Writing my book and joining a Virtual Book Tour ……

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Calvin and Hobbes

 

I very nearly didn’t bother to write this post. This virtual book tour is probably going to end with me, as I don’t know of anyone else writing a book. None of my readers would even know that I was supposed to write this post in the first place. First of all let me explain about the virtual book tour, my lovely friend, who is currently taking a break from blogging, to write her own book, nominated me as one of the next stops on the tour. The idea being that you talk about who nominated you, answer several questions about your own book and then nominate new writers as the next stop on the tour. I have no one to nominate, as I know no other authors or writers. Except for my sister, who is already a published author and writes as Candy Harper and C. J. Harper, for the young adult genre. She’s already working to several deadlines and I won’t burden her further. So that’s it, this virtual book tour stops here with me; but if you are writing or even thinking about writing a book, please do let me know and I will write an extra post to introduce you.

My main reason for not writing this blog is fear (!) I have finished my book and have spent what seems like several decades (ok three very long months) editing it over and over again. I have sent it to a couple of agents and have heard nothing back, zip, nada, nula, niente, not even a whisper. I know I need to send it to several more, I think twelve is generally thought to be a good number. Then perhaps I should consider publishing as an eBook instead. Unfortunately I am almost paralyzed by fear of rejection; but also a fear of having spent eighteen months of my life writing something that I’m passionate about, devoting a lot of time and effort to it, only to be told that I shouldn’t have bothered. I’m sure that the rejection is put in a nicer way, but even the sweetest rejection letter ever written, is still just that: a big fat rejection.

So in my infinite wisdom I have allowed myself to listen to the devil on my shoulder and just not bother sending it out again, because right now I still have a chance. It might be a million to one chance, but a tiny chance is better than no chance at all. To put it simply, I’m just a big fat scaredy cat who can’t handle rejection. It’s not a bad place to live, not putting myself out there for rejection means I’m a lot happier and sadly it’s probably my biggest personal fault. I’m just not very good at handling criticism. I have enough trouble fighting of periodic bouts of depression and or anxiety and I don’t really know why I suffer from those two things. What I do know is rejection can be avoided, if I simply don’t put myself and my book out there.

Of course It’s a silly way to live your life and that’s why I am forcing myself to write this blog. I have procrastinated long and hard and my friend kindly gave me this opportunity. I would be a fool to waste it. It might not help my book in any way shape or form, I don’t think for one moment, that an agent will magically happen upon my blog and find themselves in desperate need of my chick lit book. I am hoping instead it might be a metaphorical kick up the backside and I will finally send my synopsis to several more agents.

In my last post I wrote about my love for the inimitable Joan Rivers. Part of the reason I loved her was because of her fearlessness. Joan Rivers would absolutely have sent her book out the minute it was finished, with no procrastination whatsoever. No doubt she suffered more than one rejection in her life, but it didn’t stop her and she became a legendary comedienne, author, actress, television presenter and much more. So although my hero passed away last week, I can try and take a little inspiration from her. I shall get off of my rather large posterior and bloody well do something with the book, that I spent so many precious minutes writing. So enough wittering, here are my answers to the questions:

WHAT AM I WORKING ON? As you have probably already gathered my book is finished and although I may have to rewrite it entirely, if no one wants to publish it, for now I am happy with it (!) It was written for the Chick lit genre and in a nut shell, it’s about facing up to your fears and not letting other people, or society in general affect the way you live your life.

HOW DOES MY WORK DIFFER FROM OTHERS IN MY GENRE? My protagonist is an overweight girl and that is the biggest difference, from many other books in the chick lit genre. Having spent my entire adult life battling weight problems, I was fed up of the heroines in books being so called perfect size ten girls. New studies show; one in every three teenager is overweight in Britain today. I wanted a book that could relate to a part of the population, that is often marginalized or over looked entirely by the media. I wanted to try and address the feelings of inadequacy and despair, that can arise by being constantly bombarded by societies perception of beauty for women. Or in other words slim is beautiful and fat is ugly.

