Dawn Social Tourettes Shergold

I deleted this Blogger account and also my Facebook page and also my Twitter account the other day.

I read some people status's and links to their blogs and i think 'Oh god just shut up'. Then i had that paranoid heat wave sweep over me... 'what if people think that about me??'

Its that classic self doubt, am i good enough scenario, but also a valid point. What if I am wittering on, and people just roll their eyes and want me to shut up? But then I kinda thought as well, if people don't like what i write, then, basically, sod off!

I mean that in a loving way of course.. 'Sod off with love'

I have this, erm, endearing, lets call it, quality about me. Its something I cant control. Its something that my friends have a certain code for me, when we are out, to stop. My other half has a signal for me as well, for me to stop.

Its called

Social Tourettes.

Over all, I'm naturally chatty, open person. I tend to draw people into my space without trying. At bus stops i attract the smelly weirdo's with dogs that sniff and head butt my crotch (the dogs that is, the weirdos don't sniff and head butt my crotch. that's something else entirely). Old lady's talk to me in poundland, drunken alcoholics want to tell me their problems.
That's lovely! I must just have a nice friendliness about me.

But, when I'm nervous in a social situation, be it a wedding, my sons parent meeting at his new school, out in a pub with my mates or fella, something happens to my mouth. Its uncontrollable.

The last 2 that has happened recently are probably my worst. I think. I'm sure my bestie could and will highlight other situations. but the following 2 are ones where i put my face in my heads and shake my head with shame.

Situation 1.

Village barn dance

before the drinking and dancing

I love the village I live in, its very carefree, idyllic, very beautiful and friendly. We had a barn dance, that most of village turned out to, it was great fun, we drank we ate we danced. It was a gorgeous evening, groups of people were dotted around the field outside soaking up the last bit of sun, chatting, catching up. Rolling hills around us, a bomb fire to keep us warm. Lovely.

ahhh lovely

Weirdly, even tho i have lived in this village most of my life, i still don't know everybody. I see these people, we say good morning, but I've never actually had a conversation with them. As in any village or town, there is a unspoken divide. The riff raff in the council houses (me) and the posh people who live in mansions (absolutely not me)

So in my tipsy, giggly over danced state, i thought id make some new friends! Bugger the divide!

Enter Dawn Social Tourettes Shergold

I seek out my victim, and start chatting, all is going well, pleasantry's are exchanged, how long have you lived here? oh what a beautiful house you live in, whats that? you have 12 bedrooms and 90 bathrooms? oh how lovely! Yes i live in a council house.

Then silence. Then it happens.

I cant recall how it came about, but it involved the posh bloke doing some crouching action, something to do with loosening up his knees, this amused me. So what else is there to say?

'Urgh! it looks like you are tea bagging someone! #snort# #me laughing alot# do do do you tea bag your wife often? you must do with being able to do that crouching!'

Silence

I think my other half may have walked away at this point. And i think i may have excused myself to get another drink.

I haven't spoken to that posh bloke since.

Situation 2.

This is where my social tourettes is at its peak. The kids school. Its like something takes over my mouth, i have no control!!

At any school, the school run in the morning is busy, hectic, stressful. We all cram in the school, putting stuff on pegs, saying hello to other parents, and teachers, whilst doing that horrid licking your fingers and wiping marmite off you child's face to make them look like they have had a wash. Why do we do that? its disgusting??! Putting spit on your child's face to get them clean? I'm never doing that again!

I usually have my youngest asking me a million questions at the same time and i answer through gritted teeth and fake smile so, I'm not judged or worry someone will call social services, because what i actually want to scream is 'WILL YOU SHUT THE F##K UP!!!!!!!!' but obviously I cant. But i am saying it in my head. ALOT.

To get out of the school, it has like a bottle neck so it gets congested and you have to be polite and wait for people to come into the school before you try and get out. Stamping on other parents and children is frowned upon unfortunately.

Its in this very busy bottle neck queueing system, that 1 of the lovely mums says to me in a concerned voice

'Hey love, how are you? are you okay?'

To which i reply

'Im fine darlin, how come? why are you asking me like I've got AIDS?'

What the actual fuck?

Seriously, what is wrong with me? Where the hell did that awfulness even come from???

Luckily she knows me well enough and laughed and later told me that was the best social tourettes phrase i have said yet.

I know where i get it from. I know its in my blood. My mother has it to.

Only the other day walking through a local town called Wilton, she had a moment of unstoppable social tourettes and the more she tried to get herself out of it, the more awful bollocks came out her mouth!

It went something like this..

2 ladies walking in front of us eating a pasty. 1 of the ladies starts to choke. So my mum says 'you are meant to chew!'
the lady replied over her shoulder with some comment about that she wasn't meant to be eating a pasty as she is putting on weight and that's why she is choking on it.
#polite laughter#
mum says
'but you have a lovely bum, i wouldn't mind a bum like that'
#nervous laughter from the ladies in front#
mum says
'just to let you know I'm not a lesbian'
#more nervous laughter#
'i was just admiring your arse'
#women walk quicker and side swipe into a shop#



But there is something about me that I enjoy doing on purpose, amongst people i am comfortable with, and that's making people cringe. I'm not sure why. I take any conversation to another level, saying the things only people think briefly and wouldn't dream of saying. My fave subjects are usually to do with toilet habits, boobs, vag's, willy's, anything that makes people wish i would stop. That i can control.

Social Tourettes, is something else!

I have to go to Sports Day later. I have been asked to sell raffle tickets. that's fine, i have no problems helping out. The only thing I'm nervous about is what will come out my mouth.

Wish me (and everyone else) luck!

10 Alternative reasons to lose weight....

If you are a hardcore dieter like my very self, then you will know off by heart the risks of being over weight. Heart disease, stroke, diabetes, etc etc. these are all very serious matters. BUT if like me, you have read these facts over and over again, they kinda mean nothing to you and don't lead to any sort of motivation about losing the extra lard.

