“Fair game”? Or – sod off!!

Hello!!!! So we’re into September, and the rain, and cold – ohhh, the cold!!! ~yes, I have the heating on and no, I don’t care!!

Back to work with a vengeance, nannying, fostering, babysitting, another child heading off to Uni soon…you get the picture.

So on Sunday I decided I’d book for my youngest and a foster kid to go trampolining. I could sit happily with a coffee and wifi while they exhausted themselves, I earned brownie points and it meant the house was quiet while my husband slept (he was on nights the previous night).

All good, right? Yeah. No.

Do you assume if someone isn’t wearing a wedding ring that they’re fair game? Even if they’re in a place full of kids, clearly taking no notice of anyone around them, that they’re just waiting to be chatted up? I’ve no problem with speaking to anyone really who talks to me, but my nose was buried in my ipad, I had my coffee and was oblivious to anything but the two teenagers I’d brought with me.

Can you sit there? Sure you can. No problem. It’s busy.

You’re “offloading” your kid at 1. Oh, ok. Clearly doing your ‘fatherly’ duties then.

<nose back into ipad>

Do i fancy doing something this afternoon? Ah, erm, shit, right, ok…how do I answer that?

“I’m going home to my husband”

Husband?? Oh. <pointed look at hand holding coffee cup – I’m a leftie>

“Yes. Husband. But thanks for the offer.”

You don’t look married.

Hmm. So I have the choice. Go into a long-winded explanation about weight loss, rings not fitting, too expensive to lose, put them away to be safe, no I DON’T want a cheapie to see me through…

or just smile and say. “Yes. Husband.”

Oh. And “offloading” your kid at 1? No wonder you’re divorced.

huh. Next time I’ll sit in the car <my car has wifi. I’m antisocial>

So. Being hit on. HOW do you cope with that when actually, if you were 9 + stones heavier as you’ve always been, they wouldn’t have looked once, never mind twice???





Two in two days – or, helpful places!

I thought I’d do a quick post for folk like me, who can never eat a normal meal again. That’s right, NEVER. Not in a year or when I’ve lost enough weight, or in a few years, or maybe it could be reversed. No. This cannot be reversed, and it can’t be undone, and I can never eat a normal meal again.

So, what about eating out? I guess thats not possible too, right? Wrong. My husband and I have eaten out at least once a week since I’ve had this done. We’ve been to loads of different restaurants and cafe’s, some basic places, other upper class posh ones. I’ve met friends regularly for “coffee n cake” type things, or for lunch or dinner.

One thing I do have is a little card from the hospital, that discretely explains I’ve had major surgery and therefore cannot eat much, and would they be so accommodating as to allow me to simply have a starter or a childs portion. Problem being, I can’t finish them either! The other thing I am lucky enough to have is a husband who happily hands me the menu, and will share with me whatever I want to order.

Some places have been absolutely fantastic – top of the list being Zizzi’s at Birstall, where the waiter sorted everyone elses order then came and sat with me, asked what I “can” eat (as nothing on the menu worked), then went off to see the chef, they made me salmon with peas, potatoes and a sauce, and didn’t charge me a penny.

Bibi’s in Leeds too, we go occasionally for one of their ‘dinner shows” with friends. It is NOT a cheap place, and the menu is a set price per head. Yet when I rang them and explained, they immediately said there would be no charge for me and they were more than happy for me to share what my husband was eating.

Aagrah, at Pudsey, they’re a buffet place and our kids love it – so do we! Speak to the manager when I arrive and they only charge me the child’s price for the buffet, and they don’t hover over me to see what I’m eating to make sure it isn’t too much either.

Everybody’s in Guiseley, I go often with a lovely friend for brunch and they do me a kids breakfast to share with my nanny toddler (who eats more than me!), or if I go at lunchtime they’ll do me a kids portion of anything on the menu, or happily let me and my husband share a meal.

