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. 

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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

My GM Diet/Detox Experiment

As anyone who knows me or has seen my photo knows,  I carry a few extra lbs on my frame.  Or rather a lot.  Depending on which photo you have seen!  Currently however, my weight has rocketed and I don’t like it at all.  I am uncomfortable and unhappy and so I decided I needed to try something new.

The winner of my “what shall I do next” decisions was The GM Diet.

Legend has it that the bosses of General Motors were worried about the health of their staff as a number had some extra weight.  They got together with nutritionists and devised a plan to help kick start their weight loss journey.

I’m not going to set it all out here.  If you want to know about it, read Continue reading

STOP THE SPOILERS!!!!!!!

MailOnline, that means you!

I hate you.  You keep ruining the shows I am trying to watch.  I don’t read the articles but the pictures, video clips and the headlines you use tell me pretty much everything I am trying desperately NOT to know.

There are some of us who rely on catch up tv to watch the popular shows.  We can’t watch it at the time it is aired.  The reasons are numerous.  Mine is obviously that I’m an expat so I have to wait 24hrs to catch up.  But there are people in the UK who can’t either.  People who have to go to bed early.  People who work shifts.  People who are studying.  So many reasons.

So please, for the love of all things tv secrety, Continue reading

3 Day Juice Cleanse – Day 2

7.30am – Snuggle back down into duvet as no breakfast making means longer lay in.

7.45am – Go waste time in the shower.

8.00am – Start Juice 1 shots.

8.01am – Get pleasant surprise that the juice tastes better today.

8.23am – Have last shot. Continue reading

3 Day Juice Cleanse – Day One

Day One

8.00am – The Boy has charged off to Freshii in an excited whir to pick up our juices.

8.01am – Decide to hide in the shower for a bit longer.

8.15am – He is back and I’m getting nagged to come and have breakfast.

8.16am – I hate this week already.

8.20am – My drinking days have finally lead to something useful.  This nasty poopy looking juice is much more palatable if taken like a shot. Continue reading

Self Sabotage

diet-sabotage

Obvs not me.

Hands up who does self sabotages?  No, seriously.  Do you?  I need to know.  Am I the only one?

I am the queen of self sabotage.  Today is just the latest example.  I can pull 101 excuses for it but I honestly don’t know why I actually do.

Let me explain…. Continue reading