2010

Never has a year flown by as quickly as 2010 seemed too. I still partially believe that I must have passed out for 6 months of it as it seems the only explanation for the sheer speed with which it passed. Still it was an excellent year. In fact I would maybe even put it down as one of my best years. Here are some of the things I’m very thankful for in 2010.

In no particular order:

• Family – 2010 was a great year for my family as my sister finally got her finger out and got married to her lovely boyfriend of God knows how many years.

• Friends – It was the year I turned 30 and some of my best friends were with me to celebrate/commiserate. I had an absolutely superb night. 2010 also saw Miss Rainy finally make her way to the land of leeks! A feat which may in fact be repeated again in 2011!

• My Husband – I’m not going to get too sloppy here as I don’t really do that but for Christmas 2010 my husband gave me a printed copy of a story he used to tell me on the phone during our long distance relationship days . The work that went into is incredible and I love it. It’s perfect.

• Work – One of my jobs I adore. I have quite possibly the best set of colleagues I’ve ever worked with and I actually like what we do. I’m very grateful for the role but alas it comes to an end soon. The other job is not so good. While the organisation I work with does great work, my actual day to day working life is dull to say the least. Still, I’m thankful I have work at all!

• Music – I’ve attended some great concerts in 2010 the highlight of which was 30 Seconds To Mars (possibly the best concert I’ve ever been too) with the super hot Jared Leto. Another highlight, although somewhat different, was Tim Minchin with an orchestra at the CIA in December. I laughed, cried and laughed again. More fab concerts are already lined up for 2011!

• Holiday - I had a weekend away with friends in 2010 which in itself may not seem like much but when you factor in that, apart from visiting family, I haven’t had a holiday in 6 years, you’ll understand why it’s a highlight.

• Acceptance - I’m a very positive person generally but my god can I be negative about myself sometimes. 2010 was the year I think I finally learnt to accept myself and not be so flipping self conscious all the time. I thank, age, wisdom and burlesque for that! I’m still overly self conscious but hey, it’s a start!

• Ophelia Nightly – 2010 was the year I started slinking and strutting by joining a Burlesque class. It’s been hugely enjoyable, rather educational and it’s increased my confidence phenomenally. I really hope to continue in 2011. I don’t think I can stress enough how much more confidence it has given me and I’m so grateful for that.

• True Blood – It’s now an undeniable truth that I am obsessed with True Blood. It’s funny, sexy and gory. What else do you want? 2010 was the year Eric Northman got HOT and Jason Stackhouse joined the ‘Light Of Day Institute’. What followed made for some of the most enjoyable TV I’ve ever seen. If you’re not already, be smart and go watch.

• Blu-Ray - Thank you 2010 for True Blood in blu-ray. More specifically thank you for giving me Eric Northman, Jason Stackhouse, Sam Merlotte & Eggs in 42inch glorious high definition! Praise the Lord!

• Dry Shampoo – I’m finally free from the constraints of washing, drying and then straightening my hair every single flipping day of my life thanks to this little miracle.

• Spontaneity – 2010 has been full of spontaneous acts (either by me or others) which made it unpredictable and hugely enjoyable.

• My Blog – In January 2010 I started my blog. While I may be a little erratic with my updates I have tried to keep in updated reasonably regularly. I don’t know if anyone actually reads it & enjoys it but I enjoy writing it (and it gives me something to do!).

All in all it’s been a great, fun year and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that 2011 will continue in a similar vein.

Snow Don't You Know?

We’ll here in the UK we’ve been hit with some pretty bad snow in the past week or so. While not unusual it is relatively rare for us to have this much snow so early in the Winter.

On the whole I’ve loved it. From frolicking in the snow building snowmen, stroking reindeer and weak snowball throwing I’ve been having a great time. Unfortunately this morning was a different story.

My snowman!

Anyone that knows me well will know I have difficulty keeping upright at the best of times but my walk to work this morning (in wellies no less!) was fairly hairy! All that beautiful, fluffy, powdery snow has turned into thick, hard, slippery ice! A lot less fun for me and my rather inept feet!