So, I've made up a little list that are real for me that is more motivating than, erm, death?

1.
Now that I have lost a bit of chub, i like that now, the top of my thighs are no longer a fire risk to my    vagina or indeed when walking down the street, people have stopped looking round confused as the cheap nylon trousers rub together make it sound like two knights are battling it out in a sword fight.



2.
When I go for a bike ride, I no longer have that paranoid worry that it looks like I'm just sat on a pole, where the seat is, as the size of my ample ass has literally flapped over all sides of the seat. it kinda reminds me of freshly rolled pasta, draping over a rolling pin

Sexy huh. Doesn't stop me having saddle ass tho, no matter how cushiony the seat is.











3.
Ahh my favourite, public toilets.
I have issues with anything kinda germy. So public toilets are pretty horrid for me, especially ones underneath car parks or in petrol stations.
Us ladies have an extra special guest in the toilet with us, and that is the sanitary towel box.
Sometimes, if you are really lucky, it wouldn't have been emptied for a few days and is over filling with other ladies erm, monthly's.
This box is usually situated right next to the toilet.
If you are on the larger side, and you need the toilet, its nearly impossible for your ass not to touch this sanitary towel box, level with the opening of where you put your used towels.
BLEUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'm writing this with a wince on my face. Lose weight ladies!!!! Even if its just for this reason!! Do it for the sake of your skin not touching the box!!!!

4.
We all have them, some blokes have a version. I have them and i HATE them. but i still wear them on nights out.
Suck em in nickers/body suits/shorts/tops.
When I get ready for a night out, I'm usually quite flustered as I'm still mum, as I'm slapping makeup and straightening hair. Trying to get kids fed, into bed, praying they don't start randomly throwing up so you can still go out.
I get hot, i get blimmin cranky, face and hair are done, now i have to get dressed.
Trying to squeeze my lard into different positions and areas on my body with the help of very tight suck em in shorts. Trying to pull the shorts up as the non slip bit on the leg drags on your skin, you do that viscous hip wriggle thing from side to side to get yourself in them. They are on. I'm walking like I've shit myself but I'm in and I'm a size smaller. Then i get dressed and I'm sweating so much because i have this extra layer of tight, unnatural fitting thing on me. Urgh.
I chose not to wear these hateful things anymore. I don't feel i need to :)

5.
My wardrobe used to consist of 1 maybe 2 colours.
Black and when I'm feeling daring, maybe very dark navy blue.
I felt like i was taking part in a Queen Victoria mourning process, because i once heard somewhere a million years ago that black is slimming. I agree in some aspects, but, jeez!
When you feel good, you start adding a bit of colour here and there, maybe with a bright(er) necklace or something. I cant wait to be a bit more confident, so i can fully come out of fat mourning and look bright and fresh all the time!

6.
4 boobs and bad pants
I have a confession to make. I don't actually know my bra size. Out of stubbornness and denial throughout my dieting years, i have continued to buy bras in the same size....
The results are this... When I'm losing weight my boobs look like they are swimming in to sacks of cloth, when Ive put on weight, i have 4 boobs, where they spill out everywhere and not in a sexy way.
I still wont get my boobs measured because I'm lazy and i don't want a strange lady prodding about me jugs.
BUT i will when I've lost a bit more weight. i want to have my top draw filled with beautiful bras and knickers, though i have got better on the knickers part, i used to buy those multi pack ones from the supermarket and wouldn't buy more until the bit of material was literally hanging from the strained bit of elastic. I now have some nice pretty shorts that i got from M&S.
Don't have the same attitude as me! Bras are expensive! But if you have 4 boobs, go and get a bigger bra!

7.
Back boobs make me cry.
Mine are going down now, but when i was lumpier, it would ruin a whole outfit and for some stupid reason, as i would walk down the street, feeling very self conscience about me bod, i would look at my reflection in car windows????! WHY????? It really was a case of 'should i buy a support bra for my back?'
When i first started getting fit, i could feel the sweat and my back boobs rubbing. Its bloody awful, but the only way to avoid this, is to lose weight.

8.
Getting out of a car, for me, is one of those challenges, especially if they have low seats. you know its time to do something when you need both hands hooked over the car door or roof to heave yourself out, making that grunting noise that your nan used to make when getting out a chair.

9.
I like to paint my toe nails. I think feet, in general, are ugly and freaky. So i pretty mine up a bit. When i was bigger, id have to heave my leg up onto a table, hold my breath, move my gut out the way and stretch to my toes. Then i have to do the same with the other foot. I remember watching Friends and the character Rachel was in the sitting room, sat on her bum leaning towards her toes to paint them with that toe separator thingy. i was really envious of her being able to do this. I'm not quite at that stage yet, but i don't need to shift my gut to 1 side anymore and i cant wait to get there! I will even take a picture of me painting my toenails in the Rachel position, then i know i have made it!

10.
Getting jiggy. Monthly bonk....Lights off please, don't touch there, urgh don't look, can you hurry up, I'm keeping this tshirt on.
Ahhh fat sexy talk.
When you are over weight, your mojo goes. The thought of mustering up any sexiness is as hard as someone telling you to go for a 6mile run. God, do i have to? pft.
You lose all the closeness with your partner and they feel rejected so you do it to keep them happy. Quite sad really. I feel for Steve, i must have made him feel like pants. Being so obsessed and unhappy with your body really does effect everyone. Every compliment he gave me i would dismiss and call him a liar.
When you start moving and shrinking, things come back to life that you thought were dead and gone, and its really great!

I hope you like my list of motivational things, you can probably even relate to them! Sorry if i have made you feel ill on any of it tho....

xxx

Im gonna look like a village hick

I cant describe this week. I can't even remember it to well, but this is what i can remember.

On Monday, because my son came down with a really bad case of chicken pox (or as he calls it chicken pops). Me and my daughter had to go to the dentist, so my mum looked after my boy Billy and my eldest went to school.

