Resetting the clock

Once again I find myself trying to re-set my body clock. I think my body clock is about as busted as the horrid tacky Olympic clock they have put up in Trafalgar square to count down to the Olympics.

It stopped after barely a day and had to be fixed almost immediately. Wish someone could dismantle and reset my clock would make things so much easier. Or heck I could turn back the clock to before I screwed it up in the first place and actually get some sleep!

Isn't there something we'd all love to turn back the clocks for and do again. Repeat a good experience, correct a bad mistake. I think maybe it's a good thing that we can't really though, through everything we learn and it makes us who we are.

So for now I'm just going to keep powering through until my clock gets back in its normal rhythm, hopefully before Easter so I don't have mum shrieking at me to go to bloody sleep already! but then saying that by that point the clocks will have changed again

Will I ever win??

The toaster hates me

I love toast. Thick cut and smothered in butter all washed down with a cup of tea.

At home me and the toaster have an understanding, I won't overload it with hand sliced (I.e wonky chopped) bread if it doesn't burn my bread or complain when I press it into service all hours of the day and night.

Now here at Uni, the toasters all seem to have issues. We've already had to replace one that took umbridge to cooking crumpets at 4 in the morning. Me and Sam were not amused especially as after that half the grill went on strike, maybe it was a conspiracy against midnight munch?

The new one just seems to have an attitude problem. With Kishan and Sam it has no issue, 'Toast? here you go perfectly brown. Potato waffles? Not a problem, even when you leave them in me to defrost for half an hour before pushing the button'

Maybe I some how unwittingly bought a sexist toaster? I swear when it see's me coming towards it bread in hand, it just puts it's hands on its hips and says 'You want me to what? Cook your poncey granary bread? it's already brown! what do you expect me to do with that?'.

Don't even get me started on it's treatment of my fruit bread, it was black as charcoal. Any day now I expect the toaster to start asking for a pension and an extended warranty before it even thinks about even looking at my bread.

Now a days I've come up with a new tact. Surprise toast! you sneak up behind the toaster and slam dunk your bread and slam the button before the toaster even knows what's hit it.

So far so good, I just hope my manic cackling at getting one over on the toaster doesn't wake up the flat mates.

OK writers block is kicking me in the ass, Poetry time!!!

Ok so it would appear the plot bunnies have decided to build a brick wall in my brain, making it neigh on impossible to write a decent blog post today even after one of Sam's amazing cups of tea.

So instead I'm going to share with you guys some of my poetry :) Most of its terrible but here's a couple of pieces I thought you guys might like.

Food in bed

My love of food

It knows no bounds

Except when I'm in bed

For the crumbs upon my pillow

Won't let me rest my head

My teddy bears

All stand and glare

As my sandwich falls to bits

For lettuce on the bottom sheet

Gets really on my tits

Mayonnaise and ketchup

Dripped upon the duvet

Means stomping to the kitchen

For the wash cloth I may get

So now I sit at the table

And tidily eat my food

For once it's all cleaned up

I can finally snooze

Photography

Click click

The shutter goes snap

The same infernal rhythm

Of light becoming captive

Squashed into form

Forced into a smile

The portraits

Hold prisoners

Dreaming

My heart dreams

Beneath the covers I

Toss and turn

And try to forget

But I fail

I Tell myself to smile

To take each step

And move forward

But in the end

I suffocate beneath the smile

and then once again

I'm dreaming

Ok well hoped you liked them, might post some more in the future, but really I don't write much poetry (probably for the best looking at some of this) but thought it would make a nice change from me embarrassing the flatmates and whining :D

Wobble Women!

Theresa has memories of me and Kat sat around her kitchen table lamenting at the age of 11 that the boob fairy had yet to arrive and probably never would.

By the next summer we were once again sat around the kitchen table, this time whinging that we had boobs at all they are just ‘so damn uncomfortable’.

It would seem you can’t please people either way. Everything is too big or too small, too long or too short. In a society that prizes sleek silhouettes and tiny figures, it seems the smallest amount of excess body fat, can turn many a woman to tears.

I have always been a curvy woman; a love of food has done nothing to sate that fact. It just grates on me that people will judge me by the way I look. Just the other week I nearly decked some guy on the train who was sniggering at me talking to his girlfriend in a loud voice saying ‘That girl’s ass is as big as your bag!’ (the girl was carrying one of those enormous ‘you could practically live in it’ handbags) and it hurt you know.

At secondary school Kat was like a boa constrictor getting in and out of her PE kit without showing any skin in fear of bearing the wrath of ‘The Plastics’. The plastics being our own endearment for the girls who were stick thin, with 6 inches of foundation and always the first to start the criticisms ranging from witticism’s such as

‘who’d you steal your bra off? Your grandma?’ to just loathsome comments such as

‘Aww look at the fat cows in the corner their never going to get boyfriends’.

I think after a few years I just got fed up of it and learnt a new trick. Kat used to call me Flash Gordon as I could be in and out of the changing rooms in about 3 minutes.

The new trick? Just an attitude adjustment. Something along the lines of hang it you hags I don’t care what you see or what you say.

I guess in a way I owe them a thank you, for teaching me that it does nothing to be ashamed of your body, In fact it just weighs you down. I'm not saying I’m perfect far from it, I often have moments thinking what the hell do I look like. Wishing I could change things about the way I look.

But then I remember, women are real, what we see in the papers and films is not what real women look like. Most of the women on the billboards of London look like they need a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea, there’s nothing too them! Now that’s nothing against woman who are naturally built like that (Here’s looking at you Poppy), but most women are just not built like that and it was only about 6 months ago I think when I really realised I wasn't alone.

