Monday, 29 April 2013


If you've been reading my blog for any amount of time, you know I sporadically produce a post about how I prefer being single blah blah blah. And for the most part I feel that way so I am really practicing what I preach. The idea of being in a functional relationship with a real life member of the opposite sex is somewhat of an alien concept to me - I can barely even imagine it.

But there's a flip side to this. There are some things that suck about not being in a relationship. Here are some of them . . .

Now I'm not actually the biggest cinema fan to be honest. I hate that it costs so much and you have to sit through approximately three hours of adverts before the TRAILERS even begin, by which time you've usually ate all your overpriced food already . . . blah blah blah. But occasionally I DO actually like the sound of a film and want to see it. But all of my friends have already been to see it . . . with their other halves. And I am not one of these cool people who can go to the cinema themselves. So approximately twice a year, THAT sucks!

I rarely get a plus-one to parties, weddings etc. And, if I do, I have no one to bring. It's a double-edged sword that one.

I have no one to try and cook me dinner to impress me. This means I have to cook my OWN dinner. This impresses neither me nor my taste buds.

I'm not saying everyone does this - in fact most people don't. But you do get that odd person who asks if you're in a relationship and, when you say no, they're like "Oh, the right person will come along when you least expect it." And, well meaning though it is, you don't really want their pity and sometimes, if you're REALLY not in the mood, you kinda feel like retorting "oh, well don't worry, I will punch you in the face when you least expect it." Just me?

Well, to be honest, lack of sex doesn't really bother me too much. I can go for months without having any. And since my last "encounter" was only in December, that was less than six months ago, which is pretty recent by my standards! But I'm not really a casual sex sort of girl so unless I'm in a relationship (or THINK I'm in a relationship!), it's highly unlikely I'm getting any. But, although I can cope without, it CAN be a minor annoyance at times.

This one annoys me more than the previous one actually as it's far more inconvenient. Some of my clothes can be awkward, especially if they zip/button up the back. It can be hard to get dressed by yourself, and I don't really want to wander the halls of my flat chapping on my flatmates doors, presenting them with my unzipped back and asking them to help me get dressed. If I wasn't single, this would be less of an issue. I imagine.

I guess, on the whole though, these are pretty trivial issues. But that doesn't make them any less valid, right? (I should point out that this is meant to be pretty tongue-in-cheek, it's not a self-pitying post. Well, not really anyway!)

Can you think of anything else that sucks about being single?

Friday, 26 April 2013


Most of us on Facebook have "friends" that we don't know that well. Whether it's online friends we've never actually met in real life, people we worked with eons ago, people we've drifted apart from . . . or even old school friends who we literally have not met in years. It's tempting, especially with the last set of friends, to think that we should remove them as friends.

Let's face it, when it comes to old school friends and classmates . . . as you get older, it's hard not to compare yourself to them. For example, I'm edging closer and closer to my mid thirties (gulp!) therefore the bulk of people I went to school with are happily married and/or have kids. Or have a career I could never possibly hope to have. Or live somewhere abroad and seem to have the easy life. It's easy to make yourself feel bad when you use others as a measuring stick, no matter what your own situation.

But . . . don't be so quick to click on that remove button. Here are some reasons why I like to keep my old classmates around . . .

1. You can rub YOUR life in THEIR faces too.
I may not be the biggest fan of my own life right now, I may be single, I may be stuck jobwise and about to be homeless (sort of) but one thing I DO have is a good social life. So, I may not have a family or a brilliant career, but I can rub my exciting single glamorous social life in THEIR face just like they can smear their personal success all over mine. That being said, my "glamorous social life" really refers to trips to Wetherspoons and the pub quiz but . . . it's the small victories, 'kay??? ;-)

2. You can occasionally get a date out of it.
I've did it. I had a semi-relationship with one guy I fancied in school thanks to Facebook, and a few others have asked me out. It's almost like now we're grown-ups, we can finally ADMIT we fancied each other and get all that sexual tension out of the way. (Of course, this is only an advantage if you are actually single.)

3. You can feel good about yourself.
Last week a girl from school actually private messaged me to tell me she wanted me to model for her, and said that I looked amazing in all of my pictures. Okay, I'm not really sure what she wanted me to model FOR, or whether she was just drunk and winding me up, but hey, it gave me an ego boost anyway! Especially since I never thought I was particularly attractive back in my schooldays and lacked a hell of a lot of confidence.