WHY DO I WRITE WHAT I DO? I have spent many years as an overweight and unhappy woman. I have tortured myself mentally because I didn’t fit in with societies idea of beauty. Some of my teenage years were spent as a wall flower and I was forever comparing myself unfavourably to my skinnier peers. Boys just don’t tend to date bigger girls, particularly in those ‘oh so self conscious’ middle teen aged years. Naturally I was miserable because I was fat and I ate because I was miserable and it became a vicious circle. I preferred to bury my feelings under a mountain of donuts, rather than talk about them, or god forbid express them in any way. I judged myself far too harshly and I hope that my book might help people who are experiencing the same form of self loathing. Because you know what? Big can be beautiful! Please stick two fingers up at society, don’t hate yourself, instead love yourself for who you are. My heroine Daisy becomes a virtual recluse and comfort eats herself through student life, instead of partying and living life to the fullest. Finally she learns to accept herself for who she is and with the help of a new friend, decides to experience life and everything it has to offer. Metaphorically shaking her fat bottom at anyone foolish enough to try and tell her that big is anything other than beautiful.

WHAT IS MY WRITING PROCESS? It’s basically verbal diarrhoea in written form! I just write a minimum of 500 words, five days a week and didn’t ever read back, let alone edit, a single word until I had 106 000 words written. Of course I occasionally succumbed to writers block and sometimes to an acute case of ‘lazyitis.’ On the whole this method worked for me, until it came to editing. I nearly cried several hundred times when I realised that I hadn’t always stayed in the same tense throughout the book, my grammar was appalling and my sentences were longer than the great wall of China! Still, it stopped a lot of my procrastinating and I found it a really productive way to get words on the paper. If I stopped to edit along the way I found that I would write the same first page over and over and never write more than 1000 words. This way even though editing was vile; I was astonished and pleased to have actually written an entire book!

Good luck to any writers reading this and please do get in touch if you would like to join this virtual book tour.     

   

Why I wish Joan Rivers was my best friend.

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Oddly as a child all of my friends were of the real life variety. It is only as an adult that I have found myself wishing, that certain women would actually become my real life friends. The chances of that actually happening are slim to none. So occasionally, I will indulge in a fantasy friendship, with various females that inspire such an odd devotion in me. Caitlin Moran, Lena Dunham, Sarah Waters, Dawn French and Dorothy Parker to name but a few. All of them fearless and shockingly talented writers, girls I could drink gin with, talk politics to and unleash my inner feminist with. In short, the women I want to be, when I grow up (and start drinking gin!)  For a while I worried that I was the only person to have imaginary friends as an adult and my relief was palpable, when I read in ‘Moranthology,’ that even my imaginary best friend Caitlin Moran, has her own imaginary friends. Hooray it is normal and I am not crazy, well not much. There is however, a woman who transcends all of the above, Joan Rivers. She’s the woman I view not just as an invisible best friend, but my hero too.

I know to some, she might be a slightly odd choice of hero, but I have a few heroes that inspire me Violette Szabo, for one. She might be a more traditional choice, but the two inspire me in different ways. For me, Joan Rivers is an amazing role model for all women. She is eighty one and still kicking the proverbial arse of her contemporaries. Something she perfected, as one of the very first female stand up comedians in America during the 1950s. She is acerbic, non PC and most importantly riotously funny. She may take the mickey out of anyone and everyone, but she takes it out of herself first and foremost. You wouldn’t be able to make a joke at her expense, without finding out that she had already gotten there first.

To me she is fearless, feisty and ferociously talented. As a woman she has been at the top of her game, not just as a comedian, but also as an actress, author and talk show host, not to mention star of her own reality show. Her ambition and refusal to ‘lay down and accept defeat,’ even after suffering both personal tragedies and massive career setbacks, are highly commendable personality traits. Traits that I would love to have, I can’t imagine Joan Rivers was too scared of rejection, to even send her manuscript to an agent. Something that I am currently battling with.

