need to try and make myself smaller and apologise for my appearance. He tells me I am beautiful, unprompted, even when I am convinced I am looking my absolute worst. Feeling more at peace and less aware of the looks and whispers going on around me. I have seen my friend, who had her own body confidence issues, become more accepting of herself because of the way her boyfriend loves her.
I am not saying that my self worth is reliant upon a man, because I don’t think anyone should be reliant upon someone else to feel worthy in this life. Sometimes though, it takes standing back and viewing something from a different angle to really allow you to appreciate the beauty. And with every kiss and sleep laced declaration of love, the insecurities I have had over the years become smaller, beginning to fade away. My nonconformist body is loved by this man and now, in turn, by me.

 

I was honoured to be ask to write something for Christa’s blog, A Voluptuous Mind. This piece is a result of that and one of my favourite essays I’ve ever written. Mrs Bass said some ever so lovely things about me too *blushes*:

“This week’s Guest Post comes from one of the most beautiful writers I know. I’m not a fan solely for the stunning prose and vivid imagery conjured up by her words, I’m also a bit of a fan girl for the frank way in which Lydia speaks. She’s also incredibly inspiring when it comes to her inner strength and I hope she knows it.

Lydia and I met ‘doing nails’ at a short-lived salon in Brighton and although that never took off, I’m very grateful for the talented and interesting folk I met there, which of course includes this lady here. If you like what you read here, which you definitely will, go check her out on her own blog, Belle of the Bluegrass.”

Check out this Inspirational Woman Q&A I did with Christa, and of course her other guest blog writers.

I wanna listen to the trees, maybe stare up at the clouds. Yes, I want to get lost, let’s get lost

Another month down, we are now in August. June’s photos went up a little late, so this feels like July was even shorter than it was. One more summer month filled with great company and magnificent skies.
I have spent the last couple of days planning and writing the next months blog posts, so don’t worry – it isn’t becoming just my monthly photos. However, I hope you enjoy seeing a small collection of snapshots for July.

July, week one.
I am sure by now that you know I love a good sunset/sky photo. There’s something I have always been drawn to and felt the need to capture in the sky. This one was taken from my boyfriend’s garden, and the light is just spectacular. A fairly self explanatory selfie, always in my favourite necklace from Sugar and Vice. Christopher couldn’t decide what to do one day and as we were driving we came across a place to see Meerkats and a whole host of other cute animals that you could stroke. I wanted to put one of each in my bag to bring home though…

July, week two.
The second week of July brought showerwashywashy time into Dolly’s life. After ten years she finally accepts that this is going to happen from time to time and she goes along with it now, albeit unhappily. The process takes Floss and I to both keep her in the shower (much harder with a wet room), actually wash her and then quickly run after her downstairs to let her in the garden to rub herself on everything. May or June saw us go to the pier and we chose a bubble gun (for the dog) with all of the tickets we had accumulated. I think my sister and Sam enjoyed playing with it far more than Dolly did though. My dad came home with these curiously named burgers one day for dinner, we are still none the wiser as to why they are labelled this way though.

July, week three.
A selfie taken whilst sat under a tree with the dog, trying to keep up both cool whilst we waited for family to return from fruit picking in sweltering heat in the Kent countryside. A beautiful sunshine yellow Sunflower to place next to a photo of my mum. And the most delicious banana, strawberry and cherry sorbet/smoothie hybrid I’ve ever made. A photo of the haul my sister and Sam managed to pick when we went down to Kent, slowly working our way through the punnet of fruits.

July, week four.
It had been a very long time since I had seen the Surrogate Mothers Club, so it was arranged that we meet one evening for drinks and a catch up. There may have been some super sneaky shots consumed whilst waiting for our other drinks to be ready each time too. A really lovely evening sat outside chatting and enjoying a gin or five. The week following that weekend left me feeling really anxious, an underlying feeling of dread kept washing over me and I couldn’t shake it; as much as I felt I was going mad. So I slapped some makeup on (hence the selfie) and took myself off to see Christopher for twentyfour hours. Although I couldn’t fully shake the panic that evening, I was feeling much better on the Sunday. I could breathe a little better and I think it was just what I needed, a change of scene and pace. Another glorious sky photo, it was so blue and perfect just before I had to come home (which wasn’t as straight forward as it should be, two trains and a car ride home, thanks to Southern Rail, the most useless train providers ever).

