Cased

I've been tagged in the Ms Mystery Case Worth Casing Awards
 by the Queen of Awesome herself, Tegan over at Musings Of The Misguided. 

This means I'm worth 'casing'. This is the same as stalking expect without the creepy bit. And why wouldn't you stalk this blog?!

That was a rhetorical question. No need to answer. Thank you. 

Anyway, a big thanks to Tegan! 


Apparently I must answer five questions and then tag five other bloggers. The first part is easy. Here goes:


1. How long have you been blogging and why did you start?

Um, I think I started around March of 2012. I started because I used to write these silly witty Christmas/End of Year letters to friends. My friends were too polite to tell me to give up LOVED them. So I figured why stop at just boring my friends when there is an entire blogosphere out there?! You're welcome!

2. If your wardrobe could talk what would it say about you and tell us about your favourite or most worn item?

Well, it would most likely say something along the lines of 'Back away from the Cakies for FFS!!' Followed closely by: "There are a myriad of colours besides black!" But mostly it would just say: "You need to tidy me once in a while!"

My favourite and most worn item would be my trusty dressing gown, followed by my trackies. Ahem.  I also have a long sort of drapey coat type arrangement. I bought it from Autograph a few years ago and I've worn it TO DEATH. It's still got a few years of wear left in it. Shut up. 


3. What's your idea of the perfect date night?

What's that? Oh, you mean where you get to go out with your partner without kids to a restaurant that doesn't serve chicken nuggets? Yes, that would be lovely. Followed by watching an entire movie without interruption. 

4. What's on your Worth Casing list?

This is where I would love to be able to drop names like Prada and Diane Von Furstenburg with the ease of a svelte, cashed-up yummy mummy. The truth is this: I went into Millers the other day (I know. THE SHAME...) with my five dollar reward voucher to buy one of their long (black- what else?) cardies and there were none left!! How frightfully RUDE!  Plus, I really need some new shoes. Flat, sensible ones. Again, I reiterate: shut UP. 

5. If you had a theme song what would it be and why?

I'm not exactly sure but it would have to be something sad and weepy. probably involving violins. Especially after admitting to all of the above. Send In The Clowns? 

Now this is where it all starts to get tricky and too much for my tiny little brain. I'm supposed to tag five other bloggers. This is problematic because it appears that every blogger in the known universe has already been tagged. Besides which, you know I love you all, so how could I possibly narrow it down to only five?? 

I know, I know. I'm cheating and not playing the game right. But I've always been crap at these chain letter type things. So I'll probably have some awful tragedy happen to me now. Like ending up virtually destitute and friendless, shopping at Millers in sensible shoes and listening to weepy music.....

Oh wait....

TOO LATE. 

What's your theme song? 

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Top Five

I've decided to regurgitate this oldie but goodie post simply because I can't be bothered writing a new one it was so brilliant it deserves a second viewing. You're welcome.

Today I'm confessing to my top five favourite celeb hunks. These are the dudes I'd love to have a 'free pass' for from Micky Blue Eyes if the opportunity ever, erm... arose.

Highly likely, since I'm always jet-setting off to the Oscars and hanging around the Glitterati. Glitteratai? Whatever. As long as it's not actual glitter. That stuff is EVIL.

It's hard to narrow it down to five. But I'll try. I'm thinking: Hugh Jackman, Colin Firth, Bradley Cooper, Ryan Reynolds and that Irish dude from Bridesmaids. Okay, he's not even that good looking but it's the accent. Shut up. 

The truth is, even if the all the above gentleman were agreeable to this arrangement, (and let's face it, why wouldn't they be? I certainly do ooze sex appeal and all that), Micky Blue Eyes certainly would NOT give me a free pass for ANYBODY.  How rude. You'd think I married him or something and made some sort of promise to be faithful, forsaking all others. Oh.

DETAILS!

The man is frightfully jealous. Well, you can't blame him. I did mention my undeniable sex appeal. This, coupled with my extremely flirtatious nature, would be a cause for concern. Snorts.

Seriously though, there would be no free passes for me. And I would never give him one either. Sorry dude, you'll have turn Jen Hawkins down. The poor lass will just have to settle for the Adonis she married. Poor old Jen.

If we ever wanted to indulge in our secret passions and crushes we'd have to resort to a good old-fashioned affair. There is only one problem with this option. Actually a few problems.