Not only has her career spanned many genres and decades but she’s still relevant and hilarious at the grand age of 81. That’s 81! I had to say it twice because to me this is awe inspiring, I find myself terribly wimpy about age and if I’m honest sometimes life in general. When I have found myself feeling anxious or worrying unnecessarily, I try to use the mantra WWJD? Not, as you might think what would Jesus do? For me what would Joan do? This is a woman who zip wired in Las Vegas when she was 79; she has also recently tried pot and kissed a woman for the first time on her show ‘Joan and Melissa, Joan knows best.’ Not for Joan an early retirement and a slow sink into old age! That is exactly the way I hope to be when I’m in my eighties. Still sticking two fingers up at the world and having fun whilst doing it. I also hope I look just like her at 81. Yes you did read that last sentence correctly, given the choice of looking like Joan or looking like an 81 year old, I would pick Joan every time.

This post is entirely my own opinion and may be viewed as a somewhat self indulgent piece and a deviation from subjects that I normally blog about. But as you probably know, Joan Rivers is seriously ill at the moment and this is my chance to pay tribute to a truly amazing woman. If anyone is listening please let Joan get well very soon. Everyone needs a hero in their life, particularly a wise cracking legend like Joan Rivers.

BUSY BEE

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Sincere apologies, it’s been a very long time since my last blog and therein lies my problem, time. Or should I say lack of it?

Time has not been my friend recently and I’m not just talking about the wrinkles it’s been busily adding to my face, every time I look in the mirror! I just never seem to have the time to do anything anymore. The summer holidays are almost through and I have barely achieved anything that I planned to do. I wanted to catch up with all my friends, spend long leisurely days at the park with my boys and fit in all of those long avoided jobs. Such as printing off photos and actually putting them into photo albums, instead of just adding them to the already bulging box in my cupboard. I have managed several play dates with the boys and my friends and the photos, naturally, are still on various digital devices; I haven’t even thought about printing, let alone putting them anywhere. Where has all my time gone?

Moving house has claimed most of it. We moved the day after the boys broke up from school, which also happened to be T’s 8th birthday and the day the heat wave broke and we almost drowned in a tidal wave of typical British rainy weather.  Two weeks later we went on holiday for a week, it was wonderful apart from a few mishaps. Three trips to hospital for me and one sick 11 year old, but I digress. Time, as it is wont to do, flew past whilst we were having fun and before I knew it we were back home and back amongst a pile of unpacked boxes from our move. Plus all the usual daily chores, child care, Granny minding, not to mention a mountain of dirty holiday clothes that desperately needed washing.

Don’t get me wrong, having had seven years in the past without a family holiday I am very grateful that we get to have one. I am also delighted to now be living in a damp/mould free house. It’s just that age old problem of having no time and wondering where to get more of it? Is there perhaps a shop somewhere, selling 25 hour days or 8 days a week? And if not then why not? Best idea since sliced bread!

I realise I am far from alone, no doubt every busy working woman or Mother can identify with the feeling of running around chasing your tail, because no matter how hard you try you never ever get to cross the last thing off of your to do list. I also have a tendency to feel a huge amount of guilt every time I sit down and try to relax. Surely I shouldn’t be putting my feet up with a diet coke, just because I haven’t sat down all day, because I could be getting on with a myriad of chores instead. Yet if I didn’t stop occasionally through out my day, I think I would collapse in a quivering heap on the floor mumbling ‘the sun has finally come out, I must put another load of washing on!’  Plus the caffeine withdrawal from my two daily diet cokes would be horrendous ;)

Finally a minor miracle occurred, this rainy bank holiday weekend, I have nothing to do. Actually that’s not quite true, the living room is a little untidy and I haven’t hoovered in two days, I still have millions of photos to sort through. BUT I have unpacked every last box, I have no social engagements, the kids are pottering around happily and I am contemplating just lying on the bed and doing nothing for a few hours – bliss! Except I have a very guilty feeling because I haven’t blogged in weeks ……..

 

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Being a Stay at home Mum

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I’ve just written a post, where I mention the frustration of having a good idea for a blog and then having no idea how to go about actually writing it. So I may as well confess, I’m stuck! I have been meaning to write this post for a few months now but as yet …. So I decided to just sit down and write, but as you can see I’m waffling on about writers block and as yet haven’t even mentioned being a stay at home Mum (SAHM) I wanted to write a post on what I do as a SAHM, my ‘job’ if you like?