Jess had her tooth pulled out (she's my hero, she was very brave and we had fun trying to get her to say words with half her mouth being asleep from anesthetic) and i had 2 fillings.

Oh the pain. I was so tired as id been up half the night feeding Billy medicine to bring his temperature down.

Had another crappy night with Billy on the Monday and i woke up with chronic tooth ache with a different tooth, so off i go to the dentists AGAIN on the Tuesday, A temporary filling was put on the tooth.

Crappy nights sleep Tuesday, woke up with so much pain i thought i might actually die, thought id be a hero and ride it out.

 I rang the dentist, begging them to see me. they were fab and saw me at 10am and pulled the bugger out.

Wednesday, woke up with the most awful pain in the tooth i originally had a filling in on Monday.

Now, this is getting silly. I couldn't ring my dentist again as I thought they might think i was taking the piss some how, so i really did try and ride this one out...

Friday, my dad took me to A&E (after speaking to people at 111) because i felt i was DYING. Not much they could do really. I was a tad concerned that i had been popping the ol pain killers like some greedy addict.

So they gave me some super dooper pain killers and sent me home with an out of hours emergency dentist number, which i rang and they told me to ring 111. sigh.

At about 5am saturday morn, i rang 111 again, through sheer desperation and begged, cried, snotted down the phone, i just wanted some help with my bloody tooth!

They finally put me through to the out of hours dentist and i had an appointment made for me at.... 2.30pm. Yes, 2ooth 3urty for that day.

Delighted.

So, with face in hand i went to the dentist, who was very nice and listened to some jazz type music, which wasn't so nice.

Turns out that the filling that was put in on Monday was pressed against my nerve and my body was trying to reject said filling, so in a round about way, my filling and nerve were doing some sort of ping pong action. OUCH!

He also told me that id either have to have a root canal or for the tooth to be removed.

I wouldn't mind the tooth removal bit so much, but this tooth is next to the fang tooth. So if i had the tooth removed, I would look like i should go on the Jeremy Kyle show, in an ill fitting vest top shouting so many swear words, that nobody can follow the story for all the beeps.

I am hoping, no, not hoping, PRAYING, to the being that i only tend to pray to when i want something to go my way, that a root canal will solve the problem.

Out of this whole drama of tooth, ill children, lack of sleep and fogginess from all the pain killers, something has stuck in my head the most, and it was a real light bulb moment....

well, i say light bulb, maybe more of a penny dropping.

When i was waiting at 2.30 for my hurty tooth to be fixed, i was reading the posters in the waiting room. I swear, they were aimed at me. This notice board with different bits of information was like pointing at me and saying 'Oi, Shergold, read this, this is directed at you'

In a round about way, it was all different facts about people with a bad diet have the worse problems with their teeth.

I know this is very simple and you are probably thinking 'duh, well that makes sense', but hand on heart, i have never linked the 2 together.

Of course its why i have terrible teeth!

Oh my lordy, all this pain, because I have problems with food? I always expected myself to be told i have diabetes or high blood pressure or something like that, but not teeth?

Its left me feeling a bit ashamed, a bit shocked, a bit, dunno, angry with myself i guess? I hear about people suffering with bulimia having terrible teeth because of all the stomach acid etc, but never associated my eating disorder with my teeth. But of course its connected, i don't have the recommended amount when it comes to chocolate bars and sweets. I might have the recommended amount you are supposed to have in a month during 1 sitting, but not as a small treat in 1 day!

Its made me question, what the hell else is going on inside my body, stuff i cant see!

Its made me panic a wee bit.

I'm not gonna lie, even after having my teeth pulled out etc, i still tried to have a binge. But i found it a struggle as my mouth was numb and i was kinda dribbly and it kinda bloody well feckin hurt.

Its not worth it. This behavior is silly, outrageous! Who the hell does that!

Erm, well, I do.

I have an illness, but i'm at a stage where, i'm getting a bit titsed off with it. I'm not sure if this is part of the process, but i'm starting to see BED as an object outside my body, but its still attached to me. like a wart.

That is what my BED is, a frikkin wart.

At the minute I still have pain in my mouth. A bit of tooth is trying to work its way out through my gum, its like a constant pulsating reminder, that it doesn't have to be this way!

Does anyone know if BED is forever? Is it in me forever and i have to just manage it, or is it something i can be rid of forever?

Would be grateful to hear from anyone suffering with it or someone who has recovered from it!

love xxx

Urgh, hangover

Today I am hungover. Not just a little bit hungover, but as I type this, i have a twitch in my eyelid that is very irritating and ive managed to eat a bacon sarnie, a family sized bag of crisps, 3 large Munchie cookies and ive just opened and eating (excuse the crumbs) a packet of chocolate and caramel digestives. I intend to eat them all. Today is going to be a binge/hangover day.

I am so deep into my hungover paranoid brain state, that nothing that anyone will say would stop me from eating huge quantities today. I am committed to the binge.

Last night, me and my lovely fella went down our local to watch a rock band called 'Drop The Fish'. My dad is the cool guitarists, that everyone adores. (when i say dad, i don't mean mental boy i mean my stepdad).

I drank LOADS and so did Steve and so did everyone else down the pub, a good time was had, we danced, we laughed, we smoked to much.

But this morning, i feel such despair and grief about something that I cant put my finger on.

This is what alcohol does to me. Its a depressant, which isn't good for someone like me! I know this will effect me until Wednesday. Today is the worst day and i will get progressively better as the days go on.

I am also perfectly aware, that it is self inflicted. I love being drunk, i have the best time, but the hangovers are just a big pile of dog turd. But it doesn't stop me. it wont ever stop me! Its not often we go out, so i'm not gonna beat myself up to much about it.... well, not much anyway,.... well, we will just have to see.

I vowed i wouldn't binge this week and i feel like ive failed as ive actually had a few mini binges and today is gonna be the big one.