Home is such a lonely place without you, home is such a lonely place

It has been about eighteen months since my mother passed away. If you’re new here this may give you some background as to how I was feeling then. I still miss my mother every day, my heart aches to see her smile. I was no stranger to grief before my mum passed, but I was unaware just how hard it can wallop you, leaving you feeling breathless and disorientated. Grief has changed me, a little for worse and a little for better.
I am not as good at being alone as I once was. Before, my own company was something I would often seek, spending hours on my own and being quite content. Loss has made me anxious when those I love aren’t close or they’re difficult to reach. At the back of my mind I am worried that something bad has happened and I won’t know and won’t be able to save them, like I couldn’t with my mum. I am scared that they will leave me. The swirling oppressive panic rises and the haze can be hard to break free from. Irritating for those I burden with my messages, I am working on trying to hold down the adrenaline and assumption that everyone will leave me.
I am kinder, my edges are softened. Caring for someone you love whole heatedly will always have an effect upon you. I had to teach myself to be more patient, compassionate and empathetic. It’s not that I didn’t want to be, I just found it hard after spending years blocking out people’s negative comments about me, to let the walls come down. However, when the person who has cared for you and done everything she can to provide a loving and well rounded existence for you, the walls come tumbling down. Looking after my mum showed me how to be a little kinder than I have to be. I wanted her to know that I loved her; I hope she knew just how much. I hope I was kind enough.
Grief has changed my relationships. A different family dynamic had emerged when I was caring for my mother, but after her death it has changed once again. I have distanced myself from certain people because I have realised that I do not need or want their negative energy in my life. Our existence is too short and filled with horrible things that we have no control over, so to take decisive action upon the things we can change is something I am working on. That being said, I have also had the chance to strengthen previous relationships. The big group of women in my life that I had always had the ‘my mum’s friends’ relationship with have now become my friends and an added support system should I need them. The Surrogate Mothers Club.
My tolerance for other peoples shitty behaviour has depleted. Although I have never been backwards in coming forwards in my opinions, I would often let others get away with their hostile and hurtful attitudes towards me. For years I allowed comments on my appearance to make me feel small and angry and at twenty-six I still feel sick every time I have to walk past workmen. The panic rises as I know the staring or the jeers are coming, keeping my head down and hoping that if I don’t make eye contact, maybe this time it won’t happen. However, over the past couple of years (as you may have read here before), I am learning to take proactive stands against such people when this happens. It isn’t just strangers in the street that I have felt the need to put in their place, but aforementioned distanced people too. I try to do my part to take a stand for those that haven’t found their voice yet too and if you’re mean to my sister, I’m coming for you. I do not need people in my life that do not encourage and empower the people around them.
Today will mark seven years since I lost my Grandma, the other woman in my life that loved me unconditionally. To lose my maternal twin pillars before they saw me flourish, find myself and love is heart breaking. I hope in my lifetime and through my actions I can be as clever, sparkling and fabulous as they were.
Something terrible has to occur for us to experience grief and loss, but once we get there something good can bloom from the darkness. Eventually your eyes begin to adjust and you can start to make out the silhouettes around you and stop being so scared of the blinding, smothering blackness. It won’t be easy and I’m under no illusion that it will ever end, but you adjust and endure, bend with the changing tides.

“The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same, nor would you want to.”

My hopes are so high, that your kiss might kill me. So won’t you kill me, so I die happy.

I can’t quite grasp the fact that we are now in the middle of July already. The month of June seemed to whizz past as it was so packed full of events and people. I was thrown well and truly out of my comfort zone several times, had a couple of panic attacks and I cried in Sainsburys. However, it was spent with the best people, old and new.
June twentysixteen.

