So long and thanks for all the confessions...

It's hard to believe that I started this blog all the way back in 2012. For those of you who may remember, those were my good old Ness of Boganville days, before I became all classy and elegant. Shut up. 

I started blogging not knowing what I was doing. Clearly nothing has changed in that regard. I was quite clueless about the whole big blogosphere out there. Then somehow I stumbled upon another blog called My Home Truths by Kirsty Russell. 

Kirsty hosted a link up every Monday called I Must Confess. I began joining in with the confessions most weeks. I must admit, being the kind of ad hoc, lazy, disorganised type of person and blogger that I am, the link up motivated me to keep going and also gave me a prompt to write about it.  So it's thanks to Kirsty that I'm here so many years later still boring entertaining you with my shit wit. Sadly, Kirsty has decided to retire the link up after an amazing five-year run, so today is the very last I Must Confess. Sigh. Sad face. 

Seeing as though it's the last confession, Kirsty has asked us to go out with a bang and reveal our biggest confession EVER.

Look, there are some things that I will never divulge even if you tied me up and tortured me. Well, maybe if the torture was being denied cake, I'd probably give in. But that's just me. 

What I'm getting at is, I don't have any huge, monumental, shocking thing to tell. 

But the link up ending makes me think about my resistance to change.

I must confess I often feel sheepish and redundant. As if everyone else is moving on with their lives: making decisions and doing all the things and all I seem to do is struggle with illness. 

I set up my life in such a way; being a stay at home mother, because I was certain that it was the right thing for me in order to protect my mental and physical health. Being an introvert and also on the spectrum the whole multi-tasking, working, soccer mum thing is overwhelming to me. Then I ended up struggling with anxiety anyway and ultimately getting breast cancer. Yeah, my plan worked out well.  

You can probably hear violin music swelling right about now. I promise I'll only indulge in my pity party for another paragraph (or two) and then mention cake again. Cake fixes everything. 

And here's another thing: sometimes it seems like getting my ASD diagnonsense wasn't exactly what it was cracked up to be. To be blunt it kind of felt like: Yes, you have ASD. FUCK YOU. Apart from understanding myself better, there wasn't much to be gained from it. Five years down the track, I'm still not sure how I feel about it. It's a huge, revealing thing to discover about yourself, but a gigantic yawn to everyone else. Furthermore, it probably just comes across as something to use to make excuses for things. Only others who are also on the spectrum can understand. And even then, all of us are different. 

Anyway, not sure where I'm going with this. I guess I just wanted to have my little whinge. Most likely because I've been through a prolonged period of stress. A breast cancer diagnonsense will do that to you. Funny that. When this happens, you have no choice but to get on with things and do what you have to do to get through treatment. Some months later it hits you and you have all the feels. So I just allow myself to have my sooky la la moments and then snap myself out of it and move on. After all, I saw my doctor last Friday and she was very happy with my outcome. She wants to see me again in twelve months time. Yay! Anyway, enough about that.

Now let's move onto the cake! 

It's been fun making these confessions every Monday. I hope you've enjoyed reading them as much as I've enjoyed writing them. 

Over the years I've revealed so many underwhelming fascinating things: 

From the things I don't get about sport to what's in my handbag, 
to my worst habit. And I'm sure you slept better after reading all of those posts. You're welcome.

Therefore, you'll be pleased to know I'm not going anywhere. I'll still be blogging away about nothing. It's a gift, so I can't waste it. Duh. 

And the other good news is that the I Must Confess community isn't totally kaput. Kirsty also has an amazing Facebook group
where we can all vent our spleen (terrific expression, that), have a little whinge or rant and share our triumphs and joy. The great thing about it is, you don't even have to be a blogger to join in! So pop over and join us here!

Plus, the other great news is there will be a brand new, shiny Monday link-up starting over at  Denyse Whelan Blogs. 
You'll be able to find me joining in the fun over there! 

Finally, thanks a million to Kirsty and I wish her all the great things in moving her blog forward. And now let's have some celebratory cake!  Of course they are virtual cakies, so we have to imagine them or go and buy or bake our own. I think wine is needed as well, even though it's Monday morning. Details! 

