An apology from the lap of a wise man in the guise of a girl

It has been a scarily long three weeks since I last wrote to you all on here. A fabulous, but exhausting and busy three weeks which soon, I promise I shall share with you.

But just not today.

Today, all I will say is a meek sorry to you all. I hope I haven’t annoyed any of you into a grumpy state of ignoring me, but to be honest, I wouldn’t blame you. I have not been the most consistent blogger! As all of those wise men that live in temples in the midst of beautiful jungles preach to us: Each day is a New Day, so make of it what you will. (Ok, so they may not say those exact words. But they should. They’re good, solid words.)

So on this New Day, I have decided to reach out to old friends and familiar writers in order to wrap up a story I was sharing with you all: the journey of the NYPG (or, for those of you who don’t know a jot about it, my New York Plan of Greatness).

Why today? I hear you ask. Why now?

Well, my lovelies, that would be because I fly out to the Big Apple TOMORROW MORNING!!


(Excitement boxed away and put to one side for a second.)

The last time I wrote about the NYPG, I wasn’t entirely sure how much weight I had lost, if any at all. I was busy feeling good and happy and wonderfully, entirely me.

NOW, however, I can happily tell you all that in the last month and a half since I started, I have lost a neat 9 pounds and am a very happy chappy. Before and after photos to follow, when I have a picture of the whole of me and not just my grinning face!


Here I am, being all happy!

It’s been a month of three mile hikes to work every morning, sandwiches for a brief lunch and then slimming down the portions of meals in the evenings. It’s been a month of scurrying around after little children, arguing with angry parents (professionally), and lugging boxes out of storerooms. It’s been a month of LIVING, without paying any real attention to food, and as a result, realising that I don’t need it as much as I used to think I did.

The whole point of this was for me to feel more confident on my trip to America. It was all to make me feel Great for New York and walk along the pavements of a new city with a different swagger in my step and glint in my eye. And when I look at myself now, I am starting to see it. I’m feeling my chin raised higher as I head down the road; I’m noticing what I wear and paying attention to what I look like; I’m making effort with myself and other people when I didn’t have the energy or drive to do so before.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is…the NYPG was a success, to a point. I don’t feel quite done with it yet, but I do feel like that’s ok. I have time. I have buckets of time and there’s no rush because I’ve done what I set out to do. I may not look as great as I had planned, but boy, do I FEEL it.

I have so many adventures coming up and so many things I have done recently to share with you all and I can’t wait. It’s going to be fantastic. You’re just going to have to bear with me and wait a little bit longer.

I’ll be back in a week. I’m heading to the States to try my hand at being Great in New York.

(Excitement unleashed.)


To being human in all our Un-Glory

I am typing this (slowly) on a kindle in the warmth of a cosy b&b to share a quick message with you all, a sort of human triumph if you will.

Tonight, me and le man were sipping wine in a pub, talking about Us and Life and the mega cute babies in the corner, when he raised his glass to make a toast.

What he said would make some people cringe, or roll their eyes at in a ‘well DUH’ kind of way, but it made me smile.

This holiday has presented us with some rather harsh realities of existence, as holidays always do with most people. It seems ironic that we all run away from the comfort of our homes to a strange place in order to rekindle fun or romance…and yet when there, the space you’re now occupying is MUCH smaller. Like tiny small. Like wow this is a lot of flesh in one space kind of small.

Just because you want romance doesn’t mean feet don’t stink after a three hour hike. Just because you’re in a posh restaurant doesn’t mean you’re not going to burp. Just because someone’s listening through the frighteningly thin walls doesn’t mean you aren’t going to *whispers* go to the toilet. Cue bashful giggle.

We don’t become these romantic film stars on a set of perfection, just because we’re on holiday.

Which is why when le man raised his glass and said ‘Here’s to being human!’ I smiled.

Because it turns out love does conquer all. Even the unfortunate, occasionally embarrassing trait of humanity.

Builders, Morning Treks, and Upcoming Photos of Wind Swept Hair

Hey ‘Podders!

It has been a while since I’ve shared with you my NYPG (New York Plan of Greatness) experience, for which I have no real excuse.

Well, ok, I have one. I do now have a full time job that is slowly sapping all the life energy from my veins and making it difficult to do anything other than work and sleep…but I’ve been told you get used to it. In time.

Wish time would hurry up and get on with it in this case.

I’m missing blogging so much! It’s not been until these past few days that I’ve had a chance to actually sit down and type to you all. I have a short break away from work so as to move out of my uni house and spend a few days at the British coast somewhere, and have found myself drawn to the computer at every spare second I have, reading blogs, catching up with my regular readers, drafting ideas. In fact, I have so many ideas I want to share with you all that I keep forgetting them – they slip right out of my brain the moment I try to recall them, like soap through slimy fingers.