June, week one.
It was my sister, Florence’s nineteenth birthday this month. However, I knew I would be away for the actual day so I made her an Oreo cheese cake before hand to celebrate. My mum always used to make our cakes, so now Floss and I take turns making each others birthday cakes. We continued the early birthday celebrations with her boyfriend Sam and Christopher; going for lunch and then to the pier. My sister has always had an affinity with 2p machines, throwing hideous tantrums as a child once she ran out of coins. So, we thought we should go and play on the machines and get sugary pier food. I am now the proud owner of three plastic dinosaur key rings, and I got a slush puppy, of which I couldn’t finish because it was pure sugar. The Snapchat puppy filter is one of my favourites.

June, week two.
My very first festival, Download. This consisted of getting up and leaving the house before half-five in the morning. Ouch. Christopher drove us up to the midlands, where we pitched our tent and almost melted in the heat. We had a wander around, I had a panic attack. Friday was the first day of music at Download and we made our way up to the main arena. The heavens opened shortly after we got there and I have never seen rain quite like it. The rain drops were huge and the force it came down at actually took my breath away and washed the entirety of my makeup off. Throughout the weekend the rain didn’t stop, and by Sunday evening we were waiting to see Iron Maiden in a good six inches of slop. I think my first festival experience threw me in at the deep end weather wise. However, I had a great time, not enough sleep and found an appreciation for walking boots I never thought I would have.

June, week three.
A train selfie, on my way to Christopher’s for his brother’s wedding. This meant that I had to wear a dress and I hadn’t worn one of those in almost twenty years. The wedding ceremony was beautiful, China looked stunning and the bridesmaids were ethereal in their dresses. The groom and groomsmen all looked handsome and smart in their suits, but they may have been a little upstaged by Bella the dog. The reception marquee was delightfully rustic with wild flowers, exposed wood and such tastefully decorated table settings. I met so many lovely people, had many compliments on the colour of my hair and survived an entire day in my dress. Congratulations Richard and China. On the Sunday Christopher and I headed to play some pirate adventure golf and get ice creams (I had an orange sorbet and oh my goodness it was exquisite) before I had to come back home.

June, week four.
Another selfie, the lighting was good and my makeup was fresh, deal with it. The weekend sunshine took Christopher and I to the marina to meet Kit for a couple of drinks. Looking at boats and blue skies is one of my favourite things, its so calming (although it’s a completely different story if you’re the one on the boat and terrible at mooring. But that’s an anxiety filled story for another day). After a few drinks we headed to the new UV Jurassic mini golf place, I lost out to first place by two points. It was fun but I definitely think they need to expand and make the twelve holes into eighteen as it was over fairly quickly.

June was busy, pushed me more than I usually allow myself to be and exciting. I slept in a tent again after vowing to never do so years ago, had a shower in a space age port-a-shower and didn’t own one piece of clothing that didn’t have mud on. I met some wonderful people and was moved to tears by love. A month in my life I won’t be forgetting in a hurry.