My Top Five Reasons I Could Never Have An Affair

5. I would have to become an expert liar. While I am quite adept at making up crap writing witty words for this blog, I am less able to glibly lie, especially directly to some body's face. Plus, my memory is so shocking I'd have trouble recalling my own web of lies. This would clearly make me the worst adulterer EVER.


4. I would be really bad at sexting. I'd need lessons from Warnie. Hmmm, then again, Warnie wasn't that great at it either, was he? I'd have no idea how to send my lover photos of my national geographics boobs. Worse still, I have no idea how to delete texts. I've only recently come into the 21st century and obtained an android phone. Shut up. 


3. I would actually have to shave my legs once in while. This would certainly make Micky Blue Eyes suspicious. Very suspicious indeed. Not to mention other areas that would require deforestation. I meant my 'moutache' and pits! Nobody wants to know about any other bits. 

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!

Which brings me to my next point...



2. Nobody has propositioned me! Not once! EVER!

You'd think that in the space of almost twenty years somebody would have tried to get their leg over. But no. Unless you count that creepy old dude with trousers up to his arm pits who rubbed himself against me in a crowded elevator at the shops once. Nothing. 

Clearly it's my devastating sex appeal that is intimidating. I'm just too much woman for all these men. Way too much.

Okay, I suppose I do need to lose weight. Sniff. 

And the number one reason I could never have an affair....

Drum roll please! (You'll have to imagine it...)



1. I. CAN'T. BE. BOTHERED. 

Seriously, who has the time or inclination for all that sneaking around and sexting? It all seems like a bit too much effort to me. 

I'm sure there are certain websites with names like sleazebagsanddesperadosdotcom where I could hook up with some
creepy old dude with trousers up to his arm pits hot dude if I was that way inclined, but for some reason that I simply can't fathom, this just doesn't appeal to me. 


So there you have it. All the reasons I wouldn't have an affair.

Oh, those reasons and the fact that I'm truly, madly and deeply in love with Micky Blue Eyes and would never look sideways at another man....

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh my! What were we talking about again? I got distracted doing my neck exercises. Okay, I'm off to do some house work more neck exercises. Bye! 

Linking up for I Must Confess ,Open Slather  and Mummy Mondays.

Who are your 'top five'?

Could you ever have an affair?

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Ticking Off Lists Ticks Me Off: Another Post About Nothing

To be perfectly honest with you I know NOTHING. In fact, I know a whole lot of nothing about absolutely NOTHING.  I’m a nothing expert, if you will. Just what the World needs.  Especially with all these ProBlogger posts circulating the blogosphere about ‘useful’ content. 

Meh. 

Instead, I bring to you a completely useless post about, you guessed it: NOTHING! You’re welcome.

I know that I am frightfully hungry right now and uncertain whether to plunge ahead with that trusty meal we tend to call lunch. You see, my parents mentioned that they would be calling in and I fondly imagined that this might coincide with lunch as it has at other times. But they haven’t appeared as yet. Which is extremely rude, as I expected them to provide the lunch. HMPH.

(Mum, I’m joking if you’re reading this!) Oh who am I kidding? Of course she's reading this! Nobody else does. Sniff. 

I know that I’m in a rather wistful, dreamy, reflective mood today. You know, as opposed to all the other days when I’m alert, efficient and organised. Not to mention delusional. Shut up. We weren’t supposed to mention that!

I know that I have at least attempted to become alert, efficient and organised. In the last few months I have started developing a habit of writing down a to-do list and ticking it off. I know! Ground breaking! I’ve always been cutting edge. 

Anyway, despite my forays into list-making, there is no discernible evidence of this unique endeavour. My house still resembles a war-zone with no end of things to-do in sight. This is most disheartening. What I would like to know is: how do people receive pay-offs from house-keeping and organising? I suppose they are just better at it than me. Bloody show-offs.

  

This ticking off lists is starting to tick me off. I want pay-offs! After all, if I’ve gone to the astonishing effort of doing and completing five million things in a day, I expect fan-fare: crowds cheering, balloons and celebratory champagne.  Plus, a million dollars in cold hard cash, thanks very much. 

If Kim Kardashian can demand buckets of cash just for turning up to an event with her large arse and even larger attitude, I don’t see why I, a modest house wife, shouldn’t be able to demand the same. 