And for some reason I feel the need for the final ever I Must Confess to fade out while serenading Kirsty with an 80s power ballad. Because I'm pretty sure that as a dedicated Eurovision fan, she's quite partial to a good old 80s power ballad. Take it away, Taylor Dayne! 

Saying goodbye
Is never an easy thing
But you  never said
You'd stay forever
So if you must go
Well darlin' I'll set you free
But I know in time
We'll be together

I won't try
To stop you now from leaving
'Cause in my heart I know

Love will lead you back
Someday I just know that
Love will lead you back to my arms
Where you belong

I'm sure, sure as stars are shining
One day you will find me again
And it won't be long
One of these days 
Our love will lead you back

One of these nights
I'll hear your voice again
You're gonna say 
How much you miss me
You'll walk out that door
But someday you'll walk back in
Darlin' I know, I know this will be

Sometimes it takes
Some time out on your own now
To find your way back home

Love will lead you back
Someday I just know that
Love will lead you back to my arms
Where you belong

I'm sure, sure as stars are shining
One day you will find me again
And it won't be long
One of these days
Our love will lead you back

Written by Diane Eve Warren • Copyright © RealSongs

What is your biggest confession EVER?

Do you cope with change?

Which 80s power ballad would you serenade Kirsty with? 



Linking up for the last ever I Must Confess. 

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The Month That Was August

Image credit: http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/assessment/2001/07/august.html

Another month has breezed by. Farewell August, you contradictory creature! You provided us with lovely days, then changed your mind and brought out blustery, bitterly cold days. There were days suffused with sunshine, interspersed with days spent with feet and hands like blocks of ice. I'm glad the latter is over. 

Reflecting upon the month of August makes me realise something: I need to get out more. I certainly don't have an action packed schedule to report.

However, one very exciting and fabulous thing happened. I had my tits crushed. Also known as a mammogram. Okay, so that part wasn't exactly fabulous. The results were! It was all completely normal! I am totally cancer free! YAY! Happy dance. 

Image credit: http://www.reactiongifs.com/crazy-dancing/

I reckon the only times I left the house during August were to go to grocery shopping, do the school pick up, go to a Weight Witches meeting or to have my tits crushed. Additionally, I went to the library. I like to be cutting edge.

Oh, and I got jabbed the other day. Meaning I had a blood test. While we're on that subject, it's pretty disconcerting to realise that I'm 45 years old, I've given birth four times and beaten cancer, but I still get freaked out and nervy having a blood test. What the...? Of course this phenomenon is now multiplied by a billion, because I'm even more paranoid about test results now. Brilliant.

The blood test is simply a routine thing to check my cholesterol, thyroid, sugar and hormones. Because I now have menopause thrown into the mix. Fun times. I see my GP next Wednesday to get the results. In the meantime I haven't had any urgent phone calls, so I hope that's a good sign. 

Meanwhile, today I am back to see my specialist/surgeon. My GP already informed me that my mammogram was all good. It's hard to believe that I'm already having my first six-monthly check up since my diagnonsense. So basically that is the highlight of my very ordinary August. 

I also became quite wistful and reflective. On the 24th it was the ninth anniversary of the day I gave birth to my deceased baby boy, Daniel. It's weird. These days I don't always think about him on the exact day, but at other random times. It's been nine years, which seems bizarre. On the one hand it seems like yesterday, but on the other, a billion years ago. So much has happened since then. Anyway, I can think of him with a smile and only a hint of sadness now. I imagine what he might have been like, and wonder if he'd be as cheeky and gorgeous as his brothers. I wonder how he would be different from them, too. My boys are all different. 

Oh yes! I finally got my very own laptop. As a result I think I've blogged a bit more consistently throughout August. Well, for me anyway. I'm always so ad hoc here.  

In other news, I now possess a full head of curly hair. Consequently, I finally understand curly hair problems. Related: I am going to be the whitest woman ever with a 'fro.  Except it doesn't look cool and cutting edge. I just look like a Nanna with a bad perm. Sigh. Well, my GP reckons I have a young face. So ner! A young face with Nanna hair and a double chin. Different. 