So take my hand, I will walk you around in a mask

I saw this article doing the rounds on Facebook last week and have only just gotten around to reading it myself. Its click bait title peeked my interest immediately 15 Thoughts Every Guy Has When Dating A Bigger Woman. If you know me, or you are a regular reader you will know that I am a plus size woman (one that is in a relationship) and that I will champion all women, regardless of size, age, ethnicity etc. whenever given the chance. I believe the article has since been removed from the site (since yesterday afternoon), thankfully I hand wrote some of the parts I found most obnoxious so I could discuss them here.
By the end of the first paragraph I already knew that I would have a headache by the end from the amount of eye rolling this mans patronising views were going to cause me. The absurd article begins by explaining that when you see a man with a plus size woman that you “may feel a little bad for the guy”, but hey “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”. This piece of writing is supposed to be pro-plus size. In the opening paragraph you can already feel the writers own bias against us. Do not be fooled though, the article goes on to offend slimmer women and men with brain cells alike. The arrogance continues when author of such nonsense, Jim Hogue writes “a guy is not supposed to want to date larger women. But so many do and don’t feel bad about it at all” and tops it off with “props to a man who cares about happiness over appearances”. You can see where this article is already going, let the bullet pointed snobbery begin.
15. Your date is tough. Apparently, we have spent our years mowing the lawn, fishing and learning how to take care of ourselves because no men would. We have not had time to perfect our skinny girl damsel in distress routine that all average sized women possess.
First off, all women should be encouraged to be strong and independent. This has nothing to do with size and everything to do with girl power and taking care of ourselves first and foremost.
14. My girl can cook. Cue eye roll now. Obviously, us bigger ladies spend all our time cooking and we are just so good at it, so now that we have a man to take care of we have thrown our hands up to the sky in thanks. “While it might be fun to be out clubbing with some hot woman, it is just as fun to stay at home and have a woman cook for him and take care of him”, did anyone else choke whilst swallowing this piece of the 1950s?!  If this utter balderdash is to believed, half of the population should be trying out for Master Chef as we speak.
13. Calorie counting is out. Skinny women only eat chicken breasts and salads; and they will shame you for wanting a pizza. However, fat girls will be so delighted when you phone to tell us you want pizza that your only worry will be that you now have to buy two pizzas. Although on the days should you not want pizza I am sure I could rustle up some deep fried bars of lard with a side helping of my self worth.
12. It is good for his confidence. “Some guys just lack confidence. They don’t feel ready to ask out the women they truly desire”. Wow. The gist of this drivelish paragraph is that these shy men are just using the fat women until they are finally granted courage from the Wizard of Oz, to finally ask out the hot skinny women of their dreams. Plus size ladies aren’t desirable, we are just a stopgap before you move onto better things. Training wheels.
11. He might like them better. This is the one point that may have had some actual truth to it, until Hogue spread his obnoxious and offensive views through it. “This is a lot more common than most people think”…”so many people look at a guy with a plus size woman and feel kind of bad for him”. We all have a preference and yes, some men do find larger women more attractive. Clearly he is bewildered by this fact. Being attracted to a certain type of person is not something to be proud about or receive a medal for, it is not a duty or a charitable service.
10. They are easy to talk to. Managing to once again offend all women: “so many women that look traditionally hot have never really learned the art of conversation” followed up by “A plus size woman is the exact opposite. They are used to working their personality”. Do slimmer women never speak unless to berate you over your pizza cravings? And us fatties are just so pleased we don’t have to shove our bubbly personalities around for you to notice us for once.
9. Picking a place to eat is easy. Why even bother taking us out to eat, just fill up a trough in the garden and let us have at it. Skinny women only want feta and olives, fat women will eat whatever, wherever, whenever. We just want to eat, all the time. Oh, the eye rolling!
8. Cuddling is the best. We “should hire themselves out as professional huggers” because we are just going to be “more happy for that kind of attention”. No one has ever wanted to even look at our repulsive squishy bodies before, so we will accept any physical contact, from strangers in receipt of payment in Mars bars.
7. She is a built in workout buddy. Thin chicks are apparently absent in your relationship because they’re always at the gym or running, putting your male ego into a tail spin. However, us wobbly ladies have no clue how a gym or even exercise works, silly us. So when you take us to work out with you, we are just pleased you want to spend time with us, whilst you can take it a little easier, because we have no idea how these running machine contraptions work…
6. There is less pressure on how you look. “The woman you are dating is not going to care even a little bit about how much you weigh or how much you eat”. Clearly we don’t care about how we look, so we aren’t fussy about how you look. Just as long as you pretend to like us until you’re ready to ask out that skinny woman you truly desire, we are quite content.
5. Jealousy is a thing of the past. Having a super hot girlfriend (who is skinny, because if you haven’t been following – larger ladies are not attractive or desirable), can be a mine field with all of the unwanted attention from other predatory males. This is why lots of men, if they’re being truthful, date plus size. No longer do you have to worry about unwanted eyes on your lady…
4. They tend to be funny. Fat, jolly women, that’s us. Personally I am fairly sure that comedic timing and dress size don’t correlate; but who am I to argue with the stereotypes of yesteryear.
3. They tend to be eager to please. “In their minds you have looked passed their physical issues and are into them for who they are. Which in turn makes them willing, in all sorts of ways”. Okay there, creepy master manipulator. Plenty of people have insecurities which others prey upon to make them do things they are not comfortable with. This is not size exclusive or acceptable to do to another human.
2. You can take her anywhere. Because we have no friends or opinions, self worth or value. Please let us come everywhere with you, we are just desperate for the company. “A typical guy that dates a plus size woman really gets used to hanging with someone agreeable for a change”. We will become indebted to you for saving our lonely fat asses, please let us serve you, master.
1. They are easy to ask out. Us plus size ladies will always say yes (we’re desperate as Hogue states repeatedly). Why bother getting rejected by an ‘average’ sized woman when you can bet on a sure thing with us fat girls.