4. It can occasionally help old wounds heal.
I've spoken before about how I left school feeling a bit like I'd lost my circle of friends, they drifted apart from me and I always blamed them. Later on, years later, thanks to reconnecting on Facebook, I realised that it was a two way street and I hadn't made the effort to keep connected either because of my bitterness and insecurities. Okay, some of them WERE actually just rude and didn't give a shit (Facebook helped me learn THAT too) but some of them did actually care and continue even NOW to make the effort to keep in contact.

5. There's occasionally no reason . . . apart from the fact that it can just be NICE.
And I don't mean nice as in "you're being nice if you are facebook friends with your schoolfriends." I mean that there are some nice people out there that we share a link with . . . our past. We may not have known all of them that well, and may have known them at a weird time in our lives . . . but we have all these shared memories. And that's something I personally like holding on to.

The last one is probably the biggest reason I want to keep these friends in my life . . . even if it IS just my virtual life.

Are you friends with old schoolfriends on Facebook? What are your thoughts?

Tuesday, 23 April 2013


This week has been epically shit so far, so I was actually surprised that the CrossFit class I had been sort of dreading agreeing to go to actually was probably the highlight of the past few days.

I didn't really know what I expected when I promised to go along with Colette and Kate, having never did anything of the sort before. I'd looked at videos on YouTube, of course, but they actually made me MORE confused than anything else if I'm honest, because all the workouts looked so different.

But apparently that's sort of the point. I think.

I'm about as fit as a sack of potatoes. That might be an insult to a sack of potatoes.

To be honest, before my holiday I was starting to build up my stamina and fitness levels at the gym, could run for longer periods on the treadmill and the like. That fell by the wayside in Lanzarote where the most exercise I got was trying to balance a 2-for-1 cocktail in each hand while doing the free shot you got with it. To the point where on Sunday I walked down to my local shop to buy wine and came back huffing and puffing. A fucking two minute walk - ridiculous!

So by the time I walked into ClanFit this evening, I was vaguely terrified.

It was nowhere near as bad as I thought though. I'd checked the WOTD (Workout of the Day) out on facebook this morning and it was like reading gibberish. I had absolutely no idea what it meant. I also thought I was going to be working all out for an hour, which is the main reason why I was absolutely convinced I might die.

But in reality, the workout itself was a lot shorter than that. Me and Kate spent some time being showed how to swing a kettlebell. I actually have a kettlebell already and had taught myself the swing at home - turns out I'd learned it right. One fitness point for me! That being said, my kettlebell is 3kg. The recommended weight for a woman is 16kg . . . but because we were beginners they gave us 8kg. Which was hard enough.

 Then we turned our attention to box jumps. Which is jumping onto a box from a standing position. I wasn't jumping onto anything very high but it was still waaayyy harder than it looked. I then turned around to see a guy jump a ridiculous height from a standing position. Was he superman? Or a flea? Superflea?

The other thing on the agenda was MEANT to be hanging from a bar and trying to reach your toes up to the bar. The dudes in charge made it look easy. It wasn't. There were variations on this, but after trying to hang from the bar and pull my legs up and lasting about five seconds, I opted for more of a sit-up on the floor as a beginners alternative version. Because I really DIDN'T want to die.

So basically we had to do a series of reps including the box jumps, "touching your toes to the bar" and kettlebell swings and repeat - as many as possible for 10 minutes. The ten minutes actually went surprisingly fast and, although tired at the end, I didn't feel too exhausted or anywhere near as bad as I thought. (Let's pretend this is because I'm really REALLY fit and not because I wasn't doing the hard exercise everyone else was doing, okay??? OKAY???)

I actually thought the sit-ups and the burpees at the end would be the easy part. Turned out they were the worst. By the end of that, I thought I might actually die. Mainly because the burpees were far harder than the way I'd ever been taught them in pole fitness or by Hannah Waterman. Even the sit ups were a total challenge the way we needed to do them.

I am fairly sure I'll be in agony tomorrow - and I have my first pole fitness class in three weeks to contend with so this should be interesting . . .

I actually can see why people enjoy CrossFit though if their classes are anything like the one I attended - there was a really friendly atmosphere, people were encouraging each other, and challenging themselves to beat their own times/amounts of reps etc. And because the workout changes everyday, it means it's a bit less monotonous than the treadmill. If I wasn't already spending money on a gym and on pole fitness, I might even consider joining at some point. As it is at the moment I'm not in any position to do so since it looks like I'm now going to have to move flat sooner than I thought. But I would definitely like to try it again in the future!