I thought if I just started writing the words would somehow come tumbling out and yet, still nothing. The problem is two fold, firstly I do so many different things in a day it would be hard to quantify and secondly I guess if I’m completely honest with you, I worry that people will read this post and think ‘that’s all you do?’ I loathe the age old battle of the SAHM v the working Mum, I’ve even blogged about it, but unfortunately it still exists. I have had many, seemingly innocuous, comments over the nineteen years that I have been doing this. They usually go along the lines of ‘You’re a stay at home Mum, it must be lovely to have so much time on your hands.’ I try to be a decent person and not bop them on the head whilst screaming, ‘time what time?!’ before being carted off by the men in white coats, a dribbling wreck.

Although even if the above scenario really did happen, I would probably be imploring the driver of the ambulance to stop off at the supermarket, on the way to the hospital for broken Mum’s, as I have nothing to put in the boys packed lunches tomorrow. Then if we could just squeeze in a quick trip home first, so I can put a quick load of washing in the machine and pick up little Jimmy’s swimming kit; because for the fourth week in a row he has left it in a mouldering heap under his bed, unwashed from the previous weeks swimming trip. Whilst we are there please excuse the pile of unwashed dishes, it may be the twenty first century but we still can’t afford a dish washer and dinner for six people creates a lot of mess.

I think I would have to be sedated with a mega dose of Valium, before I could forget all the whirling thoughts about my children, the house and my never ending ‘to do list.’ Come to think of it I should probably stop writing about enforced stays in hospitals, because it is starting to sound like my idea of heaven! Don’t get me wrong I love being a SAHM, but there are times when I get very frustrated/fed-up/bored of it. As the above paragraph might have given you a tiny hint, I also sometimes struggle to keep up with everything and free time is most certainly not a given.

So what do I do all day? Well I won’t give you a detailed account, because I find my life pretty boring at times and I wouldn’t want to share that boredom with other poor unsuspecting souls. In a nut shell there is a huge amount of cooking and cleaning, even the amount of dust six people can create is alarming. Not to mention the fact that I have to wash 42 pairs of socks every week and don’t get me started on what 5 boys in one household can do to a bathroom. My load has lessened recently as my eldest is now at university. That said he arrived home the other day with a huge suitcase full of dirty washing.

I also take my Husband’s Grandmother to the hairdressers and do her shopping at Marks and Spencers. I’m now quite adept at elbowing the blue rinse brigade out of the way, in my dive for the last piece of reduced salmon. I wonder if I could put that on my C.V.? I’m also a keen ebayer, in fact almost all of our clothes shopping is done online and the majority is from ebay. I can dress the boys in Joules and Mini Boden for less than I would spend on clothes from Asda. W prefers Jack Wills and Ralph Lauren and for me, I buy my beloved fifties style dresses in the wrong season at a fraction of the usual price and sell them on again after a few months. In effect I rent my wardrobe, a great way of always having gorgeous dresses.

This takes up a lot of time, I’m brilliant at finding hidden bargains and dressing us all in great clothes on a budget but it requires patience and a steely nerve. I must resist all temptation not to go above budget and not to cry for too long if I miss out on a gorgeous Hell Bunny dress, five sobs per dress is my maximum.

The faint hearted might want to skip the next few lines, but I promised honesty on this blog …. Annoyingly a lot of my time is spent on the loo these days and to say that is frustrating would be an understatement. IBS and all it’s embarrassing foibles is probably best saved for another post; but if my postman happens to be reading this please save my ebay parcel delivery for the afternoon, how you always manage to ring the doorbell whilst I’m on the loo, I will never know.

Then there is the small business of moving house. We are in the process of moving for the second time in 8 months and the 8th time in 8 years! i’m sensing that 8 is not my lucky number. This house is great but has chronic damp to the point that all of our bedroom furniture and our living room bookcases have turned an alarming shade of blue/green due to the spectacular amounts of mould found growing on the back. More alarmingly W’s asthma has gotten so much worse since we moved in here. Needless to say moving takes a large amount of time, sometimes I feel I am constantly either packing or unpacking. On the plus side we have very little clutter, I am ruthless about getting rid of it, less to pack!