I am beginning to wonder if this man has ever met any women in his entire life. The whole poisonous article is made up of stereotypes and undertones of abusive behaviour. I am pleased that this terribly misinformed and badly written article has been removed from the internet.
As women we need to stick together and love ourselves. We are strong, intelligent and amazing beings. This man needs to think about the ramifications of his odiously outrageous comments.
I wrote this piece last year when I stumbled upon an article entitled “How to come to terms with your attraction to fat girls”. This was a well executed, insightful piece written from a woman’s perspective for Vice. It inspired a much more positive and retrospective look at myself than this revolting ‘work’ by Jim Hogue. My post is one of the most popular on my blog, and features a heap of fabulous plus size women who inspire body confidence and women in general.
If you made it to the end of this very long piece, gold star for you!

Dear Jim Hogue, this is what a plus size woman really looks like. In case you imagined us all to be giant bags of flesh with no self worth, opinion or feelings.
Always be a little kinder than you have to be.

And we’re holding on when there’s nothing left to hold on to, so don’t tell me when it’s gone ’cause all I have left is you

May has come to a close and I’m a little sad about this. The past month has been filled with the best company, music, great memories. I am so pleased I started curating my months on here because it means I get to relive the lovely memories I’ve made. So, here is my May twentysixteen.

May, week one.
I love tiny plump sweet tomatoes. This day I ate an entire punnet to myself for lunch, it was a great decision. When I was seven (and my sister was born so my mum couldn’t be bothered to argue with me about it) I stopped wearing skirts/dresses/coats. Now nineteen years later as a grown up, I have to venture back into this world I do not feel at home in. This was one of many rejected options to wear to my boyfriend’s brother’s wedding next month. Being a plus size woman limits my choices of dresses and skirts, so it has certainly been a mountain of a task. However, stay tuned to see the dress I have (I think) decided upon in another blog post. May brought Lewis Watson back into my life, Floss and I went to see him play a “I want to see if you like my new songs before my album is released” gig in Shepherds Bush. We found a cute Mexican place for guacamole and delicious soft tacos.

May, week two.
A selfie, naturally. This week gave us more sunshine and a trip out for lunch with my aunt. We went to this cafe that is hidden away beside the sea, a favourite in our family. They sell the best banoffee cake too, so I made sure to grab some to bring home on my way out. A warm week called for a tiny Twister ice lolly, which Dolly thought should be for her, she was out of luck though.

May, week three.
If you have read the post before this one you will know that I hit twenty-thousand views on my blog this week. That’s amazing and I am so thankful for each and every single one. I love coming here and just writing whatever I feel like writing; but to have that many people willingly come and read it is incredible. Christopher makes excellent scrambled eggs, and he makes them for me every weekend I see him. I was craving them during the week though so I had to go it alone – they were pretty damn good. The Friday of that week brought a trip to Portsmouth with my sister that involved a much more complicated journey than necessary to the Passport Office. However, we made it in time and even did some shopping after before I went to meet Christopher for the weekend.

May, week four.
On Saturday we went for lunch with two of Christopher’s friends and their very cute and extremely chilled, most well behaved baby I’ve ever met. After lunch we decided to go and play adventure golf, which involved some playing in an arcade before hand. Amazingly I didn’t come last and tied joint second with Christopher. Sunday evening was home time and we passed this glorious masterpiece of nature on our way to drop me off. The bank-holiday weekend was filled with family as we had a very boozy gathering of people over. We drank lots, danced lots and laughed abundantly; it was the loveliest of days spent with some of my favourite people.

I didn’t want to deprive you of some live Lewis Watson clips, enjoy.