And I'm still alive, which is always a bonus.

Shame about all the other shit in my life but at least I enjoyed tonight!

Thanks to Colette for taking us along!

Sunday, 21 April 2013

LONELY . . .

I've been feeling really out of sorts since I got back my holiday and I've not quite been able to put my finger on it. I put it down to post holiday blues, or the fact I'm dreading going back to work.

But I feel like it's more than that. I've had a shitty few months, certainly March was absolutely fucking horrendous. The days leading up to my holiday weren't much better either. But I think coming back on Thursday evening to this flat was the straw that broke the camels back.

My sister had her husband to go back to. I had no one.

So that's what it is. I'm lonely.

I'm sure it will pass. It usually does. I go through phases, and I've never been good at dealing with the inevitable comedown after returning from a trip away anyway. At least I don't cry about that part anymore like I used to do when I was a kid. (God, I was pathetic.)

Hopefully the return to routine won't be as bad as I thought, I'll get back to my health kick (as long as I don't die during my crossfit class on Tuesday, that is!), the summer is nearly here (there's sunshine coming through my window as I type so that's optimistic at any rate) and my mood always lightens with the weather.

And before long I'll forget the loneliness and be self-sufficient and back to my old self.

(The fact that I've decided another extended break off alcohol would be a good idea is probably also going to help.)

I've got plans. My body to work on. (Man, does it require a LOT of work!) I need to sort out flat stuff, start getting rid of stuff (as it seems certain I'm moving, whether it's into the ex's flat if/when he moves, or elsewhere - in which case I'll be having to flat-hunt too - eek!), work out ways of making some extra money . . . I'll have other things on my mind.

So why, right now, do I feel like I'm missing out?

Excuse the self-pitying post, I need to indulge myself once in a while . . . and I almost instantly feel a bit better getting it out there.

Don't worry, sarcasm and ranting will return as per regular schedule shortly. Nothing can usually keep me down for long.


On Friday evening I sat with my pjs on and a glass of cava (or eight) in my hand, drinking away my post holiday blues, wishing I was still in Lanzarote, dreading going back to work, and thinking about my plan to get fit.

I never got the bikini body I hoped to get for going away. I was pretty good for going to the gym for the last month before I went on holiday. Unfortunately other things conspired against me... such as my love of cheese and eating it, which got extra out of hand due to me discovering Boursin and using it in everything savoury I ate. So I went away still feeling flabby and blah.... luckily when I've got my middle section covered up though I can cover that up. As my friend Mich announced on twitter yesterday . . .
I can't deny it was a massive compliment.... especially when Ferry Guy weighed in to confirm that my tits were indeed spectacular. Given I've had fuck all action in the last few months, and after everything that has went on in recent weeks job-wise, am feeling really fucking shit about myself.... that was kinda what I needed to hear.

Anyway . . . when I was drunk last night one of my twitter (and now real life) friends encouraged me to come to a free session at her crossfit gym. And I'm going to do it. On Tuesday. Because it's free. And because I don't really understand what it is. And i'm fucking curious.

I won't lie though. I'm also terrified. I'm not very fit. I walk a hell of a lot, a round trip of approximately five miles per day during the week, and quite often at the weekend too, due to my loathing of public transport, and that keeps me RELATIVELY in shape. But crossfit? Despite me not really knowing what it is.... it seems like a whole new ballgame, and one which I'm likely to fail in. I went to the gym for the first time in two weeks on Friday and I seriously struggled. How can I possibly do crossfit??? But I've committed to doing this session on Tuesday. So I'm scared shitless, but I'm doing it all the same. And, don't you fear, if I survive it (because I'm already fairly convinced I may die), I will tell you all about it. Or warn you. (Same thing, right?) Wish me luck!

Have you tried crossfit or want to try it? Will I die? Please share!

Tuesday, 9 April 2013


So after my previous post, a little opportunity has potentially came up . . .

I may have a flat lined up to move into in late July/early August.

Obviously this is depending on going to view it and liking it, but it's in an area I would be happy with, it's still within walking distance of town and work (a necessity since if I'm paying more money I'm not going to want to be forking out even MORE on public transport), it's a third floor flat so pretty secure . . . and it's been endorsed to me as a nice little place to live.