So, thousands of fantastical ideas or not, I thought that for today at least I should stick to schedule and do my NYPG themed Monday. Fantastical may come in short bursts over the next few days. Maybe. I make no promises. I am a girl headed for a very rain soaked, wind swept, British beach holiday.

Source: DailyMail

Source: DailyMail

* * *

Last time I wrote to you all, it was mainly about my belly. And it’s total lack of shrinking. I talked to you about stamina and have mentioned in previous posts how important motivation is (hence the name of the plan – the word ‘diet’ is forbidden here).

Today though, I want to talk to you all about activity.

EURGH. I know. But bear with me.

I am a girl who loves to get up and shake her booty in a zumba class. I love to go swimming, or at least sit peacefully in water and poke my tongue out at annoying children when their parents aren’t looking. I love cycling, as long as it’s not up any hills. I love all of this, but if I had the choice, I would rather stay inside with a good movie and snuggle up with my man.

Not the best quality in a gal who’s trying to shift some tummy.

However, since starting my new job, I’ve combined the two most perfect traits of laziness and exercise. As oxymoron-ish as that sounds, it is possible.

I work about 3 miles away from where I live, and for the first few days of working there, I did get a bus. It didn’t take long for me to realise the foolishness of this plan. The bus got me in nearly an hour early for my shift. It cost me £3.10 every day. That’s an average of £15.50 a WEEK on travel and I’m not exactly earning a massive wage.

So, one morning, I walked. It was a long walk, took me nearly an hour, but it wasn’t impossible. I saved money that day and enjoyed the cool morning air, and waved at some jolly builders. The walk put a smile on my face. I felt so gooooood.

That first day of walking, I still got in early. I had over estimated how long it would take me. Day Two of walking, however, I had calculated that by walking in, I could spend an extra 45 minutes asleep in the blissful comfort of my bed.

Sold. No more buses for me if it means an extra bit of sleep. That’s just common sense, isn’t it?

After two weeks of walking 3 miles every morning, I’ve noticed changes. Le man works in the same place as me and he’s lost 3 pounds. We simply don’t have the time to eat when we’re working 9-6pm every day.

And simply noticing changes is starting to physically make changes to me, too.

I’m wearing nicer clothes, parading around in a nice bra with no qualms, I’m more chatty and bubbly with my family even after a long day. It doesn’t sound like much, but aren’t all of these the things we’re really truly searching for when we’re trying to improve ourselves? Aren’t we really just looking for that bit of confidence and self acceptance?

Right now I can’t tell you how many pounds I’ve lost, if any at all. But I can tell you something else just as concrete.

I’ve lost a bit of that tummy shame. I’m embracing my reflection. I’m a tiny bit more me.

Which if you ask me, is worth more than a number on some weighing scales.

*Cue the music* : 'Lady in red...'

*Cue the music* :
‘Lady in red…’

To my Mini-Me

Do you remember when we were little? You used to copy EVERYTHING I did or mimic EVERYTHING I wore.

I was so mad that day you came home with an identical haircut to mine. I raged when you simply had to build your Polly Pocket city on the exact same rug that I was building mine on. I walked away from you when you announced that your tummy hurt, too, and you also needed the day off school.

You were my Mini-Me: wearing my suit, with my shiny bald crown, putting my pinky finger up to your lips and staring at the camera in that just-so way.


Now though, EVERYTHING has changed.

You cut off all your hair and are absolutely rocking the pixie cut look. You are searching for your own style in practically every shop that we pass. Little sayings and quirks are slipping in to the way you speak. The heels you’re wearing are making you taller than me; the dresses skimpier than I would ever dare.

But more than all of that combined, I suppose, is that in this past year you have found that elusive thing: Real Love. With a Real Boy. And he has guided you, hand in hand, towards the future – the one meant for you and only you.


I am so proud of you. I am proud that I can call you my baby sister.

It’s strange watching you come into your own. There are twists to your character that I wasn’t expecting as we grew up together. And I love EVERY SINGLE surprise you present us all with, because every one of them is so utterly and singularly YOU.

I guess what I’m trying to say is never stop being you. You’re far too exceptional for the world to miss out on.

You’re not my Mini-Me any more, but that’s ok. Because as you shed my suit, grow some hair, and stop using your pinky finger in gestures, you become MORE every day.

You become YOU.

And the You you are today is one year older, one year wiser, one year more beautiful.

Happy 18th Birthday, little one.

From your Dr. Evil.