I could go on and on about my life as a SAHM, suffice to say every Mum has so very much to juggle and goodness only knows how working Mums manage to stay on top of everything. I’m running out of time for blogging, so I will end this post with a small plea. Ask me about my IBS, my weight, even my age but please don’t ask me about my free time. I promise not to bop you on the head, I’m a passive girl, but I can’t promise not to start dribbling all over you.

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Oh poo, I have chronic IBS!

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The faint of heart might want to look away now. I started this blog with the intention of being completely honest and open about my life. So even though I loathe talking about IBS, it dominates my life in such an enormous way; I wouldn’t be living up to my honesty promise, if I didn’t blog openly about it.

Having suffered for nearly three years, I have got a lot more open about telling people that I have a problem. Not by choice I might add, there are many things I would rather do than tell virtual strangers about my bowel habits, like having a tooth pulled at the dentist! But if you have this disease, then you will know that it’s not long before your dignity goes flying out of the window.

That said, although I see my doctor at least once a month and IBS is almost all we talk about, I still can’t quite look him in the eye when I say the word poo. I know, it’s ridiculous for a grown woman to blush at the mere mention of the word; but I would far rather be rudely refusing to meet his eye, staring at the floor, out of the window or anywhere except at him, when I say the word poo! Rather hilariously I find myself being embarrassed just by typing this and just accidentally hit caps lock, so it looked as though I were shouting the word out loud. Who knew fingers could have Freudian slips? Apparently I can’t even type the word like a normal person. Hopefully if I repeat the word numerous times in my blog, I might get used to it. Don’t hold your breath though ….

IBS is a horrible thing to suffer from, losing control of your bowels in a public place must hands down one of the most embarrassing things you could ever experience. Very fortuitously, I have always been near a toilet when it happened. I’m not sure I can convey the panic and discomfort very adequately. It’s almost one of the last bastions of decency, that we Brits and possibly the rest of the world too, do not talk about our bowel habits in public. This is particularly true of girls, in my experience anyway. I would far rather chat about a great orgasm to my girl friends, than tell them about my IBS in detail. So no one wants to suffer the ignominy of losing control of their bowels in a public place.

Fortunately although I have had a lot of near misses, which are bad enough, I have always just manage to get to a toilet in the nick of time. The first time it happened to me, I was driving home from my sister’s house, she lives in Oxfordshire and it’s an hour away from me. My stomach started rumbling ominously ten minutes into my journey. Had I known what I know now, I would have immediately turned the car round, hurried back to her house and to the sanctuary of a not so public toilet.

Instead I loosened the top button on my jeans and hoped it was just trapped wind. As I drove out of Burford, onto the country roads and away from any toilets, my tummy started to hurt. It kept up the alternate rumbling and painful spasms, until I needed the toilet desperately and of course there were none. It got so bad, I actually thought I would have to stop and go behind a big tree, but I knew I had diarrhoea and I couldn’t quite bring myself to go in a field somewhere.

I was so desperate I almost considered just going in the car, but how would I get out and into my house without someone spotting me? Should I speed dial my husband and explain my unexpected poo emergency and ask him to come out with a large towel to shield me and then what about the car upholstery and my clothes and oh god the smell doesn’t bear thinking about. So I clenched my teeth and of course my buttocks, broke all the speed limits and amazingly managed to pull into a pub 15 excruciating minutes later.

I parked across three spaces and knocked over several small children in my haste to get to the loo and for the first time in my life I paid no attention to polite niceties, such as queuing. I had made it in the nick of time and the ensuing explosion in the toilet was not pretty, sadly for me it was also not quiet and I sat shakily on the loo for a good ten minutes longer than was strictly necessary, just to make sure everyone had left before I dared show my face – beyond embarrassing.

It wasn’t a great experience, but I put it down to a mild bout of food poisoning and all was well for a few more weeks. Then of course it happened again and then again; until I could no longer blame what I had eaten and made an appointment to see my doctor. I managed to use every word under the sun to describe what had been happening to me recently except for the more obvious poo. IBS was suspected and I was given Loperamide or Imodium as it is better known and for a while it worked. Then it was no longer strong enough and I was given co codamol.