While clawing onto my husband I was relatively safe but the second I was let loose by myself it was a different story. I managed it though. So far, no falling. I think that’s a big tick for me.

When I eventually got to work I found that only 2 other people had bothered and one of them, who lives closer than I do, left after an hour because 'it was looking bad out there’. So really, what was all that effort for? I waddled my way into town and through the rather deadly streets to sit in work and do sod all. Great.

Another reason why I don’t love the snow right now is because my husband and I are supposed to be flying home to Ireland for Christmas. I'm trying to remain positive but my God it's difficult when you're surrounded by doomsayers. All I've been listening to for the past few days is 'i'd prepare yourself for the worst love'. Why thank you, and a Merry Christmas to you as well! Still, screw them, I'm trying to keep upbeat. I believe I will make it home and if there's any justice in the world, when it comes time for my flight home, we'll have a big dump of snow and I'll be stranded in Ireland for a week or two. That would be perfect.

Could It Be Magic?

I believe I have reasonable taste in music. Mine is a fairly eclectic collection (isn't everybody's?) but I've managed to spend most of my life without falling for allure of 'chart music'. However suddenly i'm starting to feel the call of none other that the popiest of pop music, my teenage nemesis, boy band music! Yes, I'm starting to REALLY like Take That!

During my teenage years Take That started their reign over my peers and I scoffed every single one of them for their shameful taste in music. Boy band?! Pah, how could anyone find that remotely appealing. They looked like ken dolls and had about as much charisma as Ken too in my opinion. Needless to say there were no Mark or Robbie posters on my walls, I didn't have a stash of Smash Hits piled up in the corner of my room and I didn't know the dance moves to Could It Be Magic. Then, long overdue in my opinion, Take That disappeared into the ether and my friends returned to normal.

Now many years later the boys are back. I balked at their return and proclaimed it would be a disaster. If they where crap first time around, how bad would be this time?!

However it seems I may have spoken a little too soon as I'm growing rather fond of the boys! I still find the lot of them as appealing as Mr Bean but the music seems pretty good this time around! Maybe I'm mellowing in my old age or maybe, just maybe, they've got their act together.

I'm truly loving the new song 'Flood' and I can't even hear 5 seconds of 'Rule The World' without wanting to stick the movie Stardust on (which the song is the theme too). Incidentally, Stardust as a movie is not bad wee film, however it's not exceptional either, yet somehow every time I hear that song it makes me think it's the best movie in the world and I must watch it. Inevitably, when I do finally submit and watch it, I'm always disappointed!

Anyway I've tried to cure myself of this new affliction but I just can't. I've recently been catching myself singing along to not only the new songs but the crap old ones as well! Is this a consequence of my getting older, am I just a sick sick person or have I been put under some sinister spell by the not so fab five?! I'd really love to know.

The Devil In Me

A couple of weeks ago I had my first ice hockey experience. Cardiff Devils v the Belfast Giants. In fact, not only was it my first time at an ice hockey game it was my first ever live sporting event. That is, unless school sports days count?

I quickly discovered that ice hockey is fast, violent and much to my amazement, sexy!

Men, hitting other men with sticks, windows and pucks. It’s an awesome thing to watch. Seriously, every time a player smashed into the glass it was oddly and unexpectedly, exhilarating. Go figure!

The players are, naturally, all bound up but peeling all that bulk away in my mind I managed to convince myself that they were all beautiful Adonis types under their padding. They are men, big hulking, bonafide men and they were beating the crap out of each other. Wow!

My equally hormonal friend Clare had the same experience although she did put a good game face on when her lovely boyfriend almost caught us rating the players as they came up on the monitors. Oops! And if he’s reading this, just ignore this paragraph ok?

Our fabulous experience was topped off by my hubby being hit by a puck (a good thing in icehockey apparently and rare it seems!) and randomly winning a pizza from the gropey, Cardiff Devils mascot, ‘Lucy fur’, which we ate during the game!