What else can I tell you about August? I could report that Weight Witches isn't going well. Oops. In fact, I am going to retire my broomstick. It isn't working out for me. Even though I admit some of it is my own fault due to lack of commitment, it also irks me somewhat that they keep changing it. Just when you have become used to one way, it's all changed. This means you have to purchase a lot of stuff all over again. I find this rather annoying. I don't cope with change. But that's a whole other post. I'm still aware that I need to shift some weight and stay healthy, so I'm going to discuss some other possible options with my GP. Wish me luck! 

So that concludes my rather lacklustre August. But if there's one thing I've learnt in the past year it's this: boring is GOOD.

Bring on a boring September!

And I can't resist going out with yet another happy dance!

Image crhttp://www.reactiongifs.com/seinfeld-happy-dance/edit:

Linking up with Sanch for 

The Month That Was and Grace for FYBF. 

How was your August? Any happy dance worthy moments? 

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Conversation with a wedding dress

If I could talk to my wedding dress I'd sigh and say: "Why don't you fit me anymore?" To which it would reply: "One word: CAKE."

And then I would get quite grumpy and sulky because I don't like to be reminded that it's my own fault I'm a chubster. I prefer to think there was some sort of weird invasion of the body snatchers thing going on. In other words, I'm delusional. 

Of course you have to pretend dresses can talk for this scenario. Perhaps it would be helpful for me if all my clothes COULD talk. They would give me a stern lecture about my love of cakies. Then again, they already do this without the need for words. Every time I try to ease my pants or top over my expanding belly, the warning is whispered. And I ignore it. Because CAKE. Sigh. 

But getting back to my wedding dress. I LOVE my wedding dress. It was a very traditional, prim dress with a high neckline, long sleeves and a train. There were pearl buttons on the sleeves and back. It was ivory, even though it appears to look white in photos. This dress was made for me by my mum from a Vogue pattern. For this reason it's very special to me. Years later, my aunt made a christening gown for my son with remnants from my wedding gown. 

I look back at the woman in the photos and think about how young and naive she was. Fast forward almost 21 years and this dress would look quite ridiculous on me. Especially since I could only wear it on one leg. It's actually a good thing that we can't see into the future. If I had known I what was before me perhaps I would have ran shrieking from the church a la Julia Roberts in Runaway Bride.

No, there's nothing wrong with my marriage. But to say that Mickey Blue Eyes and I have certainly been through the whole 'for better or worse' and 'in sickness and in health' thing would be putting it mildly. I'm still waiting for the richer part of 'for richer or poorer'. Waiting, waiting, waiting...

Anyway, I was going to say that I'm not really sure why I had such traditional ideas about my wedding dress. I think what I wanted was some sort of Anne Of Green Gables theme, like THIS. However, Mickey Blue Eyes might have thought I was nuts and not married me. I waited until after our vows to bring out the crazy. OOPS. Too late! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! 

Here is the exact Vogue pattern that my Mum used. I'm pretty certain it's that one, anyway.

We were married in a church. I'm not sure why I wanted to get married in a church, considering that I never attend church whatsoever.  I didn't even go to church as a child. In fact, I don't even believe in God. Weird.

This was a dress I have only worn once. It would look a bit odd if I wore it to go shopping. Although if it actually fit me, I'd would just BECAUSE I COULD. Not possible.

As well as feeling beautiful in the gown, I felt calm and serene. There were no wedding jitters for me on this day in 1995. Or the 'olden days' as our boys refer to it.

For this post I believe I should let the photos speak for themselves. These two are my favourites because they are just candid and not posed. 

I feel wistful and weird thinking about this dress. Life has been a bit of a struggle in the past year and I suppose I look back at those innocent times with more than a bit of nostalgia. It's hard for me to pinpoint exactly what I want to say.

My wedding dress is still hanging in a wardrobe at my parents house. I haven't looked at it in a long time. Our 21st wedding anniversary is coming up on November 11th. It was such a long time ago. One of my most vivid memories is the priest who married us saying: "You'll look back at photos and think 'we looked pretty good in those days!'" Yep. Even more so, because since I had cancer, my hair grew back strange and curly. I don't look like myself anymore. Sigh. 

