Merry Christmas! xX

The count down started weeks ago, hours have gone into the preparation, lists were made and ticked off and the world looks sparkly with lights and tinsle. It's finally here - Christmas! the time of peace on earth and good will to all (wo)men. The special time of year when cards are sent, presents are exchanged and the general feeling of good will is in the air. Hopefully. 

For any one who is brave (or stupid, depending on which way you look at it!) enough to hit the high street and attempt some good old fashioned christmas shopping best have more packed into their Mulberry then their credit cards and good will to all men. A steely resolve to tick off that list, spare change for plenty of Starbucks to keep yourself fuelled and the patience of a saint should also be neatly packed in there, along with a MAC lip gloss, some flats and an emergency bar of chocolate (it may seem excessive but trust me on this one!) The smarter and more organised among us are probably reading this now, giggling at the naivety and absurdity of us high street hitters! Cries of 'Do it all on the Internet!' can be heard coming from every organised woman in the world. Who wouldn't want to do all your christmas shopping, warm and comfy in your pj's, large vino in hand and Jamie Oliver providing cooking inspiration from the TV, it all sounds too good to be true! And for some of us it is. Internet shopping has to allow the factor of time. Time to sit there deliberating how to add the things you want. Time to get through the bizarre check out credit card security thingy (for which I can never remember the password!). Time to reset the security password. Time for your shopping to arrive. Time for it to be sent back and exchanged if needs be. And time is the one something that we don't always have. Those same people who have clicked and emailed there way through their Christmas shopping are mostly likely to be one who efficiently wrote hundreds of cards back in October, had them stamped by November and posted by the first of December. For those of us in the not so organised camp, the first of December is for buying advent calendars and considering that we may need to buy some cards. And for the shamefully unorganised of us (myself included!) with no list, no cards, no wrapping paper and no time management skills it's a Tesco run for essentials on Christmas eve. Even worse was my surprise (?!) when the shelves were have empty and I couldn't get most of what I wanted. My resolve strengthened that next year would be different! 

By closing time on christmas eve what's not been bought wont be and our attention turns to the food. As I arrived at the motherships it was clear she had bought in enough food to feed a small country, maybe for several weeks. All diet resolves crumbled at that point and my will power admitted defeat. I will be returning north at least half a stone heavier, thanks mum! Operation size zero will just have to commence in January. Along with operation detox and operation January sales. 

As the end of the big day approaches, presents have been exchanged, dinner has overwhelmed us, dad is snoring and the little sis and I are settling down to watch our five favourite men (yeah my brother in law may just be the best!!) on dvd, the end of the year begins to peak it's cheeky face around the corner. But for now, just for tonight peace and calm quietly seep over our full tummy's and happy memories, whilst we silently reflect on how lucky we are to be at home with the people we love. Not every one is that lucky xxxx

Merry Christmas ladies!!

Further Christmas Chaos.......

After weeks of dieting, days of dress shopping and hours of getting ready the night of the christmas party finally arrives! With the taxi booked, outfits sorted and make up inched on, the anticipation of a good night starts to rise. With all plans for the night firmly in place, the first bottle of vino drunk and MTV providing music and thinspiration the time to leave approached. As I trotted of in Topshops finest, balancing on Office killer heels and my hair finally having a good day, the anticipation and excitement of the night ahead started to bubble. 

One swift taxi ride, two friends picked up and a handful of change later and we arrive to start the planned evening of fun. After the faux fizz is drunk and initial shrieks of excitement have passed the enforced 4 course eating begins. The food, as with all Christmas parties was bad, really bad! But who cares when the wine is flowing and you can make your own fun. It's always amusing to watch your ever professional colleagues get more and more drunk! A few spins around the dance floor and all inhibitions are long gone. From hitting the floor to Whoops upside Your Head to tagging along in the Conga, there is a dance for all of us. As yet another bottle of wine was consumed and the room begins to spin, it's an ideal time to admire the unique, only happens once a year highlights. Despite the lack of talent at such events it never fails to amaze me as to who ends up with who. Some where between the vodka haze and the cheap food e number high, random couples start to pair off. Not pleasant viewing for those of us observing at the time and, I'm sure, not so pleasant memories for the said individuals who have to wake up and remember what/who they did the night before!! As the music gets worse and the crowds begin to thin I did what any self respecting girl would do, booked a cab to carry the party on in town!!  