I consistently turn up in my own ramshackle home, with my large arse, and make a lacklustre attempt at maintaining some semblance of disorder. I mean, where is the justice? 

On a side note, isn't ‘ramshackle’ a most delightful word? It’s almost worth having a ramshackle home, just so that I can confidently use the word ‘ramshackle’.  Dilapidated and dishevelled would also work here. 

Who wants to have a home that could only be described as ‘perfect’when you can have one that is ramshackle, dilapidated and dishevelled?  Everybody?  Oh. As you were, then.

I still stand by the above words.  And live with them. In them? Whatever.

You know how I mentioned that I was frightfully hungry a few paragraphs ago. It would appear that I am now ravenous. I may have to go to all the effort of making my own lunch. Shocking. 

Related: when Micky Blue Eyes asks me ‘What are you having for lunch?’ what he really means is ‘Make me lunch’. As I typed that he did make his own toast. But none for me. Grounds for divorce really, if you ask me.

In other astounding news, it’s raining! Why not? Just for something COMPLETELY DIFFERENT.

Oh well, I guess I had better go and have lunch and tick it off my list.  Of course it’s on my to-do list! Breakfast, lunch AND dinner! That way, at least I know I’ll definitely tick three things off my list of five million. Winning! 

Linking up with Ann at Help!! I'm Stuck!! for Things I Know. 

What's ticking you off? What things do you know? 

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Cakie Queen

Well, today's confession is perfect for me. The self-confessed Queen Of Cakies. Actually it's not much of a confession. It's old news. Anybody who has ever read this space knows I'm the Cakie Queen.

I love cake but it doesn't seem to like me. It appears to want to make me fat. How frightfully RUDE. The same phenomenon applies to my other weakness: chocolate. It really is quite unfair that this love affair is unrequited. Sniff. 

It has also become a clandestine affair. Forbidden fruit and all that. Over a year ago the not very surprising shocking news came that my cholesterol levels were a concern. Additionally, my blood sugar was somewhat borderline. This would have indicated that I should have dutifully started the I Quit Sugar programme, pronto.

Instead, I embarked on the I Don't Really Want To Quit Sugar So  I'll Pretend That Didn't Happen Programme. This involves inserting ones head in ones posterior. Then compromising your health by continuing in much the same vein, but with an extra dollop of guilt. As if the guilt I already had wasn't quite enough, thanks very much. Yes, I'm very mature.

After all, the days of being able to take the 'Mars a day' advertising slogan quite literally(which I did as a teen), were well and truly behind me decades ago.

Feeling foolish, and thinking I needed a massive kick up my afore- mentioned rather large posterior, I signed up for the Get Healthy Programme. You know the one. They advertise it on the telly in between all the ads for Maccas and Magnums. You have a telephone coach call every week to guide you on a path to healthy eating.

Apparently, I seem to have confused it with the Get Unhealthy Programme. I have made some improvements. I'm cooking a lot more healthy meals for the family. But my sugar addiction remains intact. Sigh.

I appear to be one of those folk whose only arsenal against avoiding temptation (especially of the cake shaped variety) is simply never having the temptation in front of me. Ever.

Easy peasy.

All I need to do is avoid all shops and restaurants and social occasions FOREVER. Meanwhile, I can live on the rations that Micky Blue Eyes pokes through the bars of the cage I'll have to stay in. I'll be so feral without my sugar fix I won't be fit for any human contact. Done.

The other day I had a conversation with my Mum that went something like this:

"Have you been back for your blood test again?"

"Um, no..." I replied.

"You better make sure you do it!" she admonished me. It was just like I the time when I was three years old and scribbled all over the living room walls. I was a very naughty girl.

"Okay." I agreed meekly, already feeling faint. I hate the thought of blood, let alone the sight of it.

The same day, I arrived home to find a reminder from my GP complete with a pathology slip. I think the universe is trying to tell me something. Well, my Mum and my GP are, anyway.

This shit is getting real. I really am a middle aged woman.  Who knew? It may actually be well past the time to relinquish my crown and officially step down as the Cakie Queen. Sigh. Double Sigh. Triple Sigh. Hysterical sobbing even.

I know. I'm frightfully immature. I can't accept eating cakies and sugar in moderation. Meanwhile, there are children dealing with the reality of living with Diabetes every day. I know I'm being ridonkulous. I also know ridonkulous is not word. But I DON'T CARE. So ner! 