Not only have I already booked for my next game but I’m actively encouraging my husband to take up ice hockey (or at the very least buy the outfit ;-).

Is all sport such a turn on or is it simply that potent mix of ice and passion that makes ice hockey so damn hot?!

The Big Bad 30!

Well a couple of weeks ago I had the rather daunting experience of turning 30. Needless to say I had been dreading this for sometime. I’m not exactly sure why but I guess 30 to me meant grown up. 30 year olds are fully-fledged adults and I don’t feel my life is that of a fully-fledged adult at all! Sure I’ve got the husband and the mortgage but I have very little responsibility, no children (or pets either) and no great career path. In fact I live in a flat with my hubby and have 2 temporary jobs! Not exactly what I pictured my life to be at 30 years old.

I’m not saying I’m disappointed.  In fact it’s the opposite.  I honestly don’t think I would change a thing in my life (except for 1 of my current jobs that is!).  Life has been very good to me.  I love my husband deeply and we may as well still be newlyweds despite 6 years marriage behind us.  My flat is awesome and the perfect base for my life and no responsibilities means I can do pretty much whatever I want when I want, and I do!  We don’t have a lot of money but the lack of kids and cars etc. means that the little we do have can be used for pure indulgence.  Not bad eh?

The night of my birthday itself was amazing.  Utterly fantastic friends joined me for a meal and some pretty amazing karaoke antics before hitting (literally, my husband is still bruised) the deserted dance floor.  My Mum also came over for a visit and we had an amazing few days. A great great birthday. My house is still brimming with flowers from friends and family and I got some really amazing presents.  Thank you for making it so special.

Since then I’ve also experienced my first ice hockey match (which I’m sure I’ll blog about), had latin ballroom dance classes and some sing a long fun at the cinema.  So not the grown up life I’d expected at all.

A few of my friends are approaching the same birthday with as much horror as I was.  But just let me reassure you, it’s not so bad after all. 

I know I’m going to have to face the adult world eventually but I’m hoping it will hold out now until my 40^th!  That gives me 10 more years of random hobbies.  Bring it on . . .

That's Christmas Sorted Then

There's few things I like more than browsing the net for random purchases for people.  With Christmas coming up i'm able to indulge in quirky browsing til my hearts content. 

Today however i've found the perfect, discreet gift for any curry lovers out there.  I hope you like it as much as I do . . .

Soothing & Moisturising Wet Wipe Toilet Tissues

I found them here.  Go on, show someone you care.

Movember - A Close Encounter

Well it’s officially November and with that begins the annual event of many men growing moustaches for charity. ‘Movember’ as it’s been dubbed means that the men involved don’t shave for the whole month, producing a surge of fine, rugged, men with facial hair roaming the streets in aid of charity.

Now that’s great. I’m all for charity. However when my husband approached me with the idea that he would join his moustachioed comrades in this endeavour I was very reluctant indeed.

It’s not that I’m opposed to facial hair. It’s just that as I turn 30 in the next few days I know that there will be a lot of photographic evidence of this horrific event. Shallow perhaps but I’m afraid I would rather my husband didn’t look like Tom Selleck in the photos.

However not one to be deterred he pressed his right to sport some facial hair. After some discussion we’ve come to a compromise. He’s going to not shave until my birthday then I can decide if it’s photographically acceptable. If not I’m afraid he has to shave it off and start from scratch (pun very much intended) the following day. I think that’s fair. After all, it’s my party and I’ll ban lip fuzz if I want too.

Men (or Women of a certain ilk) if this has intrigued you and you too want to take part then check out the website. It’s quite cool actually - Official Movember Website .

When Love Notes Go Horribly Wrong

My Husband will testify I’m sure, I’m not a very romantic person. I’m a very loving person but I’m a bit too practical minded for most romantic displays. That being said I do have my moments although they don’t always go according to plan as my last attempt at romance will demonstrate.

A couple of days ago I was up & about rather earlier and decided I would surprise my hubby with a little love note. Keeping it simple I thought I would merely hide ‘I love you’ in a little note where he would find it. Simple, sweet and thoughtful no? Then I decided to get creative . . .