It's certainly true that when you're planning a wedding you put a lot of thought and energy into things such as a dress that you will only wear for one day. Poof! The day's over and it's almost 21 years later. 

In the space of that 21 years we've faced infertility (bizarrely), then babies (luckily), the loss of a baby, cancer (both of us have had cancer), the loss of loved ones, and a million other boring and brilliant things. 

I don't have a daughter to give my dress to, and I suppose it's a bit dated now anyway. It was kind of dated even in 1995. 

But I still can't bear to part with it. I'll always love that dress. 

And I simply can't believe that we were not included on this cover:

RUDE! Of course, we're not celebrities. But we look exactly like Brangelina, so same thing really. 

I did mention I was delusional. 

What do you think about wedding dresses? Beautiful or baloney? 



Linking up for Conversations Over Coffee and IBOT. 

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When I'm Sad I...

It happens to everyone. The blues. The 'blahs'. I'm not talking about clinical depression. Just the ordinary ups and downs that everyone has from time to time.

I must confess it's been a bit of a hard old slog for the last year. Cancer and chemotherapy and radiation will do that to a person, strangely enough. I know! I'm supposed to be positive all the time! What am I like? 

When I'm busy being a sooky la la I do the following things:

General moping, pouting and sighing and 'blahing'. Yes, blahing is totally a verb. I do it all the time. Well, not all the time. Just every 28 days or so for a number of years, for some strange reason. 

There is a tendency for me to lose interest in stuff  that I like, such as blogging. It would be preferable if I lost interest in eating. This always seems to happen to characters in books and movies. They go through heartbreak or misfortune and are totally uninterested in food. Never happens to me. Which leads me to my next point...

I eat all my feelings. They taste suspiciously like cake. When they don't taste like cake, they taste like chocolate. Weird. 


As I have mentioned before, I'm not the world's greatest talker. Not even when I'm in a quite jovial mood. I know what you're thinking. But yes, it does happen. Its just that you might not notice due to my resting bitch face. 

So you can imagine my aversion to being verbal when I'm all morose and moody. Therefore if I don't answer the phone, or frantically indicate to Mickey Blue Eyes that I'm not here if he happens to answer the phone, don't take it personally. 

Image credit:https://www.facebook.com/survivingsanity/

All of social media and the entire world seems to be mocking me. The sensible thing to do would be to back away from the internet, but apparently I'm a masochist. 

However, I always manage to get myself out of my little rut. 

Here are some strategies I use:

• Watching stand up comedy on Youtube. 

• Watching my favourite feel good TV shows. I'm partial to a bit of Miranda at the moment. I know she's not everyone's cup of tea, but I quite like the goofiness. SUCH FUN! 

• Listening to music. A lot of people think that most Carpenters music is a bit sappy and miserable: "I'll say goodbye to love, no one ever cared if I should live or die..." and all that. Well, I guess they're right. But I'm weird, so it's still my happy place. Whatever works, I say. 

• Exercise, exercise, exercise! I haven't been as diligent with this one lately. A kick up the arse is desperately needed. Oftentimes it's hard to get motivated when I'm in the doldrums. Plus, I don't feel like leaving the house, because then I might have to actually talk or smile at people *shudders*. My strategy for this is to make myself exercise to a quick Youtube video for ten or fifteen minutes. 

• Write/scribble in journals (but offline because no one needs to read my moaning). In fact I'm kind of addicted to notebooks and journals. This is my most recent one: 

• Patting my dog. I don't know why, but whenever I'm feeling sulky sensitive or need to unwind, some time with our resident pooch Cookie, always puts me in a better mood. This also works for my boys (except Mr 15, who isn't as much of a dog person). Apparently studies show that having a pet is good for your mental health. I'm far too lazy to go and do the actual research, but I'm pretty sure I've heard this. Look, just google it yourself, OKAY? HMPH.

• Cuddle my boys. Well, it's mainly the 7 year old who'll cuddle and occasionally Mr 12.  I better enjoy those cuddles because I don't know how much longer they'll last. Sigh. 