Anyway, I'm going to go and have my blood test this week and accept the reality of whatever I'm told.

On the plus side, I bought a set of scales the other day. I tested the display model and it told me I've lost about 1.5 kilos!! Okay, that's not much. But I'll take anything, considering the amount of cake I shovel in. Ahem.

And I promise I won't bore you with anymore posts about my weight or failed attempts to give up my beloved cakies. Deal.

Linking up for I Must Confess.

What is your favourite sweet treat? 

Have you ever been successful in giving it up?

Is the I Quit Sugar programme really as awful as it sounds? 

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Monday Morning Moaning

I must confess that I have NO IDEA what little mini confessions I  can confess to. I'm desperately trying to think of something and coming up as empty and blank as...well, my mind. So this could be interesting.

Or, you know, as boring as batshit. But bear with me. You know you want to. Okay, you don't really want to.  Just think of me, if you will, as that crashing, heaving bore you sometimes end up sitting next to on a plane or at any social occasion. You know the kind. The ones that want to regale you with every intricate detail of their tedious existence. Meanwhile, you sit there apparently spellbound but really suppressing the urge to scream. But you're  too nice and polite so you  smile and nod instead. Or is that just me? 

Alternatively, I guess you could just click away right now. I can't really stop you.  Hmph.  

You're still here?  Oh. I guess that means I do have to come up with  something. Hmmm, let's see....

I've got nothing.

In which case, I might as well just steal every one else's ideas be inspired by others and list the things I'm completely over. Every other bugger blogger seems to have given this a spin and I like to be cutting edge and original.  Shut up. 

The things I am COMPLETELY over, in  no particular order, are:

SOCCER

More specifically, getting up on a Saturday morning and schlepping out to the boys games. This involves a complicated game of tag as there are three of them, two of us and only one car.  Therefore, I confess I am somewhat elated that the season has finally come to an end. HALLELUJAH! 

Moreover, I still remain firmly convinced that my boys should really have taken up cross-dressing instead of soccer as an extra-curricular activity. I'm sure getting on some fishnets and stilettos would be so much easier than those bloody soccer socks, boots and shin pads. Nightmare. 

HOME  IMPROVEMENT SHOWS

In particular the shows where they  de-clutter and make-over ordinary suburban homes. 

I'm always bemused by the after shots of such make-overs. The house is transformed from sheer chaos to sleek and stylish, complete with calming scented candles flickering away for added ambiance. 

Seriously?  Candles? With children?  If I lit any candles around here the house would be up in flames quicker than you could say 'insurance claim'.  Then again, I  HAVE paid the insurance. Ahem...

I'd love to challenge them to do our home. I'm sure if that Peter Walsh character took one look at our humble abode, his solution would be pretty clear cut. He would simply take out a hand grenade, detonate it, hand to me and RUN. 

FIGHTS OVER PLAYSTATION/COMPUTER

I have completely failed as a parent. Tragically, my boys do not  possess their own exclusive lap-top/PS4/Ipad/Ipod and any other device I probably haven't  heard of. I'm so broke mean. How can I deprive them of such luxuries necessities?  This means they have to do the unthinkable: SHARE.  Fights and indignation ensue. 

But why don't you just set them time limits I hear you ask?  You're the boss, after all. 

GENIUS. Why didn't I think of that? Oh wait. I did. 

It goes like this:

They are given a time and happily agree with rapturous thank yous. As soon as their time is up they immediately announce to their patiently waiting brother: "It's your turn, Bro!" 

They blissfully hi-five each other while beaming and the next person takes their turn. All is sweetness and light. 

YEAH. RIGHT. In my dreams. 

In reality there are furious shriekings of:

"That's not fairrrrrrrrr!!"

"Why does HE always get to go first??!!" 

"Muuum, he's  TEASING meeeee!!"  (If one smirks at the other as they reluctantly trade places). 

This can escalate to the point where they effectively try to kill one another while Micky Blue Eyes and I issue time outs and groundings.

Ahhhhh, the serenity. I mean, insanity.....

.

LASER TAG  PARTIES (OR ANY  PARTIES,  REALLY...)

I have been to two of these recently. Mr 5 was invited to one and then Mr 10. They are one big cacophonous wall of noise. It makes my head hurt just thinking about it. 