Ever faithful to his morning routine I decided to leave the notes in the cereal, milk top and sugar which he would inevitably use, in that order, to make his breakfast. Oh and while I was at it, I decide to draw an eye for ‘I’ and a heart for ‘Love’. Clichéd but hey, I don’t do this often.

So with my plan in play my husband got up and inevitably reached for his box of cereal. Still groggy and bemoaning the fact he had to get out of a bed a folded piece of paper fell into his bowl. He picked it up, opened it up and found . . . . An eye! A drawing of a big staring eyeball!

Needless to say he was not only confused but a little bit scared by this discovery:

“What the hell is this? Is this supposed to mean you’re watching me or something? Why would you put an eye in the cereal? Are you ok?”

It seems I hadn’t quite thought this love note thing through. Apparently saying ‘I love you’ to someone is a very different thing to putting a crude drawing of an eyeball into their cereal. Take heed people!

I at this stage was on the floor convulsing with laughter but my husband was still, naturally, concerned. I did manage to get my message across ultimately but I think it might be sometime before I try the love note thing again!

The Long & Short Of It

According to the rather amusing TV show Better of Ted, being female, “ . . .Isn’t just about the genitals.  It’s a lifestyle”.   Now I’ve bemoaned the chores of being a woman on here before, from waxing to plucking and all the other tortures in-between I thought I’d experienced the worst of what the female pampering regime could throw at me.  That was until I entered the world of false nails.

In a rather foolhardy attempt to make ourselves presentable at my sister’s wedding my Mother and I thought we’d spruce up our nails by buying some falsies. As I’m not used to having nails (I was a biter!) I opted for some shortish ones. After all, I wouldn’t want to put someone’s eye out.

With a glass of wine in one hand and my very patient Aunt prepping the other we set about beautifying our nails. And beautiful they were. Red, sexy, and tapered. They looked great. I was so chuffed. Truly they were a thing of beauty. Then I had to pee . . .

Now you’d think I would have realised that gluing several centimetres of plastic onto my nails would make life somewhat difficult, after all, this extension has no feeling, no spatial awareness and as I found out, absolutely no respect for the human body.

I quickly learnt to be wary of my new nails and I thought I was adapting well. I went to bed full of hope that I’d be fully used to them in the morning. However after almost gouging my husband and myself several times during the night not to mention getting the flipping things trapped in sheets every 5 minutes I decided that this maybe wasn’t for me and I would take them off.

I went to share this plan with my mother only to find her prising her own nails off with a file. It would seem I wasn’t the only one that had been suffering during the night! Together we finally got the things off and were both left with short bloodied stumps. So much for being presentable for the wedding!

I’ve learnt my lesson. I’m obviously not as committed to the feminine ideal as I thought. I draw the line at self-harm. It wasn’t all bad though. I was so ashamed of my brutalised nails at the wedding that I’ve since stopped biting them. While not quite as pristine as my false ones had been they’re more than presentable and more importantly. I haven’t killed anyone with them yet.

If You Go Down To The Woods Today

You're sure of a big surprise on this quiet little country road in Northern Ireland.  However a teddy bears picnic it most definitely isn't:

Scared yet?  If you're still uncertain of what you are seeing then please let me clarify for you:

Yes ladies and gentlemen, it is indeed teddy bears nailed or hung from a tree!  And this isn’t just one tree.  There is a whole line of them:

Bet you’re scared now?

I have to hold my hands up and say that I have never personally been to this road. My father encountered it on his travels and oddly enough, has never gone back. Would you? I can confirm however that this is the creepiest thing I think I’ve ever heard tell off. Lets just pray no one passes along this road with a child in the car! I for one with never get the following image out of my mind:



I used to own a bear just like the big one there.  Thankfully mine is warmly tucked up in the roofspace, hopefully!

A Brief Postcard

 

Well I'm back in Cardiff having returned yesterday from sunny Ireland (yes, Sunny Ireland!).  After a couple of weeks away for my sisters wedding I have finally returned to my wee home and my beloved blog.  I really hope you didn't miss me too much!