Whilst googling stuff about body image on the web I came across this most amazing website by an American photographer who goes by the name of Substantia Jones. Her project Adipositivity is all about being positive about being larger (the name coming from the words Adipose meaning of or relating to fat, and positivity). Her photo's of nude larger women made me re-evaluate the way I looked at myself and realised that being larger was absolutely nothing to be ashamed about.

Women have imperfections, women wobble! I know I sure do! And I am proud to say as such! Sure I'm no stick insect, heck I love my food too much to ever maintain being that skinny! But I’m proud of the body God gave me. Sure some people will always sneer, not liking what they see. But surely that shouldn't be my problem.

Some people will turn around at this blog piece and go that’s disgusting, they aren’t looking after themselves, and neither are you! I'm not here advocating obesity the point I’m trying to get across is that we should be proud of our bodies whatever our size or shape.

I come from a family of short curvy women, and chances are that means any daughters I have will most likely inherit those traits. If there’s one gift I could give them those future daughters of mine it would be the power to feel good about themselves.

I mean God doesn’t honestly care how big your ass is or what your hair looks like when you first get out of bed, he made it! He knows it all anyway and he still loves you!

So why are you hating on yourself?….just think about it

For those who want the web address for the website I mentioned it’s http://www.adipositivity.com/

I just find it very encouraging and beautiful, wonderful photography and wonderful women! Fair warning though some of the photo's can be a little racy, but then it is nude photography!

Loser like me

Firstly I totally need to blame Vicky for my Glee obsession (yes it is your fault!), but it would seem that even cheesy, addictive American TV can touch people.

The new glee song Loser like me really shot me back to my time in secondary school. I hated it, loathed every single minute. I was so sick of people getting me down for just being myself.

So what that I:

• Wear glasses
• Am a total book worm
• Sound like a guinea pig when I laugh
• Have boobs bigger than some peoples heads
• Am a happy clappy holy Joe bible basher (aka Christian)

Does any of it really matter?

Honest answer, no. Ok so I suck at sport, have no idea what to do with foundation and have never had sex but I'm the person I am supposed to be and no one and I will repeat that NO ONE is going to keep me down about it.

It really bugs me that I know so many incredible people, who feel totally crap about themselves due to self centred bullies who just get their kicks being horrible to each other.

We should be proud of who we are and not be afraid to flaunt it. Take some of my friends for example. Vicky is probably one of the tallest people I know, ok so finding trousers long enough can be an issue, but she has legs to die for. Kat though seen to most as ‘positively bizarre’ (probably due to our many many laughing fits over such things as llamas) is one of the fastest wise crackers and always knows how to cheer someone up. Alex was always labelled as the ‘nerd’ and people used to be really unkind to him. Yet still he finds time to help others who are struggling with their own work (Lord knows I would never have got my head around Pythagoras without him).

We are all people worth loving warts and all. Brain box, ballerina, footballer, Frankenstein. Heck even maths teachers.

So losers like me, lets not get ourselves down when people get mean, just remember…

YOUR AWESOME!

'I wanna potato Waffle!': the joys of drunken flatmates

Walking into the kitchen last night I was quite surprised to find Sam sprawled across the floor, after giving him a nudge with my foot I ascertained that he was in fact alive. Well judging by the groaning noises anyway.

After a a few more nudges and asking him if he was ok I finally got a vaguely intelligible reply of 'I wanna potato waffle!' After inspecting the toaster it appeared he was already making waffles lol. Best to leave him too it.

I'm really beginning to think this flat floor has a magnetic pull to drunken people. I myself have been passed out in the bathroom carefully looked after by the boys who checked on me and brought me water, and in the corridor leaving the flat mates to wonder if I had dissolved the next morning after I had finally crawled to bed leaving a massive pile of stuff behind me.

Hmm student life seems to have way too much alcohol involved. Seems Kishan is the only one to not have passed out in this flat. Even Jackie has and she doesn't even live here!

Think it's time I go pass out in my bed sooooo tired! Hopefully tonight I wont find Sam on the kitchen floor caus obviosuly its Kishan's turn.

My favourite antisocial behaviour..

Before you all think I'm secretly a granny beater in my spare time, I'm actually talking about reading.

It seems barely a day goes by when I haven't spent part of it with my head in a book. I learned to read age 3 (thanks mum) and I haven't really stopped since.

My book collection is now so big I regularly have book slides. You ever been hit on the head by the full works of Cassandra Clare? Nope didn't think so. It would be a lot easier if my bookshelf here wasn't attached to the joining wall of mine and Kishans room. Every time he hits his wall books go flying.

I think the reason I love reading so much is that it's a form of escapism. When I was in school I used to get bullied so badly, but even on the worst days I could grab a good book. I remember being sat in Winsham primary school hall reading Harry potter and the chamber of secrets whilst bawling my eyes out and eating prawn cocktail crisps.

Some books can mean more than freedom, they can mean life. There's a reason why the bible is the top selling book of all time because it really speaks to people. It can comfort and chastise, encourage and inform. It's the worlds best self help book and the worlds best story book.

When I was little despite the fact my mother was mostly without religious conviction she used to read me bible stories. Moses in the rushes, Jesus and Lazerous. I even had a pop up bible (I soooo wish I still had it) with tabs so you could part the red sea and follow the Christmas star across the page.

I guess one of the reasons I write is to repay the authors that kept me sane. To encourage the next generation the way they encouraged me.

I own I would estimate over 300 books, and hopefully one day my own books will be on the shelf beside them. Now just how to explain to Dad how the amount of books I brought to uni has doubled since September oo er....