These pills gave me back some quality of life and although I still suffered attacks of diarrhoea at least twice a week, I knew the pills would stop it relatively quickly. That said it was still a very embarrassing thing to deal with, on several occasions I had to leave the gym because of an episode and eventually I had to give in and take the pills before I had an attack. This worked really well for a while, but by now I was experiencing other symptoms, such as extreme abdominal bloating and severe cramps. So I had no choice but to start taking Tramadol for pain relief. I also had to give up on drinking wine. It was, as you can imagine, a traumatic time to say the least, wine had been a great friend of mine and I was sorry not to be seeing so much of her.

Next in my IBS journey were the multitude of tests. You name a bowel condition or a disease that affects your bowels and I have probably had a test for it. I have been poked and prodded and often quite happily, because I really do want to know what on earth is wrong with me? That said, not many tests are particularly enjoyable. A colonoscopy has to be right up there with them.  The indignity of having a tube shoved up your bottom in a room full of people is nothing compared to the discomfort you feel when they start inflating your stomach with lots of air via that same tube. Good grief, it is an awful sensation, you feel like you are literally going to explode and just when you think you can stand it no longer it gets worse. You are suddenly extremely nauseous and there was a medical reason for that, but i was too busy concentrating on not being sick on the nice nurse’s shoes that I plum forgot to listen to the explanation. And don’t get me started on having an enema before hand……

Then there are the delightful pills known as picolax, which give your bowels a thorough clean out. One of the theories as to what was causing my problems was that I might have impacted fecal matter in my bowels – I do apologize for that last sentence I hope you are still with me …. Needless to say taking Picolax was an awful weekend. To take a pill that you know is going to give you a vile stomach upset takes a lot of courage. Taking another one 8 hours later when you are in the midst of it all is sheer madness. I got very ill and dehydrated and eventually when my vision started to blur I gave up and took co codamol to stop it. Then there was the mega antibiotic metronidazole, which made me feel as if I had terrible morning sickness for two weeks, but with no baby joy at the end. By contrast the CBT scan was a blast, the two month wait for the result not so much.

I could go on about the amount of treatments I have taken, but I think you get the message and you can now probably understand why I hate talking about IBS – nothing about it is pleasant! Yet talk about it I must because I hope if anyone else is in the same position as me, then they might find it helpful to read. If your bowels are in perfect health, then I apologise for what you have just read!

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Beware of the green eyed monster

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Before you read on, I would just like to clarify that these are my thoughts and opinions. I’m not trying to lecture anyone. I know we are all human and of course we do all make mistakes – it’s only natural and we shouldn’t berate ourselves or others. Sometimes we do let our feelings/emotions get the better of us; even when we know that it is the worst course of action we can possibly take, we still do stupid things. Things which not only hurt others, but invariably hurt ourselves too. No one is perfect, least of all me, I’m just trying to banish a negative emotion from my life, that in my opinion we would all be better off without. By all means feel free to disagree.

We have all experienced the odd pang of jealousy, when a friend has some really good news; on the very same day that your car broke down, you received a large tax bill and the heel broke on your favourite pair of shoes. I will also be honest and admit that sometimes, it’s been more than the odd pang … That said, over the last few years I have realised what a horrible, negative emotion jealousy is and I have made a concerted effort to try and kick that green eyed monster out of my life.

It hasn’t been easy, I’m insecure about the way I look and a life long struggle with my weight, has only compounded that. We also don’t have a lot of money and if a friend mentioned her latest trip abroad, it would be hard not to exhale wistfully. But I have both witnessed and experienced, the awful impact that jealousy can have on a person. It is such a negative emotion, that I truly wish I could eradicate it from my life and yours, for good.

I was talking about jealousy with my close friend X, at the weekend. We both admitted that we had fallen victim to other people’s jealousy, at various times in our lives. It’s actually a hard thing to talk about so openly, as soon as you say something along the lines of, ‘I think so and so is treating me that way, because she is jealous,’ you are opening yourself up to accusations or thoughts of ‘bighead!’ I only ever come to the conclusion of jealousy, when I have ruled out any other reasons, for people behaving in a certain way towards me.