I have had a wonderful break seeing my family, friends and celebrating both my sisters marriage & me and my husbands 6th year wedding anniversary.  I'm sure I've managed to get a few blog posts out of the trip as well so that should make up for my lack of posts.  For now though I need to recover, unpack, process and prepare for my return to work.  

Don't you just hate it when reality comes back to smack you in the face?

Funny Graffiti

Forgive the lack of picture but my shame of photographing random billboards while sat on a bus full of strangers kind of scuppered my plan and I ended up with a blurry mess.
The graffiti in question was on a poster for a clothes retailer. The poster reads, rather naffly in my opinion:

“OMG where did you buy that jacket?”

Some Cardiff vandal has added the following amendment in the form of a speech bubble:

“I didn’t. I swapped it for crack”

It made me laugh rather loudly which is another thing that random strangers on a bus find odd!

The Cold Side of Fashion

I'm afraid I've been ill again *cue sympathy*. Struck down with a nasty cold I've been feeling very sorry for myself all week. I’m all better now thankfully but if the coughing and spluttering coming from my husband’s side of the bed last night is any indication, the bug hasn’t finished with us yet.

A cold can be fairly nasty. As well as the usual symptoms (coughing, sneezing and all), I seem to get one other, rather surprising, side effect . . . a serious lack of coordination. Not physical coordination, (that’s poor enough on the best of days so a cold can’t do much harm there) what I’m referring to is fashion sense.

The second my eyes get puffy and my chest tightens any sense of style I have (which I’m not claiming is a lot) goes right out the window. Suddenly I’m skulking around the house in mismatched socks and random items of clothing that I didn’t even know I owned. I believe I must have a Narnia style door hidden in the back of my wardrobe that only becomes available when my nose starts to run and it’s full to the brim with oversized jumpers of varying shades of brown and pyjamas that clearly even the most rabid charity shop would reject.

My poor husband gets home from work to find me passed out in a pile of Kleenex wearing some garish, bally jammie bottoms and some hideous, fuzzy jumper with odd socks barely covering my feet. I don’t remember buying these things, I certainly don’t wear these things so where the hell did they come from and more importantly, precisely how did I manage to secret them from their hiding place and put them on me (almost) while barely conscious?

As I continue to mend these items of clothing seem to disappear back to their hidey-holes only to return when the next cold appears. No amount of cold and flu powders, drink and sweets seem to help. It’s just something I’ve got to live with.

One thing to be grateful for at least is that colds tend to make me feel so sorry for myself I rarely venture out in public while suffering with one, so no one need know my shameful secret! Except of course anyone that reads this blog!

Out of the Mouth of Babes

Well I almost choked on my £4 bottle of wine last night while watching my latest instalment of True Blood.  The very dumb but beautiful Jason Stackhouse came out with this gem:

“It’s funny. I never really thought I was clever enough to get depressed.”

A rather smart comment from such a blonde fellow I think.

Fangtasy Lover

I’m in love. Truly, madly deeply in love. My husband can rest assured that I still love him but he’s also come to accept that sometimes a girl just needs a fantasy guy and boy do I have a fantasy guy. Let me introduce you to Eric Northman:

Eric (Alexander Skarsgard) is a Viking King turned vampire in the True Blood series. Yes that’s right, Northman the Viking and yes he’s a vampire (hey, I never claimed this was sophisticated stuff). You can keep your whining, not to mention celibate, Edward Cullen and the like. I’ve found myself a proper vampire with real bite!

If you haven’t watched True Blood or indeed read the truly appalling Charlaine Harris books, then you’ll have no idea who I’m talking about. I’m sorry for that but seriously, why aren’t you watching? It’s a sexy, gory, very funny show about hot vampires (The books on the other hand, well I’ve already commented on those here)

Of course anyone who knows me well will know that my obsession with the undead started many many years ago. In fact it started long before most of the bloody Twihard fans were even born. When I was just 11 years old I developed the mother of all crushes on this man, Alexander Lucard.