View this post on Instagram

Someday we will all be ghosts 🌙 #lewiswatson

A post shared by Lydia (@bluegrassbelle_) on May 4, 2016 at 4:20pm PDT

View this post on Instagram

I love you, I don't think you care ✨💕#lewiswatson @levvis

A post shared by Lydia (@bluegrassbelle_) on May 30, 2016 at 9:13am PDT

You’re everything that I hoped for, that’s why I gave you my all

I came to write about something exciting, but first I am going to vent about the crappy day I am currently having (the exciting bit does come, I promise).
Today began with wiggly anxious feet, which is never the way a lady wishes to arise from her slumber. With too much unsolicited adrenaline my extremities tingle and I need to release this, so feet wiggling like I’m in Footloose is my usual go-to. Checking the time on my phone I realise I still have an hour before my alarm insists I get up. So I attempt to go back to sleep but I am met with the anxious thoughts that accompany my eighties dance movie choreography. Great. Then I receive a text from my sister to inform me that Dolly (the dog) has been sick a lot in the garden. Yippee. By this point it’s clear that I am not going back to sleep. I drag myself out of bed, eyes still mostly asleep whilst I get dressed to walk the dog and face the day. As I head downstairs I am met with an odor of vomit and two huge piles of sick. One of them is a revolting tangle of green slimy grass. Oh joy. As I go towards the back of the house to let the dog in to the garden, what do I see? Oh yes, that would be another 3 piles (this time its the raw chicken from last nights dinner), slick and putrid. Excellent. Then there is more in the garden and more in the living room I discover. Poor dog, clearly shes unwell but also, gross. It’s not even half nine in the morning yet. After spending a fair while doing my best Cinderella before she meets the prince impression, I walk the dog; who spends most of her time eating more grass…
My shopping is due to be delivered between ten and twelve today, so I await its arrival and get on with a multitude of boring house chores. However, the shopping still hasn’t arrived half an hour after the time-slot has ended. Weird. After logging into my account it would appear that I didn’t finish the transaction yesterday so our shopping won’t be coming today. And I haven’t even mentioned my strange enchanted hand that keeps going a little numb every now and then. I get to climb into a dark hole and never come out again now, right?!
Okay, I get that worse things happen at sea and certainly worse things have happened in my life, but today’s morning has felt relentlessly bleak. Roll on tomorrow evening and being with the boy I am incredibly fond of in a place that helps me breathe a little easier (when I’m not feeling anxious anyway *monkey covering eyes emoji*).

Now, onto much better news. On Tuesday the seventeenth of May, this blog hit twenty thousand overall views! I am so excited about this. I never thought I would actually keep up blogging, and I certainly never thought many if any people would want to read it. But I did and you did and now I’ve hit a huge milestone for someone who has just written a whole passage about dog vomit.
Thank you to everyone who reads my blog regularly or if you are entirely new and you’re helping me on my way to thirty thousand. I appreciate every view, every comment and every share I receive. You are all lovely people and I am so pleased that anyone would want to read my work.
I thought that I would link you my Facebook page, so should you wish to keep up to date and notified when a new post is published you can do so. Or, if you are a fellow WordPress user, feel free to hit ‘Follow’.
Here are some of my favourite pieces I have published on here, in case you missed them:

• Hold your head high, heavy heart (- Dear teenagers, it gets better or at least different).
• I have the dance moves of a mustache and the singing voice that sounds like a beard on the inside of my cheeks (- for all that love those with a beard and those that have careless whiskers to tame).
• And I am finally seeing that I was the one worth leaving (- Inspired by Frank Turner and moving on from something that never quite fit).
• You hid there last time, you know we’re gonna find you (-My tale of always being the fat girl and how some builders harassed me).
• But I am a ghost, just haunting myself (- An exercise in dissipating writers block, melancholic whimsy at its best).
• I’m ready to hope, swing me out of the low; wide awake in the glow, can’t do it alone (- Sadness and hope combined in melancholia. My canary sings no more).
• And I kissed him back like and arsonist with a pocket full of matches (-romanticised romance).

Once again, thank you.