Have you ever had that immortal line said to you? Even better than that, have you ever had YOUR HUSBAND say that to you? You can see where I’m going here with this. I gave Dave a cuddle on the sofa last night when I walked past to make a cup of tea. I wanted … More “It’s not you. It’s me.”
It was about 4:30pm. You had light brown hair and looked to be around 30. You were wearing a black T shirt, blue jeans and white trainers. You had the Jamie Dornan look about you. Fifty shades of H O T. And you smelt AMAZING. You walked past me in the aisle. I stood aside … More To the guy in Tesco this afternoon…
My Facebook is flooded with Father’s Day tributes today. Of course it would be, and I don’t begrudge anyone posting the things they are, because we will be doing exactly the same when it’s our turn. But it’s just that. I honestly thought by now it would be OUR turn. Last June, it didn’t affect … More The pain of Father’s Day, when you want nothing more than to make your husband a dad.
So it went a little like this… Saturday night we went out. Like out out. With a group of mates. I had my legs out and my tits out. I wore heels for the first time in months. And I got so incredibly drunk. In a 5-Jagerbombs-1-Sambuca-shot-12-Archers-and-2-pints-of-other-lads’-Strongbows kinda way. I needed to get drunk. Mostly … More And on the 7th day… they had a stinking hangover and made a home movie 😉
Sometimes I miss the pill. I don’t miss having to remember to take it every day at the same time, and I don’t miss the way it reduced my libido to diddly squat, but I do miss how it regulated my fucking hormones. I had 10 PMS-free years on the pill. Oh how I look … More “Oh, I forgot I can’t make jokes when you’re hormonal…”
Writing this post is going to be hard. It’s going to be hard because my friend reads my blog. So does her husband. So do our mutual friends. So do many of her colleagues in fact. I thought about NOT writing it, or censoring myself. But that wouldn’t be honest. I started this blog promising … More My good friend is pregnant.
Each month I watch for blood, fearfully, for when it comes it means failure. I have failed once again to fulfil the expectations of others, which have become my own. I read The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood 15 years ago when doing my A Levels. Last night I watched the TV adaptation and dug … More The Handmaid’s Tale