Alexander Lucard ran a global corporation by day and turned into the Prince of Darkness by night. What more could an 11 year old girl want in a crush than international success, billions of pounds, fangs and a cape? Unfortunately this little TV series (rather subtly called ‘Dracula: The Series’) didn’t last too long and I was left to dive into the murky world of vampire literature.

And what murky water it is! There is no lack of reading for anyone interested in vampire tales and mythology but my goodness some of it is truly awful. There are some gems of course but on the whole it’s pretty cringe worthy.

Anyway, back to Eric. Eric didn’t start life as every girls dream. In series 1 of the show he was this tall, gangly drudging fellow. However in series 2 the man positively bloomed and at this stage I’m struggling to watch series 3 without a paramedic standing by. Lets just say the boy got hot!

I would like to able to into a lovely analysis of the appeal of his character but to be fair I’m not that good a writer also, it’s True Blood for goodness sake, how deep can the character be? Instead I’ll leave you with a little taster of the man himself. 

Oh and if vampires aren’t your thing, True Blood has taken that into consideration. It also offers hot shape shifters, wolves and the occasional human.

Where's Welly?

Well I did it.  I told you I would and here's the evidence.  See if you can guess which ones are mine?

How Cute

Moobys

Well it seems Cardiff may be getting a Hooters. For those who aren’t aware ‘Hooters’ is an American chain bar/restaurant where all the waitresses look like playboy bunnies and wear very tight t-shirts over their very large boobies. According to the man behind the bar the orange hot pants and low cut tops are a “wholesome, cheerleader look”. So the scantily clad hostesses aren’t meant to titillate men? Bet you’re disappointed eh? 

To be honest, the bar doesn’t bother me. As an ample bosomed girl I welcome the career opportunity (unfortunately as well as ample bosom I happen to possess ample, arse, thighs & belly so on second though, maybe not for me eh!).

Cardiff as a city already has several strip clubs pole dancing clubs, a topless snooker hall and a club that offers ‘Naked Tuesdays’ for your weeknight entertainment, I don’t think Hooters is going to mean much of a moral decline for the city, it’s just a more commercial venture than most.

There was of course a protest at the prospect of the new bar but as far as I can see it consisted of a couple of ladies and a few men who clearly have never seen boobs in the first place. Harsh of me I know but surely they could see their protest wasn’t going to go too well!

If I don’t object you might be wondering why I’m bothering to blog about it. Well, the reason is simple. During a discussion with some friends about the opening we decided that a female alternative to the bar was in order. If hooters can provide some ‘wholesome’ eye candy for the boys, why can’t we have a ‘wholesome’ bar for the ladies?

The problem is though, what exactly is the female alternative to a titty bar?

Topless men? To be fair, you don’t need to go too far out of your way to see that now do you? I walked past some 17 year old reed this morning with his shirt off despite it being 08.00 in the morning and barely ten degrees.

Tight pants? Well it’s an option but really I think some bloke waltzing around with his bulge on display might put me of my dinner. Besides, Cardiff can be a cold city, have a heart.

Generally good looking men? I’d be up for that but as a general rule; women tend not to eat when attractive men are around so as a business venture it’s probably not the best move. Also as my many previous posts on my flurry of crushes suggests, good looking is a very subjective thing.

I do have a solution in my mind however, how about a bar full of men in suits? I have a weakness for sharply dressed men and if their wearing the right aftershave I might well pay good money to have them wait on me. My friend vetoed this idea so I’m guessing it’s not one for all the ladies.

My husband rather gleefully pointed out that technically the female alternative to Hooters would be men with big moobs in tight t-shirts. Somehow that substitution just doesn’t seem fair! I would like to add that during this discussion my husband also decided that to add to the ‘friendly’ atmosphere of the Hooters brand the ladies should rub your tummy for you once you’ve finished your meal. How sweet!

Well it seems I’m at a loss. The men have their Hooters and us poor women can carry on being served by Joe Blogs in his jeans and scruffy shirt. It’s ok though, Joe’s jeans will undoubtedly show of his cute arse and then there’s that little smile of his. Hmm maybe us girlies aren't as hard done by as it first seems.