A mixture of spilling my guts about my past caused me to have bad dreams, dark thoughts, constant poking at myself about what a failure i am. I knew it would happen and i prepared myself for it. You cant tell people stories about your past without it having some kind of effect on your state of mind. But i know i wont have to tell my story to anyone ever again so I wont have to fell those feeling again, which i'm kinda excited about even in my fragile state today. It wasn't the best choice to get drunk this week. But i am human, which means i'm a bit stupid.

I know its a cliche, but tomorrow is Monday. i love Mondays, its like a clean slate. I have a plan of action from tomorrow and i'm looking forward to it.

I've discovered not writing down what i'm gonna eat really effects my day. i feel like i'm on free fall. So as tedious as it is to write everything down, its a necessary tool i have to use daily.

I have also bought myself a pedometer. I have constant guilt about not getting round to exercise especially if i had planned to do some, so, my aim everyday is to walk 10,000 steps which is the equivalent to 5 miles. If i am able to do a workout as well then that's a bonus!

I've had a terrible week of crap sleeps, a mixture of a rotten tooth ache, my son coming down with chicken pox and bad dreams makes me crave all the bad stuff and it is a genuine battle in my head.

I'm going to make an effort to relax and chill out as i am always on the go. if i have a crap nights sleep, i don't rest at all during the day to try and make up for some of the lack of sleep. i go into stupid sorting over drive. 'oh i must sort out the cupboard full of complicated bits of screws, hairbands, filter tips and foreign coins today, that should ease my busy brain!'.

So i am going to rest damn it, nurture and comfort my brain with extra sleep, even if its at 1pm in the afternoon and the sink is full of dishes. I'm gonna sleep. Not today tho as my boy has chicken pox and is really ill :(

Tomorrow involves a trip to the dentist. I'm not over joyed about this, but its gotta be done. I will plan my meals and keep my feelings in check as i certainly don't want to slip back into old daily habits and become a massive lard arse again.

Apologies for the down and out blog today, but its kinda made me feel better.

Im off to eat and maybe have a good sob.

Laters x

Low self esteem is all fart and no poo

This blog will be my longest and may shock a few of you that know me and may cause you to do that awkward 'how do i talk to Dawn now' kinda thing.

I figured, I need to get it out there, so others reading this going through a similar experience can at least acknowledge that they aren't alone and maybe (hopefully) they can take the steps that are needed and know that they deserve a better life.

I've been thinking about this alot over the past couple of days and it has made me want to eat. Not nibble like a lady, but literally face plant a cake.

When i was a girl, not sure of the exact age but i think it was around 4/5, my mum made friends with a couple of women. They also had kids, so it was a regular thing that mum went round to her mates house for a coffee whilst the kids went off and played.

We were often sent upstairs to play. I remember the stairs were so so dark and i hated it in that house.

I hated it in that house because the older brother was often there. This older brother was a pervert and sexually abused me, my friend and his sister and alot of other kids he would babysit for.

He would either make us line up outside his bedroom or he would shove 2 or 3 of us in a cupboard under his bed and chose his favourite. I'm very claustrophobic as an adult because of this and its also why i still have panic attacks at the dentists because i feel so claustrophobic when they are in my face.

I cant remember how long the abuse went on for. I (thankfully) only have a few flash back memories. 1 of them is when he tried to rape me, but obviously i was so small he couldn't manage it. I remember the pain and after he realised that that wasn't possible i was allowed to chose as to what he could do to me.

I remember his sister having 1 of those old school sweet shop things. It had real sweets in it which i thought was amazing as i wasn't allowed such thing at home!

After a while, my little girl body was starting to give off a terrible smell because of all the interference. Mum would wash me all the time, i cried alot, to scared to speak of anything because i was told that if i said anything to anyone, my family would die and my mum would get punched in the face.

I'm not sure how it came about, but i remember mum drying my hair after a bath and she asked me lots of questions. Things like, has anyone touched you. General probing to get me to talk to her.

So i told her.

The next memory is me in a police safe house type thing being interviewed. I remember that the tape recorder wasn't working and i remember being really embarrassed because i had to say the word 'willy'.

I also remember me having to see a doctor for an examination. He was a really nice doctor but i remember screaming and crying as he did the examination.

I had a lot of counselling, which helped at the time. The abuser was taken to court, but he was let off and was able to walk free.

I learnt as an adult he has children of his own now. I called social services for them to check on the children, but I've never found out the outcome.

Out of this horrific part of my life, the only thing that has ever made me truly sad, is the effect it had on my mum.

me and mum not long after i had told her

She cannot get over the guilt of the fact she was downstairs having a chat with her mates, whilst upstairs her daughter was being abused. AND to add insult, the pervert was let off.

Ive never blamed mum or anything like that, and i still to this day still think it was just an awful thing that happened. But i dont dwell on it.

Because of what happened, my mum became very over protective, which as an adult with my own children, i totally get. But as a girl who was trying to grow up and trying to go to parties, this caused           a MASSIVE problem! I was a complete pain in the ass. I drank alot, i snuck out the house, i ran away, i slept around. I had absolutely no self worth.

me and mum when i was a bit older with my bear called Jess

My poor mum!

In my head, i was disgusting and often thought about suicide. I always compared myself to my gorgeous friends. I was always the girl stood to one side looking bored as her mates were snogging their boyfriends.

It made me feel awful that i wasn't special enough to be snogged like that and for a boy to squeeze my boobs! Oh the pain in my heart because my boobs weren't being pawed at!

I had 1 friend in particular, who i was so jealous of that it caused me huge issues right into my early twenties. She was the one with a gorgeous body, always had a fella, was funny, smelt nice, looked nice, all them lovely things. But instead of being proud to have one of my best mates like that. it killed me inside. I desperately wanted to be like her.

Don't get me wrong, i wasn't horrible to her or anything. To this day she doesn't know about it (though she might now) it was all private thoughts in my head that caused me real damage.

As i grew older, the men i went for were all the same. Twats basically. I had a warped idea of how a man should be and how i should be treated. Because i felt like shit inside, i went out with guys who treated me like shit.