• Talk to someone. Yes, this is totally contradictory. I don't like talking. But sometimes even I have to force myself. It can be hard to find the right shrink (I always say shrink because I forget how to spell the proper word) or counselor that you feel comfortable with, but when you do it's helpful. As long as I don't have to do so (talk) all the time. 

• Wait it out. Remind yourself that it's just one of those days and it will pass. A 'blah' day.

Blah, blah, blah, blah. And even more blah.

Because BLAH.

Double blah.

Triple blah. 

Quadruple blah.

A billion blahs.

ALL. THE. BLAHS.

Karen Carpenter summed it up:

What I've got they used to call the blues
Nothing is really wrong
Feeling like I don't belong

Blah, blah, blah something about rainy days (which DON'T get me down, oddly enough)

What I feel has come and gone before 
No need to talk it out
We know what it's all about...

Yep, It does come and go. Just like all moods.

Me being awesome! 

• And when it does pass I put on some smart clothes and a bit of lippy and decide to be awesome. Because I am. So ner! 

Image credit: http://www.snorgtees.com/when-i-m-sad-i-stop-being-sad-and-be-awesome-instead

Right, that's it from me. I'm off to be awesome and listen Carpenters music. Nope. I don't have the blahs. That's just what I do in any mood. You know, just for something different! Later!

Linking up for I Must Confess. 

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Ten Things I Believe

Today I bring to you ten things I believe. A serious version and a silly one. Because I can never be all serious and deep and meaningful on this blog. Well, not very often, anyway. 


Ten Things I Believe: Serious Version 


1. Be kind. 

You know that internet meme about how everybody has an internal struggle you know nothing about? THAT. Basically just be kind. Don't be a dick also works here. 

2. Introverts are awesome! 

Well, duh. I'm super duper introverted and just look how awesome I am! 

3. When you're dead, you're dead.

I don't believe in God or heaven. I think it's the same as before you were born. You just don't exist anymore. You'd think this belief might give me some sense of urgency to do something with my life beyond EAT ALL THE CAKE. Apparently not. Oops.

Having said all of the above, I still reserve the right to believe in Emergency God. You know, when you're suddenly in a crisis and you start praying "Please god, let everything be okay..." There were certainly many times I prayed to a God I don't even believe in during my breast cancer experience. I just can't say 'journey'. 

4. Family is everything. I am so very lucky to have such a beautiful family and extended family. They mean the world to me. I LOVE them so much. And I'd also love them to leave me alone now and again. See point number 2. Ahem. 

5. You don't have to like or be liked by everyone.

It took me a while to figure this one out. Some people won't ever like you no matter what. You could give them a yacht and a million dollars and they still won't like you.  Although, if you want to test that theory I'm open to offers. I'd prefer a mansion and two million dollars, thanks. I promise I'll like you! Probably. 

6. You wouldn't worry about what others thought of you if you knew how seldom they did.

This one is courtesy of Dr Phil and fits in with the previous point. At least I got something out of hours of my life watching his show that I'll never get back. 

7. Happiness isn't the natural state for human beings a hundred percent of the time.

I read a book called The Happiness Trap by Russ Harris and it completely changed my way of thinking about happiness. Truthfully, happiness is just one of the gamut of emotions that everyone experiences during their lifetime. Nobody feels blissfully happy and contented every single second of every day, no matter what the highlight reels on their social media look like. 

8. What some one thinks of you is none of your business. Related: if  you happen to think my blog sucks I'd prefer not to know. Just click away...

Oh wait. Judging by the paltry amount of folk reading here, this is already happening. Sigh. 

9. I'm in no competition with no one.

This is yet another internet meme. But whatever works, right? This resonates with me. 

10. Letting go of the notion of having high self-esteem or self-confidence. 

This is another light-bulb moment courtesy of The Happiness Trap. The idea is that you stop judging yourself as a person. This is still something that I fall back into from time to time and have to keep reminding myself.  

Upon reflection it appears that I have gleaned a lot of wisdom from internet memes. Who said Facebook can't be educational and enlightening? 