In spite of this, I know that when November rolls around and Mr 5 becomes Mr 6, I will dutifully book him one. This is still preferable than inviting people to our hand grenade worthy home. And infinitely preferable to me having to be the hostess to any party. I'll just make sure I have extra strength panadol with codeine on the day for the inevitable headache.

Which brings me to my next item....

HEADACHES

Micky Blue Eyes and I must be responsible for keeping the makers  of Nurofen thriving. On any given day, one or the other or both of us have a headache. Fun times.  

BROKEN SLEEP AND DISJOINTED, CRAZY DREAMS

Last night's blissful  slumber involved a  dream of passing an horrific car accident. I spotted a  severed  head on the road with huge pools of blood. Needless to say, I woke up feeling sick and shaken. 

I am not taking any illegal drugs, so where are these ridonkulous dreams coming from?  Perhaps I should just start a meth habit and be done with it? Except I have no idea where I would find anything like that in the classy old western suburbs of Sydney. 

That concludes my Monday morning moaning. Big sighs of relief all round. Well, I could keep going, but I'm sure we're all over crashing, heaving bores. Ahem.

Linking up forLaugh Link and I Must Confess. 

What are you completely over? 

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Happy Is The Way I'm Feeling...

It feels like it's been a while since I've checked into my little World here at Nessville. In reality, it's only been just over a week. And what a week it's been. Such a sad week, with the passing of Robin Williams added to all the other usual sad stuff that is the news every day.  So sad, that the Lounge Lizards want us to get all happy just to lighten things up a bit. So I will.

In case you haven't figured it out yet, I am a simple deep and complex creature who can somehow find happiness with the most inane unusual and interesting things. Such as:


Why wouldn't this make you happy? Totally cracks me up.

• Carpenters (the musical duo NOT the tradesmen. Although if they were cute tradesmen...*coughs* I mean, erm, I'd still stick to the musical duo as I'm a married woman and all that. Ahem.
• Karen Carpenter (TOTALLY different thing. Sort of. Kind of.  Okay, not really)
• Music in general
• Books
• Reading (which kind of explains the books thing)
• Exercising. Yes, exercising! (Tragically, you can't get the same endorphins from sleeping. Hmph!)
• Strength training. Yes, strength training. (I have buns of steel. Well, I might if it wasn't for the next three things...)
• Cakies

  

  A few of my favourite things sent to me by my favourite
  imaginary friends. Thanks Posski and Randa!

• Chocolate
• Food in general
• Pretty notebooks
• Make-up
• Jewellery
• Clothes (comfy track suit pants ARE clothes!!)
• Blogging
• Writing
• Laughing
• Mangoes (the only good thing about Summer is all the stone fruits)
• Strawberries
• Cups of tea
• The colour green
• The colour purple ( but not necessarily together WITH green)
• Pub meals
• All meals (ahem...)

• Wine
• Scotch and coke (these last two can make me EXTREMELY happy *hiccups and giggles*)
• Lipstick (see number 12)
• Hair dye
• Dogs (especially Beagles and Dachshunds)
• Babies (as long as they're somebody else's at this point)
• Movies
• Warm (but not too hot) weather
• Roses (the flowers and the Cadbury variety)
• Being warm
• My bed
• Snuggling in bed (see above)
• Hugs with my boys
• Houses
• Dreams
• Pens
• Phone
• Computer/Internet
• Facebook (I may be addicted. There was no need for the word 'may' in that sentence...)
• Blogger ( So I can bore everyone. You're welcome)
• Vitamins
• Autumn leaves
• Spring
• Comfy shoes
• Shoulder massages
• Any massages
• Clean sheets
• Staying in motels
• My heat pillow (because I'm like a hundred year old woman named Enid with all my aches and pains)
• Blank paper
• 'Anne' books
• Retro things
• Daydreaming
• Sleeping
• Pointless lists
• Diaries and journals
• Humour
• Special occasions
• Friends (I think I still have one or two)
• My boys
• Walks
• Quiet time
• Old photos
• Words
• Chick flicks
• Chick lit
• My cakie make-up bag
• My cakie pyjamas
• My cakie notebook (I'm sensing a theme here)
• Imaginary (online) friends
• My family
• Funny blog posts (reading them or writing them)
• Funny things my boys say
• Micky Blue Eyes (just in case he's reading this: it means nothing that you didn't make the list until now. I was just saving the best until last)

Thus ends another pointless fascinating list. Now, I'm off to my happy place.... 