Unfortunately it’s usually women, being jealous of other women and I wish that we could support instead of envy. At my last job, I was fast tracked for a managerial position, after only 6 months of working part time at the company. This caused bitterness amongst some of my female colleagues. So much so, that the lady who ran the staff canteen, pulled me aside one lunchtime, to warn me of the whispering (bitching?) that she had heard from female colleagues about myself.

The meanness didn’t always happen behind my back, one of the female managers told me to my face; that not only did she not understand why I had been promoted. She had actually called her old boss, who had been part of the recruiting team for the management program, and asked why I had been promoted? I had never worked under this woman and she was new to the company, and to this day, I’m still unsure why she felt qualified to judge me so negatively? Thanks for the support, sister woman! The one person who not only supported me throughout my promotion; but helped me through a bit of a wobble, when I had a really tough day in my new position, was a man.

When X and I discussed our most recent experiences of jealousy, she admitted that she has suffered from it off and on for her entire adult life. Modest as ever, she thought it was because she is small, I disagreed. X doesn’t experience jealousy because she is small, she suffers from it because she is quite simply a beautiful woman. Right at the beginning of our friendship,I once felt rather invisible next to her on a night out. It was of course my own insecurities that were to blame. I remember thinking that this could go one of two ways:  I could either let myself succumb to jealousy and distance myself from her, or I could simply let go of any jealous thoughts and love her for who she is.

Thank god I chose the second path, X is beautiful inside and out. I have had a great friendship with her for the last six years and we have gotten closer as every year passes. Now I can honestly say, my life would be a much bleaker place without her in it. How easy it would have been, to let my jealousy rule and choose the other option? More fool me! I would have lost someone who has always been there for me and a friend for life. Yet still, she is continually judged on her looks.

Of course it isn’t always easy; we live in a very materialistic world, where possessions are highly prized and youth and beauty are valued more than almost anything else. Sadly it is almost a given that envy is a by product of our society. In my brief acquaintance with the Twitter world, I can’t help but be aghast at how prevalent trolling is and more often than not, it is women who are the perpetrators. We bitch and laugh at the way a poor celebrity might look in an unflattering paparazzi shot, mainly because it makes us feel better about ourselves.

I read an article on advice from the amazing Sarah Silverman yesterday and I don’t have it to hand, so will have to paraphrase, but it went something like this ‘stop judging/bitching about other women and instead why not compliment your friends. Don’t put people down, just to make yourself feel better. Instead tell your friend she looks gorgeous today, or how about admiring yourself in the mirror, instead of constantly criticizing the way you look.’

Ten years ago, we might have laughed about a certain celebrity with our friends; but now it’s put out there in the social media world and the very person we are bitching about can actually bear witness to our sarcastic musings. Imagine the hurt and insecurity this must cause, it’s hard enough to experience jealousy on a personal level, when it is one on one or if you are particularly unlucky a small group of women/girls; but imagine that feeling multiplied by 1,000 or even 10,000!

The question I have to ask, is why do we do it? Why are we so mean to each other? To our fellow sister women in particular. Even as a dissatisfied size 22, I would see a beautiful woman and definitely experience a twinge of envy that I didn’t look that amazing and never would. Then I would make an effort to let myself appreciate her beauty and try not to let it affect my life in a negative way. It isn’t always easy, but it gets easier the more I do it. That said I’m far from perfect and If I have a really bad day and do let jealousy affect me and get me down, I promise I will never ever tweet it.

Sometimes a touch of envy can be a good thing, it can motivate you into achieving more from life, but don’t let it affect you so much that you obsessively trawl Facebook feeling jealous at every happy status. Next time we feel a pang of envy we should remember that we are pretty amazing ourselves, no one deserves to be bitched about, and we all feel jealousy. I might envy X her slender beauty but she has always longed for big boobs. She also hasn’t had an easy life, she might have been front of the line for beauty but that doesn’t mean everything in life was handed to her on a plate. So don’t be jealous, let that pretty girl into your life, you never know it might be S and by god she’s a friend worth having! I’m off to ask her what mascara she uses, I have a touch of lash envy …. I mean I admire her luscious eyelashes and will compliment her on them instead ;)

 

 

I love blogging

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It’s taken me a while to get to this point, but I can now happily say that I love blogging. I have had a few teething problems and worried excessively about making some of my innermost thoughts public, but I’m now sure that it was all worth it. I know I’m several years late to the game, but who knew there was such a fantastic sense of community amongst bloggers? Obviously not this little Luddite, or I might have started sooner ….