Piling back into the taxi and heading straight for town, the talk turned to men, dancing and more vino! Despite the cold weather and no coats we finally made it to the club to find the afore mentioned desired things. 

As four twenty something (plus a few years!) ladies about to hit the clubs 
it is essential to look our best but
two additional bottles of wine later, it's probably not a good idea to start examining your make up in the harsh strip lighting of the toilets in a club! As I stared horrified at my translucent skin, frizzy hair and drunkenly smudged make up I realised with a sinking heart that compared to me Courtney Love looked the epitome of style and elegance. Great! At times like this the only thing a girl can do is slap on more lip gloss, down a few shots and hit the dance floor!! 

As I sat, snuggled in my warm bed the next morning, sipping tea and munching toast, hoping my head would stop banging any time soon as there was Christmas shopping to be done! I reflected on the giggles we had had and the memories that we had made. Was the worry and stress of what to wear and all the planning worth it? Did the dieting and dress shopping seem worth the effort? For most of us it will have been, after all it's the journey not the destination that matters. 

An Age Restriction on Happiness............

This week saw me turn 29yrs and 4 months old. That leaves exactly 8 months til the big 3-0. Not that I am stressed or worried about it or anything. Much. Ok, well a little bit. As we travel through our lives we are often too busy to stop, look and reflect on our goals and dreams. So when a big birthday comes along it makes us stop, look around and take stock of what we have. It can also be a time where we look at what we haven’t achieved.

During our teens the world is our oyster and the options laid out ahead of us are endless. The idea we can have it all is freely exploited and there is an expectation that we will take it. Careers, marriage, children, university and travel are just a few of the options that we can choose from. Or why not attempt all of them, but in what order? Which do you focus on? How do you find time to fit them in? As a career advisor, with the best intentions I’m sure, tries to encourage our 16 year old self’s to pick a job for the rest of our lives it become a lots of pressure. The person we are at 16 is totally different to the person we are at 30 or 40 or 50. The best advice, which has stayed with me, was to just do what you enjoy doing. This is great but often there is so much! For each option we choose, to some extend we sacrifice another. If we opt for university and a high flying career, do we put relationships, marriage and children on a back burner? Or if we choose marriage and children are we putting our career on hold? Can we juggle child care with studying and career progression? The choices are endless, overwhelming and often, to an extent, out of our control. But what happens when we reach a milestone age and we haven’t achieved some of the things we wanted to do? As women there is a certain time pressure to having children, but the reality and responsibility of finding the right man means it doesn’t always happen when you want it to. And if you are lucky enough to find Mr Right, to have his babies and live happily ever after, how do you carry on in a job you love and have worked so hard for when you will want to spend all your time with your gorgeous little one? Can we really have our cake and eat it? At what point do we accept what we have, celebrate our successes on the way and just keep working towards our future dreams? And at what point do we cut ourselves some slack, accept that some things that we wanted aren’t going to happen (maybe because they are not meant to be) and reset the Sat Nav of live? There were lots of things that I wanted once upon a time; to be a size zero and six foot tall; to travel the world in a caravanette with my best friend; to hear that Brad had got back with Jen (Team Jen all the way!); be an air hostess and to have hair that was thick and glossy, like in a L’oreal advert. None of these things have come to pass, but I have survived. In fact I have made it my mission to thrive, safe in the knowledge that I will never be the girl with the perfect hair, I will not grow past the five ft 4 inches I have been for over 10 years and I am a bit to claustrophobic to be travelling anywhere in a caravanette! So as we approach mile stone ages, we can aim for three goals. One – To be able to look back at the past, proud of what has already achieved. Two – To accept that the achievements of our past have bought us to the present and that the present is the spring board to our future. Three – The future is ours to plan and make what we want of it. Age may dictate some things to us such as when we can have children or what job we do but no matter how old we are we are never too old to dream and set new goals.