Ten Things I Believe: Silly Version


1. Mornings suck.

I remember thinking that there should have actually been laws invented against getting up in the mornings before you were ready. That's how much my body protested against it. Mind you, I was having this thought in my late teens and early 20's. So you can imagine how eager I am to jump out of bed in my mid 40's. 

2. Cake should be the sixth food group.

Sure, it's fattening and terribly bad for you. Details!

3. Ditto chocolate.

4.  I believe in laughing at yourself and trying to see the funny side of stuff even when life is a tiny bit shit. 

5. There should be Carpenters music piped at a loud volume through every shopping centre and public place. Then every one else would vacate the premises in horror and this introvert would have it all to herself! Genius!

6. Weight should be like height. You get to your most healthy weight for your height and it stays there permanently no matter what you eat. Why didn't I design the human body? 

7. I believe in sleeping-in. 

This is pretty self-explanatory. See point number 1.

8. I believe I can fly. I believe I can touch the sky...

Okay, not really. But I DO believe that's one of the most annoying songs EVER. Says the woman who can listen to Carpenters songs about birds suddenly appearing and every sha la la la ad nauseam. Ahem.

9. I believe there should be a dinner fairy. 

And a washing up fairy. And a housework fairy... And just fairies in general. And unicorns. Basically what I'm saying is I believe in wine. Shut up. 

  


10. I believe I am all believed out. I believe I need a lie down.

Linking up for I Must Confess. 

What do YOU believe? 

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What I Wear To Bed

Today it's time to answer the burning question on everyone's lips. 
I'm sure you've spent hours pondering this very thing. Tossing and turning, unable to sleep at night until you know this vital information:

What does Nesski wear to bed?  

Well, I won't keep you waiting any longer, dear people. It's time to reveal this important detail. Hold onto your tits because it's going to be RIVETING. GOB SMACKING, I tell you! Just simply ASTOUNDING. 

Admit it, it is slightly astounding that anyone would could write such balderdash and pass it off as blog fodder. But you're reading it, so what are you like? 

And truthfully I just wanted to use the word 'balderdash'. So I just found a way to slip it in there. It's a totally underrated, underused word in my honest opinion. Right up there with 'codswallop' and 'poppycock'. I'm quite fond of 'rigmarole', too.

Speaking of rigmarole, here's the revelation you couldn't care less about were waiting for:

I have a breathtaking array of sexy nightwear! Using 'sexy nightwear' in the sense of nanna nightgowns and comfortable pyjamas. Shut up. 

Side note: Incidentally is it pajamas or pyjamas? I'm totally confused about that. Every time I type pyjamas the red squiggly line appears. However, when you spell-check it, it highlighted it in yellow saying it's wrong and suggested pyjamas. So now I'm confused. But then, I'm always confused, so my point is???? Confusing. 

In summer, I wear the night gowns. In winter. it's fleecy pyjamas all the way! SO HAWT! Yeah, NOT.

Well actually, they do keep me quite warm. That's kind of the whole point.

Besides, Mr 7 assures me that I look nice in my pyjamas. Maybe I should start wearing them as day wear? Or maybe Mr 7 is a compulsive liar. Not sure. 

In winter I like to be covered as much as possible with lots of blankets all neatly pulled up to my chin. I even like the idea of weighted blanket, but they're hellishly expensive. 

I also like the idea of wearing a onsie. Except it seems like it might be a bit of a nuisance when you have to pee. Peeing seems to take up an inordinate amount of my time. Too much information? Oops, sorry. That was awkward. Moving on. 

To add to my classy and elegant look, I also wear a beautiful floral polar fleece dressing gown and ugg boots. Coupled with my now completely grey, curly steel wool hair, this certainly brings a whole new level to the word STUNNING. 

I can only offer my sincere apologies for making you so jealous. Related: in fact, I did end up dyeing my hair on Saturday. Again, Mr 7 told me I looked nice. Mickey Blue Eyes told me I looked 'butch'. HMPH. I'll show him whose butch! I'll punch him in the.... Oh wait... Ahem...