Linking up with Tegan from Musings Of The Misguided for The Lounge.

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Let It Go

I'm not sure if I can pin point one specific moment in my life that stands out above others. There was no moment when I could have chosen two different paths. I never really had any path. I just drifted along in my own little World. This has worked out well since I now have this space specifically for being in my own little World. See? I knew being a drifting daydreamer was a great Life Plan. Ahem.

It sounds a bit naff to say it, but probably the day that I first found out I was pregnant does stand out for me. It's a long story.  Suffice to say, I was already 26 weeks pregnant and had NO IDEA. But I was thrilled. For years I had believed that it could never happen. That day was better than winning the lottery. I wish I could bottle that kind of euphoria and sell it because I'd be a freaking millionaire.

While becoming a Mother was genuinely thrilling to me and I wouldn't trade it for anything, little did I know the sacrifices that were coming.

 In short, I have completely and utterly let myself go.

There was a time when I used to love dressing up. Donning a lovely frock was one of my favourite past times. Usually they were sewn by my Mum. I loved myself sick in these frocks. These days I hardly ever wear dresses.

Similarly, I enjoyed going to the hairdressers and whittling away several hours and a fair amount of cash to have my hair done. Although why I thought the mullet-perm was ever going to be a good idea back in 1987 remains a mystery.

I liked to wear make-up and would paint my face up with gusto.  I never realised that I was over-doing the eye shadow. Tragically, I believed that green or purple eye shadow were a good look, but at least I was making an effort.

Despite these efforts I've always had an aversion to high heels and pantyhose. I would occasionally wear them, though. Now they are like my once tiny waist - non-existent in my World. Sigh.

Yes, I certainly have let myself completely 'go'.

I know this because:

• I haven't seen the inside of a Hairdressers since....never mind....
• I'm looking forward to embracing my inner Prue or True and having a silver bob or pixie cut because I CAN'T BE BOTHERED ANYMORE.
• I have clothes in at least three different sizes. I convince myself that the larger ones clearly have the wrong label on them. Ahem.
• The real reason I have three different sizes is because most of my clothes are stretchy, floaty, elastic waisted or tunics etc.
• The rare times I do actually slap a bit of war paint on for a night out my son enquires in perplexed tones: Why have you got make-up on?
• I took a selfie or two for the first time ever, but only after carefully checking for poses that don't emphasise my double chin. Okay, chins.
• I often seethe inside at the injustice of how much easier it is to be a man. So much so, that I've seriously considered just shaving my hair off and wearing Micky Blue Eyes' clothes out to the shops. After all, these days I can manage to sport quite an impressive moustache, so I may get away with it. Until I speak. But it could be quite amusing to see the check out chick's reaction. No?
• The only clothes I buy are from 'Nanna' stores like Millers or the fat plus section at Best & Less. Classy.
• My skin care routine consists of slathering on a bit of sunscreen if ever I should log off the computer and emerge blinking and bewildered into the sunshine.  I may whack on a bit of the old Oil Of Olay once a week or so when I notice my sand-paper like skin.
• I wear make-up so infrequently that I appear to have developed an allergic reaction to it. As soon I apply the slightest amount, my eyes sting and water like crazy. Or I could just be weeping that there is no miracle cream to disguise double chins.
• I am clueless about the meaning of words like 'threading' and 'shellac' and have to Google them.
• I am baffled by the apparent burning urge of every woman in Australia to want to dress like Nina Proudman despite being a fan of Offspring.
• I look back at old photographs of myself and am astounded that I wasted so much energy thinking I was fat when I wasn't. Immediately a foreboding feeling washes over me that I may be looking back at current photos ten years from now and thinking the same thing. *shudders*

• If I posted an Outfit Of The Day, as some bloggers do, it would mostly be an alluring mix and match of joggers, track suit or yoga pants, jumper or polar fleece jacket.
• I never actually do yoga in the afore mentioned yoga pants. Shut up. I do aerobics in them. So ner.
• I still need to wear these items despite jumping around like a lunatic doing aerobics on a virtually daily basis. *sobs*
• I have never worn skinny jeans. See above.
• I believe all jeans are over-rated.

After writing this list I feel like a cup of tea and a good lie down. What I really need is a good long look in the mirror and to get a grip. On something other than cake. That might be handy.

Linking up for Laugh Link and I Must Confess.

Have you let yourself 'go'?

What moment in time would you go back to?

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