One night i was out drinking and dancing, there was this guy who danced next to me. i recognised him from school. His name was Mike.

We started chatting and all that jazz and i met up with him the next day. He was shy and wouldn't look me in the eye when he talked to me, but he was making a really big effort to chat to me. i liked him.

From that day we rarely spent a day apart.

Anyone who knows me will tell you that, I'm not the kinda girl you can boss around, tell me what to do, who i can see, who i cant see.

So how I let that maggot, slowly and gradually take over my life completely, down to the very point where i had to ask his permission to buy a magazine, and ask him what I'm allowed to wear, i will never know.

He would lie to me about my friends, making out that they said something bad about me, like i was fat, making me paranoid and eat. He was a feeder, he would forever buy me sweets, takeaways. as long as i was fat, no one would want me.

He was always aggressive, often violent towards me. One time i was being silly and making it look like i had no boobs. I thought it was hilarious, he didn't. So he punched me. hard in the chest.

I was often shoved into things, the amount of holes in walls and doors was ridiculous.

I was scared of him, my friends and family were nervous of him. We couldn't go to any sort of social event because he would get drunk and become violent or cause a drama

He would do sexual things to me in my sleep. I would often wake up to a sticky back. BLEUGH!!!

So what did i do? I married him of course!

On my wedding day, my mum begged me not to marry him. So like the grown up non stubborn person that i was, i didn't take her advice and of course still married him!

I hated my wedding day. Mike cried like a big blubby child all day. I didn't. i managed to squeeze a tear for my 1st dance, mainly because i knew i should be emotional and happy and all that and i didn't want anyone to question anything. I felt like i was all dressed up for someone else's party the whole time. i was also pregnant with my 1st child. and for some reason i thought i would be all individual and wear a red wedding dress that my aunt made, it was a lovely dress, but not for a wedding. So not only did i hate my wedding day, i looked like a big fat tomato.

So i had my 1st child. Max. Mike wanted to call him Maximus, but i told him we couldn't call him that because in the film 'life of Brian' there was a character called Maximus biggus dickus. snigger.

Also we named my 1st child Max without actually remembering that my brother called my mental father 'mad max'. sigh.

I had awful post natal depression, i didn't bond with max at all. I also didn't leave the house for 4 months through fear of someone snatching max. Mike was about as supportive as a violent tosser. Oh wait...
His attitude was to shout at me to just 'cheer the fuck up, will you!'

So I ate and ate and ate and he fed me as well.

And i became MASSIVE.

As time went on, Mike was still violent and mentally screwing with my head the whole time. Max went to pre-school and it was picked up that there was something not quite right with Max. we now know that Max has autism, but at the time Mike wouldn't allow anyone to help him because apparently there was nothing wrong with his boy!

It wasn't until i saw some photos of me at Christmas that i saw just how huge i was i was a size 22. 16 and a half stone. eek.

My health was also suffering. I had developed a food allergy that led to an anaphylactic shock which meant i was in hospital. I had to get my mum 8 miles away to take me to hospital because mike refused.

So i dieted, and exercised obsessively. Mike hated it, he would tut and huff trying to interrupt me as i did my exercise dvds.

Then he was diagnosed with skin cancer. it was cut out and for some reason we thought it would be a great thing to have another child!

So along came my beautiful Jessica.

I hated it when Mike touched me. He made my skin crawl, i would actually heave sometimes as he forced himself on me. He would drive round to get the kids asleep and try and have sex with me in a deserted carpark,with the kids in the car!

If you are in a relationship and your partner makes your skin crawl. WAKE UP! there is a problem!

When Jess was 5 months old, i was allowed out for a girly night with my mates. I had lost alot of weight and was looking great. I also met a man.

He was very charming, and worked on the market. All gob and charm and just what i needed.

He asked me to visit him on the market the next Tuesday, so me and my neighbour got on the bus with our kids and went into town.

He was very complimentary and he made me feel good. I said my goodbyes and left. I asked my mate to go and get his number for me, and that there is when i knew my marriage was over.

I had to plan my escape. So over the week or so, i would steal money from mikes wallet as i wasn't allowed my own money. and i put it in a secret sleeve part in a book my mum gave me.

I also went to the police station and told them that i was leaving my husband and i was gonna get hurt because of how violent he was.

So they put a flag up next to my name and i gave them the date i was going to tell him, and they had it set up so that the police would arrive in minuets.

I told him, and i got hurt.

Police were called and got him out the house.

From then on for the next 6 months, i went through hell, he broke in, tried to strangle me, he stalked me, hid up on the neighbours roof to spy on me. tried to ram me off the road, with kids in the car.

To make things worse, the guy i was seeing from the market, was also separated from his wife. So who did mike hook up with? You got it, my boyfriends wife. Gross.

I was mortified that it was all turning into some kind of chavvy jeremy kyle kinda story.

Mike and his new girlfriend were a joint force. they even attacked me in mothercare! I know its childish, but it helps sometimes, but i like to call her 'the beast' or 'the unit'. She is as tall as she is wide and towers over Mike.

Me and my market boyfriend moved into together and it was a frikkin train crash. He was of course my 'out' of my marriage.

So we split up and Mike and the unit got married and had some kids. I don't allow my kids to be part of his life, he is happy with that. Even in the divorce papers it stated he didn't want to see them.

You would think that would be the end of Mike. But he still pops his ugly angry face up sometimes. A few months ago he beat up his own mother. Unbelievable.

So I was single, fragile and hating men.

On one night out with my mate, I met Steve. he was funny and kind and i liked him alot. So we went out and i kinda got pregnant really quickly!

So me and Steve decided we didn't like each other and would try and winde each other up at any opportunity.

I had my 3rd child Billy. Even though me and Steve still didn't like each other, he was a brilliant dad, and even through us not liking each other, i alwaysed maintained that he was a brilliant dad.

As time went on and i went through some right wanker boyfriends, something shifted between me and Steve. And actually we really liked each other.