All sounds good doesn't it?

There's only one thing . . . and I don't know if this is weird or not.

But if I do ultimately like it and move in . . . it's because my ex boyfriend is moving out of it.

I gave this some thought because I could understand why people would maybe think it was weird. But it's not really surely? I told my sister and she said "he's not going to still be living there, is he?"

Obviously not!

For me though, I think it would be ideal. It's the timeframe I'd want to move out in since I have to like, you know, GUT ALL OF MY BELONGINGS AND GET SOME SAVINGS TOGETHER. (Aye, nae bother with all that, right???) Like I said, it's in an area I was already looking. The price is reasonable. It would save me having to hunt for a flat, which seems to be (from what I have garnered) trawling the internet for bargains and either phoning up to find the flat has already been taken, or turning up to find that the "bijou little apartment" is actually the size of a cupboard (Not that anything is described as "bijou" in Glasgow, you understand.) I've not did any flathunting for nearly ten years, so I think I would find that a struggle.

If anything, if this DOES work out and I do end up getting this flat . . . it means that for once a broken down relationship actually HAS had a silver lining after all.

We'll see what happens anyway.

Either way, I keep having little moments of daydreams where I finally have my own place and it's always such a lovely little daydream. One way or another, this IS going to happen.

I'm going to FINALLY be a proper grown-up.

Or something CLOSE to one anyway . . .

What's your opinion though? I'm curious. Do YOU think it's weird?

Thursday, 4 April 2013


I feel like 2013 has been a year of stagnating on my part, so far. I'm stagnating in my job, the way I want my body to be (despite spending a lot of time - by my standards anyway! - in the gym this past month . . . and most of all with my living situation.

Come July of this year, I will have been living in this flatshare for 10 years. And, okay, I love my massive room, I love the location . . . but I had been telling myself since my NINE year anniversary that I would celebrate my tenth anniversary by moving out into my own place. I'm 33 (and a half as of today!) years old and it's about time I grew up and lived on my own - like I've always wanted to do. Last year, I gave myself the deadline of the ten year mark to have saved some money and gutted my belongings to prepare myself for a move.

And then I didn't do it. As per usual. I procrastinated, put it off . . . and decided it was fine, I could stand another year here.

Then on Tuesday . . . my landlord called me. He basically said he'd been putting this off as long as he could but he could potentially have a better business if he got six people in together on a contract than six individuals such as us. He wanted to know what my situation was, what I was planning to do . . . and he said he had a basement flat also in the west end that I could potentially move into. Not that much more money per month (apart from council tax not being included) and it wouldn't need to be for a few months. I was excited after the initial shock. The idea of living on my own for the first time, the fact I would have the same landlord, the idea of a basement flat (I find something strangely romantic about them) . . . this seemed to be the push I needed.

Over the next two days I thought a lot about how great it would be to live alone, in this basement flat. No one to avoid talking to when I was feeling a bit shit and anti-social, no one to blame mess for, buying things like toilet roll and bin bags solely for my own purpose (and guests I suppose - I'm not going to invite them over and make them bring their own bog roll! I mean, that's just weird.) Being able to have people over for dinner and sit in the kitchen, being able to cook whenever I liked, not having other people in the loo when I wanted to use it . . . It would be perfect.

Today I discovered the person living in the flat isn't moving out after all. Selfish bastard.

My landlord says he's just going to leave the flat situation as is for the next year. But the wheels have started revolving in my brain now and I'm actually DYING to get my own flat.  And I'm worried that I'm the one he is keeping the flat situation the same for also. And I'm going to have to move out in the next year at any rate from the looks of it.

So I'm pretty much decided that I'm going to do it. It won't be as easy as the move to the basement flat would have been . . . but I think this is something I need to do. There will be more money involved, that's for sure - I'm paying less than 400 quid a month at the moment and that includes EVERYTHING - but I'm hoping it will be worth it to live on my own.

It's going to take a few months, the gutting of my things that I previously mentioned will still have to be done . . . there's no time to sort out the savings situation with a holiday next week that I haven't even PAID for yet (I'm really hoping my family can lend me deposit money when the time comes) . . . but I think 2013 is going to be the year that P actually tries to be a grown-up!

Should I do this??? And, if so, do you have any advice for me about looking for flats, renting etc? I'm gonna need all the help I can get . . .