I wasn’t even aware that there were blogging conferences and even blogging festivals and now I want to attend them all. Blogging has given me a voice and a chance to express myself, mostly without judgement. More importantly, it has given me a community of potential new friends to connect to. Every time I blog I gain some more followers and that makes me a very happy bunny. I have also had some wonderful comments made on my posts, which reminds me that I am not alone. When life occasionally hands me lemons, I have people ready with the proverbial Tequila!

Even when I published a post which barely made sense to me, losing my religion, I received two very helpful comments. Even though I had admitted, I wasn’t really sure whether I was coming or going, with the whole religion conundrum. (How can anyone miss, what they never really had?) Both commenters seemed to understand, exactly what I was getting at and offered me sympathy and understanding. Plus some great advice – exactly what I wanted from my post and my blog in general.

Then there are the lovely comments I get in private, inevitably life seldom turns out as expected and when things go wrong, its amazing to get such a show of support. These ones are mainly from family and friends; but when the going got tough for me, I certainly learnt who my friends were and how much I meant to them – thanks guys!

There is also something wonderful about blogging that I hadn’t been expecting – the support shown to newbie bloggers from the old hands. Everyone I have asked for advice, has been happy to help. None more so, than my lovely friend who blogs here. She’s the one who started me on my whole blogging journey and has patiently answered all of my inane questions, including ‘how do I use a hashtag on Twitter?’ We have made a pact to attend BritMums Live next year and I’m counting down the days already …. If you get the chance do read her blog, even if she wasn’t one of my dearest friends, I would wholeheartedly recommend it to you. She writes beautifully and inspires me with so many of her posts. I have been meaning to link to her blog for a while, but have only just learnt how to do so. I also now know what to do with a hashtag ;)

Help from complete strangers was unexpected. I was absolutely delighted to not only receive some much needed blogging tips from this blogger extraordinaire, but also a guest blog spot on her blog in March next year. A mere glance at her blog, shows what a busy lady she is, but she kindly took the time to respond to my email. Goodness only knows what I will write for my spot, but I have a good few months to worry about it, so big thanks to Victoria Welton who blogs here. She also runs the marvelous #pocolo linky every Friday, plus several others.

I love the like minded people that I meet through my blog or indeed through their blog. I have considered myself to be a feminist, from the moment I understood the meaning of the word. Well duh, I’m a girl therefore I’m a feminist, was my teen-aged self’s way of thinking and to be honest it still is. I love the strong undercurrent of feminism that runs through many of the blogs that I read and although I’m not sure I’m confident to blog about it just yet (need to read a few more books first) you can expect a post soon. I hadn’t expected blogging to inspire and motivate me to improve my education, I certainly underestimated the power of a great blog.

Blogging makes me feel better about myself and when I get the chance, I love clicking on the same tags that I have just used on my own post. It really does make life, just that little bit easier when you realise that you are not the only one suffering with a health complaint or from a loss of religion. Where else could you connect to fellow IBS sufferers of Mums who also have four boys and learn how to cope with life’s little/big curve balls?

There is a down side to social medial and I am mentally writing a post on that as I type, but I wanted this post to concentrate on the up side. I blog for fun, for answers, to participate in discussions, for advice, to vent, but also to make new friends. I wasn’t sure exactly what I would get from blogging and to be honest, I certainly wasn’t expecting much. Thank goodness I persevered because it really has had a positive impact on my life. I have learned so much about myself and about life in general, that I would recommend blogging to anyone

Finally a big thanks must go to my number one fan (ok, my only fan) who reads every single thing that I write and happily tells me it was amazing. I might test her one day and write something truly dire, just to see what she says. Then again she’d still support me, because she’s my sister and I’ve told her it’s her job, thanks sis!

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