So we thought we would give it another go. and we haven't looked back.

Steve is my everything. he to is my hero. he puts up with me, he has taken max and Jess on as his own, he is patient and loving and very very funny. I adore him. and he loves me with all my baggage. he is my constant and one day when we have enough money, we will get married and i know that it will be for keeps. I love my life and i deserve the life i have, which is a happy content one. I love my children and i love my man. Go me!

I haven't told this story for sympathy. I am a survivor not a victim. If you are going through any mental and or physical abuse, you have the power to get out and make a better life for yourself.

If i tell people this story, i know longer own it, its gone. I'm going through my own healing process and I'm giving this crap back to the universe, because i don't need it in me anymore.

I know why my self esteem was so low. I know why i got so fat.

9 times out of 10 a fat person is fat because they are trying to fill a unfillable unresolved void. filling it with food takes the pain away, just for a little bit.

I wanted to binge today, i was really really close. but i didn't. I told this story and I'm still not going to binge, because i am no longer a victim. and neither should you be. I wont ever be bullied again by anyone. mike and his unit dont scare me anymore, they never will again, because i'm better than that.

As a quick note, don't go all weird on me because i spilled my guts. I will still fart on your leg and find myself highly amusing xx

Me and my man :)

Do you ever...

Do you ever, go through old photos of yourself and want to climb in the picture and slap your face a bit and give yourself a bloody good bollocking? I do!

Just going through some pictures earlier, i got really cross with myself as i can remember how i was feeling as each picture was taken. What a bloody waste of time and energy! Some of the pictures are of me as a kid and i wanted to reach in and give myself a big cuddle.

On the plus side, its reminded me of what i look like at my ideal weight, and is a good motivator!

Ive put the pictures on here, mainly for selfish reasons, so i can look at them when I'm lacking motivation, but also to show you how a poorly depressed head can make you see something different.....

This is me, my mum and my brother. I hated the seaside. Its was Brian who took the pic (i expect in his speedos. bleugh) Look at how gorgeous my mum is, but she didn't feel it.

This is me and my best mate. She is still my best mate and i love her deeply. This is the very kitchen where i stole crisps from. I was (and still am) always the joker. You have no idea how deeply unhappy i was at this age

I felt very ugly at this age and very fat, i was about 11 here. i cried alot and had scary thoughts

My lovely beautiful mum :)

Me and my lovely step dad ( i call him Pops) xxxx

Now, this is a picture where i want to reach in and wallop my very face. I remember very clearly, when this picture was taken, i thought i was the fattest pig ever to have walked the earth, i felt i was a huge let down and how could anyone want to be seen with such a lard arse. Even when i saw this picture, i thought that my tummy was massive. Pft.

This beautiful picture of me and my best mate was taken at a adult weekend in Butlins. I look amazing, believe it or not, I was probably at the peak of my breakdown. I drank alot that weekend, OCD went into overdrive, I was having panic attacks, paranoia, and i thought i was HUGE. i ate the world and then would do excessive exercise. What a crappy place in my head.

I was really ill at this stage, the kids were the only thing that kept me alive. I was incredibly stressed as i was going through a horrible divorce from my horribly violent ex husband. I was in constant fear and of course fat and ugly. SLAP SLAP ( me slapping my face)

I was in a better place here, this is a good motivating picture for me. I remember on the journey to meet my little nephew (who I'm holding) I asked my mum if i was looking really fat.

Now i love this picture, my other half doesn't as he thinks he looks like a tramp. This was the night i met my lovely fella, I'm happy and enjoying myself and my life started changing for the better :)

I aim to have the body of the girl in the white top holding her nephew. I'm excited actually, its going to take a while, but I'm in no rush (that's a lie, i actually want it right now) I know if i do this properly, i can do it. if i start pissing about with 10 other different diets or going back to that horrible place in my head, i will never get there. but I ain't gonna do that am I! This blog is liberating, its like i have been a tightly wound coil and suddenly I'm letting it allll go, untangling myself, like having a really lovely stretch.

Super xx

Carob? Instead of chocolate? Are you frikkin kidding me?

When my mum met my natural father, he was a bouncer, on a door, at a nightclub. His name was Brian.

Think back to early 80's, this is the image i have of Brian in my head when my mum met him, we are talking very neat short blonde hair, stone wash jeans, white t-shirt tucked in, a blazer jacket, white socks and black shoes. From what i understand, he was a very handsome man, looked after himself, was very vain, had a kinda body builder physique.

So of course my mum fancied him! It helped that she was (and still is, i might add) incredibly foxy.

My mum had my brother when she was 16 (apparently you cant get pregnant if you do it standing up), so she was a single parent when she met Brian and absolutely adored him, i mean was totally in love with him, he took my brother on as his own, even adopted him.

Lovely you may think.

But, Brian wasn't a normal bloke. He was OBSESSED with body image, himself, what he looked like in every angle in every mirror. He used to wash the car by the road in SPEEDOS for gods sake! Walked around town in speedos and flip flops. Urgh im dying inside with the memories!!

My mum was a size 8-10 when she met Brian, but apparently that was to fat. There is a massive hill on an estate that they used to live on and he would make her run in black plastic bin bags up that hill in summer to burn extra calories. Bless my mum, she would do anything to please him, she was young and i can guarantee that if someone tried to force her to do that now she would tell them to kindly 'F' Off and for them to go and die somewhere.

Brian was a very fat and unhappy kid, so he had his own issues and demons. I find that it can go either way if you don't deal or have any sort of love and support with those fat kid issues, you either go really fat, or you go the other way and become very obsessed about maintaining a certain body type.

He became very obsessed with himself.

When i came along, i was a hungry baby. This made Brian panic that i was gonna be a fat kid, so he would only let mum feed me a certain amount. Mum had terrible post natal depression and loving that bloke and trusting everything he said, when he was in the room, would do as he says. So i cried ALOT, infact i screamed allllll the time, so much so that i had to be hospitalised and left to scream it out for 3 days in a room whilst my mum was distraught in another room. My heart breaks thinking about it. I even feel guilty that my screams would break someone like that! I know it wasn't my fault that i was a screamy baby, but for a long time i thought i was the reason they eventually split up.