Please Sir Can I Have Some Mores

Sometimes you can take etiquette a little too far as this (very funny & very out of context) line from the ‘Thirty Nine Steps’ shows:

"When he came back we dined together, and in com­mon decency I had to let him pump me."

Well as long as it's decent eh?

"Working" 9 - 5

I currently work 2 different jobs for 2 different organisations in 2 different places. There is however 1 big similarity in both these roles which is currently trying my patience. Both of these jobs actually have very little work for me to do!

Some people may think this is a dream situation. To be paid for doing nothing? Surely that’s not something you can complain about? Believe me though; it’s far from ideal.

In 1 of the roles I work particularly long hours and it’s a horrible feeling, to sit down at your desk knowing you have 10more hours to go and approx 1 hours work to occupy you.

I don’t mind a moment’s downtime every so often but the effort required to make yourself ‘look busy’ all day is staggering. The less you have to do the longer the hours last and I arrive home from work feeling completely wiped out and, ironically enough, over worked!

I know in these financially strained times I’m very fortunate to have either job, but really, is it too much to expect a bit of work from my job?

The Great Big Welly Hunt

Well you'll never guess what?  I'm actually going on holiday.  Ok it may only be 2 days in a cottage in the Brecon Beacons but hey, it's a bloody holiday and one that is long overdue.

In case you are wondering why I'm so excited about 2 days away, I have to put it in context.  Apart from long weekends to see my family I haven't had an actual holiday in over 6 years.  Yes that's right . . . SIX YEARS.  Even then that last holiday was with my Hubby (then boyfriend), Mum, Dad, Sister, soon to be brother in law, Granny, Aunt & Cousin.  Now as much as I enjoyed myself and love my family that is not exactly a relaxing romantic retreat.  

This time my husband and I are going away with friends.  So while the romantic retreat idea is off the cards at least there will be wine, food and good company.  I am going to be one happy camper.  Well it might be more accurate to say I am going to be one happy, muddy camper.  You see I'm having a bit of an outdoor dilemma.  It appears that as a *cough* curvaceous *cough* lady I'm not supposed to wear wellington boots. 

While the world is currently awash with funky wellies, wedge wellies, sexy lace up wellies and God knows what else, I can't seem to get a single pair that fit my calves!  My problem is simple.  I have fat legs.  Not freakishly large but certainly dainty calves is not something that my family suffers from so finding wellies is proving impossible.  Surely I'm not the only person in the world to have this problem?  Others must suffer too?  I feel let down by the Outdoor shopping world.  How am I supposed to get active and venture forth if I can't get the footwear to do so?  

The truth of the matter is wellies are only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to activity based clothing.  How are fat people meant to lose weight if we can't get the correct exercise clothing.  I still have nightmarish recollections of trying to find a sports bra to fit my rather ample bosom.  Many shops and £40 later I did manage to find one that wouldn't look out of place on Mrs Doubtfire.  Swimsuits cause a similar problem.  While I can walk into almost any high street shop and find a swimsuit to suit my body, the second my boobs enter the equation, you can forget it!   If I want a swimming costume that will stay on my boobs (which oddly enough, I do) then I have to go to the Bravissimo's and Leia's of the world and give £50 to a manufacturer who has caught on to the fact that women have breasts.  It's shocking how many retailers seem to have forgotten that fact.

Back to wellies though.  I've decided that if they don't make boots to fit me then I'm going to have to do it myself.  I am going to buy the cutest pair I can find and cut them down to ankle wellies.  A stylish choice I think.  Who wants to wear big rubber boots anyway?  I know I'll be happy frolicking around in my rubber booties.  Besides I don't think I can face the humiliation of trying on any more pairs!  

Look out people, rubber booties will be all the rage next year.  You heard it here first!  In the meantime get a look at these . . . .

 

  
Rubber jelly shoes with a heel.  Really?  What occasion could ever warrant these monstrosities.  I'm at a loss!