Pure Anger

There was a Facebook post the other day that asked what the first item of news is that you remember.  My family never had the news on very much.  Mum doesn’t like that kind of negativity in the house.  But I do remember the case of James Bulger.  I doubt anyone in the UK could ever forget that one.

For people who aren’t British, James was a 2yr old who was abducted from a shopping mall in Liverpool while his mother’s back was turned for seconds.  He was then walked to a railway line, tortured, murdered and then mutilated post-mortem.  The worst part?  Yes, it sadly can be worse.  This gruesome, barbaric and inhumane act was carried out by Continue reading

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Sticks and stones

We are all told that little rhyme when we are growing up. It’s meant to keep us safe from mean words. 

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. 

It’s great in theory but it’s a lie. Words can hurt horrendously. 

It’s an obvious thing really. Don’t use the n-word to a person of colour. Don’t use the f-word to a gay person. Don’t tell someone they are ugly. Don’t point out someone’s lower than average intellect. 

You know what’s not actually socially unacceptable yet? Telling someone they are fat. 

Tonight I got in a taxi. He was so proud of himself because he remembered me. He excitedly told me that he has driven me a couple of times before. 

Wanna know why he remembered me? 

“I drive you before. I remember you. You fat.”

Now, I doubt he meant any offence. He was just really chatty. He was merely stating a fact. To him I facially look like every other white woman, no doubt. What makes me stand out is my size. 

I had this before. Years ago I slipped down some marble type stairs outside a building. There was water on them. The taxi driver told me that if I wasn’t fat, I wouldn’t have been hurt. 

Both were Pakistani. 

(Which I say not as a slur but as a fact which will play out further along in my post.)

On the flip side, when I got really sick and couldn’t eat properly for 6 plus months so lost a bunch of weight, the Filipinas that I knew couldn’t stop praising me for how sexy I was looking or how I was now beautiful. I wasn’t healthy but hey, I was looking better. 

This is what you get when you live in a melting pot. Society throws you all together and it’s fun. But with the good you have to take the bad. There was no malice meant today or when I fell. There was no malice meant when I had lost weight and suddenly looked more acceptable. But you put together different cultures and add English as a second language and sometimes you get hurt. 

There was no such excuse however for Essex born financial advisor Paul, who shouted at me in the street that I was a “fat cunt” who would never get laid. Why did he do this? (At the same time the Filipinas were telling me I was looking good, as an aside.) He decided to attack how I looked because I didn’t say goodbye as I walked off with my friends. 

I hadn’t been speaking to him. He wasn’t someone I knew. I threw a “bye” over my shoulder as I went off to flag down a cab but this wasn’t good enough for him. He called me a bunch of other things too, to the point random bystanders threatened to call the police. It wasn’t fun. 

My point is that he may have thought I was arrogant or rude, but what gave him the right to call me a fat anything? 

Then there was the guy I was seeing briefly who broke up with me by telling me if I ever wanted a boyfriend, I needed to lose weight. Again, in the aforementioned “sexy” years. 

Why, in this day and age where people are always worried about what they say and not being phobic or abusive, why is it still ok to shame fat people? 

I made it to the end of my taxi journey without crying. I made it two steps away before the floodgates opened. I am a bit embarrassed to admit that but it’s true. Despite logically knowing the taxi driver was just chatting, it hurt to know I am the fat girl. That there is nothing else remarkable about me except my weight. 

People don’t realise that it hurts. They don’t realise that some people, like me, are emotional eaters. I quit smoking. I rarely drink any more. I eat. When I am stressed or unhappy, I eat. When I don’t want to get out of bed because I am so miserable, I get up so I can have breakfast. 

Is it right? No. But it’s me. It’s how I get through the day. I don’t know how I make it sometimes but I do. 

Tonight I am having a glass of wine for dinner. And probably some crisps. Because I am hurting. 

Next time you think something mean, or you make a joke at the expense of someone fat, just take a moment to think. Make time to realise that they are a human too. Give them a silent back slap for facing the world when it’s programmed to hate them. 

Just try and be nice. 

Hairdressing Adventures in Dubai

Or, as I like to refer to it… the ongoing search for someone who doesn’t f*ck my hair up.

I had the wonderful Stylianos take care of me for so long.  He did wonders with my strange decisions of the time.  He managed to get me back to a decent blonde after it was dark brown and red.  He NEVER cut it badly.  Also, as an aside, he was a genius at up-dos (here and here).  Then he went and moved back to Greece.  I still haven’t forgiven him.

Then I found a salon in DIFC and loved the hairdresser.  She didn’t cut (I wasn’t brave enough to let her try) but the colour was perfect.  It turned out it was her last week.  Typical.  The guy who took over afterwards Continue reading

True Hollywood Horror Stories

Anyone who has seen a newspaper, a news website, heard the news on the radio, or seen a tv screen with the news playing will know that there has been a bit of a scandal in Hollywood this week.

Harvey Weinstein, a big name in both tv and movies, has been accused of sexually harassing women who work for him or audition for him.  He admitted this, made a bit of a half-hearted apology and then booked himself in for treatment at some or other clinic.

It got worse.  He was then accused of rape by multiple women.  A charge he vehemently denies apparently.

I am not going to argue the right and wrongs of Continue reading

Wanderlust? Actually, just wondering why.

I honestly don’t know where to start this post.  I know I’ve said that before but this one really has me scratching my head.  I did think about not writing but I decided that I had to.  Someone had to anyway, and that may as well be me.

Before I go any further, all opinions are my own and I have PMS on top of having had a really rubbish week at work.

So, a good friend was back in town and naturally a brunch was organised.  I wasn’t part of the decision making and booking process, but was really pleased to hear that we were heading to Continue reading

Blaze Burgers… the Verdict

 

There are no good words to start this, so have a picture instead…..

Yummmmmmmmmmm….

Blaze Burgers on JBR is where you will find the “6abooc-a Burger”, aka the Brick Burger.

The Boy and I have been borderline fantasising about this place since the restaurant launched itself in a blaze (!) Continue reading

Yay me! Yay you! Yay everyone!

I was just on Instagram having a little chat with the marvelously talented and beautiful Cara of RainyBayBlog (hello!) about self promotion.  She made a wonderful post about her many accomplishments and how proud she was of herself.  She mentioned that she felt a bit “cringy” about being so vocal and we both agreed that it’s something people need to do more often.

As a rule people are much more likely to list the things they can’t do rather than things they can.  Brits especially.  It’s viewed as bragging or being boastful and is left to pretty much every other culture to do.  If you’re a Brit and a women, it’s a near impossibility.

As an expat I have seen this over and over.  I have so many friends that have asked me to Continue reading