The Pillsbury Dough Girl................

Picture the scene. Its 6pm, you have just got from work, it is cold, you are tired, work was manic, the kids/ the boy are ‘starving!’ and all you want to eat is something fattening, creamy and served with a vat of wine! Reality snaps you back to the empty fridge, the goose pimples on your arms and the cellulite on (my) chubby short thighs. Taking a deep breath, swiftly chopping some vegetables and think skinny thoughts, you continue the battle of the bulge, determined to win! This time it’s the annual run up to Christmas battle of the bulge and operation little black dress. With Christmas party invites pouring in, food offerings over flowing and vino being served by the gallon (hope that’s not just in my house!) its more tempting to put on your comfies, wrap up in a snuggie and let the mince pie onslaught begin than to start fighting the flab. But fight we do and with what energy! A quick poll around my office of 18 beautiful, intelligent and successful women showed we were all following some kind of diet, albeit some following a little less rigidly than others but never the less still following. From the Dukan diet to Slimming World and from the Cuppa Soup diet to the Heart diet, between us we know every point, calorie and carb count like the back of our hands. The 5 men in the office clearly have little hope and sanity working with us mad lot! As I gazed into yet another homemade fat free soup, wishing desperately that it was a vat of fat free apple pie and custard I began to wonder if there wasn’t another way to do this. Operation banish the belly needed to start with more than just a diet, the cold trickle of realisation hit, the only way was exercise.....

Being the kinda gal who is allergic to exercise, refuses to wear a look that inspires the statement ‘sponsored by Adidas’  and has no desire to be running on the spot for hours at a time whilst ‘Gym Barbie’ work out next to me, I choose carefully which sports I commit to. Firstly I am not great at team sports, having dyspraxia makes my hand to ball coordination rather rubbish, I hate to wear a uniform (why is it always a colour that is most unflattering to my skin tone?!) and should the lure of my duvet win one wet and windy day, the guilt of letting people down haunts me. Secondly I am no gym bunny. Being trapped in a room, with walls covered in mirrors, which makes it virtually impossible to not observe every wobbly bit as it wobbles and breathing in air smattered with other peoples sweat, is not my idea of a good time. All whilst paying an extortionate fee for the pleasure of this as well as being perved on by some steroid infused lump of muscle and being made to feel incompetent because your ‘running’, with mascara streaking and sports bra slipping  down your shoulder, whilst Gym Barbie sprints ahead, implants and eye liner  firmly intact. As I gazed down at my podgy little belly I needed motivation, something drastic. To motivate me off my ever increasing back side and shock me into action. Yep, I did what we all avoid doing at any cost ladies, I braved the full length mirror!! Obliviously this was done in the safety of my own bathroom, with the heating blasting out and the door firmly locked. Taking a very deep breath and daring a peek through my fingers, I examined the damage all the vino, cake and general sitting around has done to my body. As I peered critically at the expanse of pale, blotchy skin in the mirror, it was clear the only way to get the party body I wanted was through some intense toning and a LOT of St Tropez finest. A quick shop on line ensured the magic in a bottle was hot footing its way too me, next stop toning. After down loading an App to my iphone, laying the yoga mat on the floor and putting MTV on (for thinspiration and music) I started with a basic sit up. As a ripping pain shot through my chest it was quite apparent this wasn’t supposed to happen. Barely able to breathe or stand up I was in worse shape than I thought or I had done some serious damage. A quick check in with the Doctor confirmed it was the latter, I was the owner of a torn inter costal muscle. Her advice – to rest it.

As I sat on the sofa latter that night, resting my torn muscle, snuggled with a hot water bottle, sipping hot chocolate, I couldn’t help but wonder if this wasn’t a sign. Maybe I’m not designed to do such rigorous exercise, maybe a lesson could be learnt from this. Should we just be happy in our own bodies? Why are going to such lengths for perfection? For ourselves, for other people? When do we stop and just accept ourselves rolls of flab and all? As I carry on my journey of self acceptance I know I will be greatly helped along the way by some fake tan and very big knickers!!