As time went on, Brian eventually had it down to a fine art as to what and how much we could eat as people. We were NOT to be a fat family. in the mean time he was bonking anything that moved, so that caused my mum to go further into depression. All this control and obsession eventually led my mum to become bulimic. I grew up with eating = guilt.

Not healthy.

Whilst my friends were chomping on biscuits and crisps, i was only allowed a frikkin Carob bar. Do you know what that crap tastes like? It doesn't taste like chocolate, that's for sure. I imagine that if i was forced to eat an actual lump of crap, it would be carob. Carob, is actually crap wrapped up and sold in health food shops.

After a while my mum had enough and kicked him out, me and my brother were sat at the top of the stairs, watching them argue and scream at each other, then mum pushed Brian out the door and slammed the door closed. My brother stood up walked into his bedroom and closed the door.

I still get chocked up at this memory.

Despite what my dad was i still loved him, he was my dad! I loved how he smelt, he did the biggest farts, they didn't smell that great. I loved his laugh, it was a proper head back chuckle.

So Brian met someone else, they were dark times for me, i wasn't liked by the person he was with and it was made very obvious.

Every weekend or whatever weekend Brian would bother to pick me up, he would tell me i was putting on weight, getting fat. I was 8!!!! 8!!!!! I look back at photos of me when i was 8, i wasn't fat, i was very unhappy, but i wasn't fat and it makes me sad. I should have been enjoying a childhood, being carefree, not having a complex about being fat when i WASN'T!!!!

So there we have a start of a new generation being obsessed about being fat.

My mum was still having her warped eating issues and would often invite me to join her on a new diet. I was very angry with my mum for a long time as an adult about this. At school, i didn't take biscuits and have those wonderful lunches that kids had. I was that annoying kid who always-ed asked 'can i have a bit' 'can you lend me 20p so i can go and get some sweets from the canteen' 'Are you gonna eat that?'.

I remember my 1st ever binge. I was round my best mates house, and in the corner of the kitchen, they had piles and piles of crisps. They were French Fries and other delish things.

I woke up early one morning after a sleep over and i snuck downstairs, into their kitchen, and i opened a packet of crisps and stuffed them in my mouth really quickly before anyone caught me, then i had another and another. I don't remember how many i had, but i remember their dog watching me and my bottom lip was a bluey colour from all the salt, but i felt amazing, then i felt awful, i knew what i had done was wrong and i had to try and hide all the empty crisp packets, so i stuffed them in my sleepover bag and then i was panicking because mum might find them. I put them in a neighbours bin in the end.

By this time, mum had met an amazing man. He is my step dad and is my big hero. i adore him, he came with 3 kids. 3 smelly boys. So it was me my brother and 3 step brothers. 4 boys against 1 girl. So i had a new challenge at meal times. Mum would lay out plates of food for us and basically if you didn't eat your quick, you wouldn't get to eat as one of the boys would have it, or stick their grubby fingers in it to annoy you. I still eat very fast today, the thought of slowly chewing food drives me crazy! I hate being hungry, why tease the stomach like that!!

When I was about 12, Brian had split from the woman who hated me and was living on his own. It was becoming more and more obvious that he wasn't quite right in the head.

He was talking to some spirits, and he was also jimmy Hendrix and i think at one time he was possibly God.

He was a masseuse, and did all that Reiki stuff. Basically he was weird and freaky.

On 1 particular visit to his house, he took me up to his massage room and told me to lie down on the bed. he locked the door. I was very scared, but i figured, he was my dad, he wouldn't hurt me.

He explained that he was going to cure me of chocolate and also replace my spine with a golden bone so i wouldn't ever have any back problems.

Now i was nervous

I put my head through that hole bit in the bed and he started the reiki stuff, clearing all the bad energy from my body. Then it was time for my 'operation'.

This is a true story by the way. I'm not making this shit up.

Anyway, He was talking to the spirits, like he was a real surgeon. 'Scalpel', 'Knife'. He wasn't using these for real, he was just imagining it. then he said 'Bone' and then 'needle'.

So i had a 'golden bone' I have to say the operation went well, i felt no pain at all!

I was seriously freaked out and asked him to take me home. He was to cure me of chocolate 1st tho. So he did some mumbo jumbo crap and cured me of chocolate.

I had 50p in my pocket and on the drive home i asked him to shop at the shop. I promptly bought myself a Lion Bar got in the car and ate it infront of him. he wasn't amused, but then asked me for a bit!

I didn't tell my mum straight away, i had to try and figure out what had just happened in my head.

So i went round my best mates house. My other bestie was there as well, i told them the whole story, and after alot of comfort and making me see that, that wasn't normal, they told me to go home and tell my mum.

So I did.

She was lovely, very supportive and i imagine totally freaked out and horrified about the situation.

If Brian wanted to see me, he was to come to the house when mum and my step dad were there.

This was when he came round and showed my step dad that he was Jimi Hendrix.

In my family, we deal with stuff with humour. Its our way. I call Brian 'Mental Boy' and my brother calls him 'Mad Max'

After Brian had left and proving he was indeed Jimi Hendrix, we fell about laughing. Then i think i cried.

Things got weirder after that. Brian was practising his powers on real trusting customers, that came to his house. I'm not sure what happened, but i'm sure he tried to rape a woman in order to get the devil out of her.

The woman he did this to sold her story to Take a Break. I remember reading it and showing my friends at school.

He was a wanted man. He went on the run.

I remember my mum sitting me down in the morning and explaining everything to me, about how the police were after him etc. i was really upset and i had the day off school.

That day, we got a phone call from down our local pub. Brian was down there, praying over a glass of water and he had just left to come and find me.