Anyway, getting back to my daggy pyjamas. Because let's face it, who doesn't want to get back into my pyjamas. I mean, uh... Now it's awkward again. 

Let us pause and then resume the awkward. 

Pregnant pause.

Not really sure how a pause can be pregnant, but I'm just building suspense for the next round of information you never needed to know about me. Okay, that'll do.

In the past I found the above combo to be an effective 
contraception. These days I don't have to worry about such piffle (another great word), because a) I had a tubal ligation years ago, and b) I'm now in menopause with thanks to chemotherapy. Fun. 

During in-between seasons, I am quite partial to those night shirt type of things with long sleeves. I still like something to cover my arms during the night, but not full on pyjamas because they would get too hot. This is quite thrilling and entertaining information. 

In other random and pointless news, whenever I am all rugged up in my pyjamas and in bed, I seem to have developed a really helpful habit of waking around 4am. I then proceed to lie there and over think about everything and nothing that has happened in my entire life, why I'm here and what is it all about and would it be easier to be a dog or an ant or something. Thinking, thinking, thinking, ruminating, pondering, wondering, musing, mulling all the muddled up, mingling, murky thoughts in my mad mind. Then it's time to get up. At which point I feel like I've been given a dose of anaesthetic or the shit that killed Michael Jackson. Helpful. 

Another thing that occurs to me: existing is exhausting. 

I would try saying that really fast several times, preferably after a wine or two, but I CAN'T BE BOTHERED. See above. Which brings to me to my favourite hobby. See below. 

Well that is quite enough awkward details from me for one day.

No wait. One more thing: I am off to have my tits squashed. Afterwards I will need a good lie down. I will be wearing pyjamas. 

The end.


Linking up for I Must Confess

What do you wear to bed?

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Best Birthday Ever

It's time to tell you about my best birthday EVER.

The thing is, they're all pretty good because they all involve CAKE.

You knew I was going to say that, didn't you?

Image credit: https://au.pinterest.com/pin/161637074101411447/

My birthdays as a child were usually fairly low key affairs, as far as I can remember. First of all, my birthday is January 15th, so it was always right in the middle of school holidays. This meant a lot kids would have been away on holidays. Fortunately, I wasn't fussed about parties, anyway. I always disliked being the centre of attention. I just wanted to be the person in the corner silently stuffing my face with cakies and chocolate crackles.

I remember my 21st, my 30th and my 40th.

Me and my Mum at my 21st. 

For my 21st I had one of those classy backyard parties.  However, I froze in front of all my family and friends. Okay, friend. I think I had at least one. All eyes were upon me. Nobody had told me about this part of the proceedings. Apparently I was supposed to make a speech. I felt really embarrassed and stupid for the rest of the evening. But then there was cake, so it was all good. Cake fixes everything. Sort of. Until it doesn't... Details. 

Fast forward nine years. At my 30th birthday, I was totally oblivious to the fact that I was up the duff. In the pudding club. Bun in the oven. Knocked up. 

30 and fabulous! And knocked up. 

There I am. Up the duff and unaware. Tragically I appear to be in much better shape even in my expectant state, than I am now. Weird.  Now I'm pregnant with a cake baby. Shut up.

At my 40th birthday the star of the proceedings was indeed the CAKE. LOOK at it. This decadent and delicious creation was made by my Mum who is a freaking culinary GENIUS. 


My mum always says that the only birthday you should worry about is the one you don't have. Well, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be worrying about it because you'd be slightly dead.

I must confess this year my birthday was just a teensy bit shitty. I began chemotherapy just two days before. Somehow I niavely thought I would just go about my life as usual. I made plans to head out for lunch with my family. Yeah, right. I ended up in bed feeling rather horrid. So next January I have to make up for that. I mean, I still had cake. I wasn't DEAD. That's the only thing that will stop me. Ahem. 

I tell you what though, I will be so freaking happy to make it to 50 and beyond that I will definitely want to have a celebration.

That's why I'd like to believe that my best birthday EVER is still ahead of me. ALL of them. Bring them on. 

In the meantime, it's somebody's birthday somewhere, so bring on the cake! 


Linking up for #imustconfess

What wasyour best birthday EVER?

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