I can safely say me and mum were shitting our pants. From my brothers room you can see into a carpark that i normally walk down when i get off the school bus. There is a large hedge in this carpark that i walk past. Me and mum were watching Brian waiting for me behind this bush. Mum went to ring for help. When he saw that i wasn't on the bus he walked off down the path that led to my house.

Mum told me to stay in the house and she was gonna go out and tell him to go away.

So there i was in the house, shitting my pants, thoughts going through my head of what he might be doing to her. I heard a knock on the door, so i went and answered it, thinking it was mum.

It wasn't.

It was Brian.

I swear to God, that his eyes were black. He used to have lovely blue eyes, these eyes were cold and black, and he was very pale. Almost zombie like.

I screamed so loud and slammed the door. Mum ran back with a burly friend and i hid upstairs in my bedroom, listening to them.

His plan was to basically kidnap me so that we could run away together.

He wasn't going to leave until he had seen me. So i lent out the window and screamed ' DAD, JUST PISS OFF!'

And with that, he was gone.

He ran away. Around Europe. then he handed himself in.

He was sent to Dartmoor prison. I remember working down our local pub at the time in the kitchen and our local radio was on throughout the pub. and Brian was the main headline. Mortified. Every time i came out the kitchen, into the pub, people would go quiet. Urgh.

I didn't see him for a long time after that. But when i did eventually reunite with Brian, he told me i had put on weight and had i considered dieting!
WTF!

Then i didn't see him again for ages, then after my 1st child was born, I wanted Brian to meet him. Again 1st thing said after 12 years or so. You are so fat! Why are you so big? and then my son bumped his knee and Brian tried to heal him.
I chucked him out and that was the last time i saw him.

That 1 man. Had his own issues and managed to pass his issues onto an entire family. impressive.

So I gave it back. in my head i imagined Brian and his issues were a solid object, and I handed it back to him.

I have come to realise, that yes, this man did all those things, but as an adult, with my own mind, i have to take responsibility for what i put in my mouth. I cant continue to blame other people for why I am fat.

So i own it, and i'm dealing with it.

I am doing my absolute best for my kids to see food as fuel for their bodies and something for them not to feel ashamed or guilty about. It is my mission, a difficult mission, but i will do my best dammit!

its all about me me me

So then, this is a blog is it.... this is me blogging.....

People's first opinion of me, is, bubbly (hate that word, to me it means fat and jolly) funny, confident, nice and friendly. What a lovely person i have created for people to meet!

Don't get me wrong, i am all those things, but me at home, is a much tamer, quieter person, who is very insecure, is constantly battling with a million songs, dark thoughts, films, words, phrases swirling around my head all at the same time, whilst i have 3 children demanding attention from me, keeping a house, all day to day stuff. My head is noisy, like really noisy.

You know the film 'What Women Want', when Mel Gibson has discovered the gift of hearing women's thoughts, and walks through a crowd of women and its like a million thoughts that he can hear, that's me, that's is what my head sounds like.

I do have a point here, my point is, the main thoughts that plague my brain are the self bullying ones... 'you are fat' 'why do you bother even trying to look nice' 'look how gross you are you fat lump' etc etc

There are many many reasons why i struggle with my weight. Starting from a very young age, that will all come out in time, as this isn't a blimmin counselling session and i certainly don't want people to think i am looking for any sort of sympathy or anything, it is what it is.

But from a bad start in life, i managed to develop an eating disorder called B.E.D.

This is stands for Binge Eating Disorder.

In a round about way, i have the thought process of someone suffering with bulimia, but i dont throw up the good stuff. I keep it inside, as it makes me feel safe.

Unfortunately, the side effects to this binge eating are. You become FAT.

My binge eating comes and goes. If i'm stressed, i don't reach for a glass of wine or a cigarette, the following is a typical binge, i reach for a 12 pack of crisps, a family sized cake, a packet of biscuits (mainly hob nobs) along with a massive dinner of chips, chicken, kids left overs, a large bar of chocolate, lots of tea to help it go down, a loaf of bread with butter, cereal, sweets and if i can fit it in, maybe a few more biscuits, probably something like 4 rocky bars. I don't think about it, i don't taste it, i ram it in, mainly in secret, sometimes chocking on un chewed bits food.

And then i feel awful, really really terrible, like i just murdered someone. 'oh you useless fat cow' 'what the hell was that all about'.

Over the past year or so, i have come to terms that i have this eating disorder, after a binge or even during one, i can now allow a tiny window to open that gives me a clue as to what has triggered this binge. It doesn't stop me eating, but its a start that i now recognise why i have started the stuffing.

Its not even major stuff that can cause it, it could be that someone made a clumsy comment, or that i have seen something upsetting on the news.

For the past couple of weeks (nearly 3 now) i have had 2 binges. this is amazing for me as it was pretty much every day or every other day.

I made a decision about 2 months back that i wanted to tackle this thing. So i spent a good few weeks researching a way of eating that i could easily fit into my life, allow a few binges, as its gonna happen, its something within me, so there's no point denying it. And the i set myself a date for it to start, i had to be ready in my head, if you aren't ready to make changes to your eating habits, you will constantly fall off any diet wagon. You have to be ready.

I usually roll my eyes if anyone says anything about calorie control. 'groan' yeah yeah BORING

But, it makes sense. I worked out how many calories my body uses if i was sat on the sofa doing nothing all day, so the energy my body uses to keep it ticking over, heart, lungs, blinking, this is called BRM. Mine worked out around 1700 calories were needed

http://www.bmi-calculator.net/bmr-calculator/

So if i ate 1700 worth of calories a day, my body would burn the excess fat on my body.

But, it decided on 1500 calories a day, its a safe amount and i would get results and be healthier.

I also made a pact with myself to get off my ass and move, do some exercise. Not just to help shift my lumps, but for my brain. It makes me feel good, hyper almost, and it has given me my mojo back which was lost under a layer or 2 of lard.

So here i am 3 weeks later, 1 stone lighter and only 2 binges.

High five to me.