Multiplex places will often have a jacket potato type place, and they let me order the “half a spud” kids option but with an adult topping on.

Curry restaurants happily box up what I can’t eat to take home – I’m never lucky enough to get my leftovers though, as my husband always gets there first!

Other pizza and buffet chains have been more than happy for me to just order a starter, and little local places are simply happy for someone who’ll have a couple of coffees to go along with their “bit of something” they might order to eat.

I was worried I’d have issues asking places, and sometimes they have refused initially – until i go have a discreet word with the manager and show my card, at which point they are 99% of the time more than happy for me to order from the childrens menu. I’ve read online about people having problems, having to spend £15/20 on a meal they can only eat 1/8th of, being refused just one course – of course, some folk WANT to order and have a little bit off all the food, then happily have the rest thrown away by the restaurant but that makes me want to cry – cannot stand food waste.

Don’t get me wrong. Some stuff I simply cannot eat, it won’t go down, and at this stage it is doublful it ever will do. Some days are “eating” days, and some are absolutely not – it used to be that I could eat one day, then not for the next two. Now, it’s probably about 50/50. There’s no knowing what the day will bring though. Some days my tablets won’t even go down, and they ARE my priority. I take about 18/20 a day, and will for life. Do I care? No.

I was asked the other day, “don’t you care that you can’t eat properly?” The only answer to that is that now, I DO eat properly. Better than I’ve ever done. Quality protein, gorgeous sauces, decent restaurants. Yes, the odd bit of processed stuff when I’m in a rush or tired.

My biggest help with all of this? My husband. He has been 100% by my side through it all. Never once complained that he cannot eat what HE wants on a certain day. Never complained at having to stop more frequently so I can eat something. Never complained that I’m costing us money for underwear and clothes…

After him? My friends. My lovely friends who all are happy to go to places where I can eat off the menu that’s there, they’re happy to share or finish what I can’t have, happy just to sit and chat. Bearing in mind it has to be gluten free for me too, sometimes thats quite an ask.

Please, don’t think there are only upsides to this surgery. There are many downsides too, there are folk I thought would share, and they’ve refused. There are folk I thought would “have my back” and be interested, and they have totally ignored all of  it. Some people are jealous, other’s are rude.

The people who matter? They’re amazing, and without them, this would be a damn site harder than it has been.


It’s been a while…

Hello there.  It’s been a while, in all honesty I have been run off my feet with working, celebrating my husband’s 50th, going out, working, going on holiday, working, running the house, oh, and did I mention working?

So I’m not really sure where I left things at the end of the last entry, so I’ll just ramble a bit about what’s gone on recently. My husband turned 50 in June, and we had a fab month of celebrations. Posh lunches, posh dinners, family visiting, a fantastic weekend in London, theatre shows, concerts etc. Then the icing on the cake for Mr M was his new baby – a little dachshund puppy!

Soon after we had just under a fortnight in Cyprus with friends – our first proper summer holiday for ten years, in the sun, with lovely company, food, the sea, the pool, a great apartment too. None of us wanted to come home at all!

In the meantime, I’ve lost more weight, seem to have gained more skin, and have just as many hang-ups about my appearance as i always did, only different ones to before.

Perhaps one day I’ll be happy with what I see in the mirror – but I’d better not hold my breath!



Wrinkles, crinkles and 6 months later…

So on Wednesday of this week it was a massive occasion in our house. We had visitors, cake, lunch out, dinner out, beer, wine and cake. It was six months since I had my bypass!!! Woohoo! Oh, and it was my husband’s 50th birthday too…maybe that’s what the celebrations were about…haha.

There again, along with all his gifts, meal, money, vouchers, tattoo, weekend away, 2018 Download ticket AND a new puppy, he, in effect, also has a new wife. Same name, same attitude, sounds the same but looks rather different – and it hasn’t even cost him 50% of his assets. Lucky chap!! Seriously though, I’ve lost around 7 stones, I look vastly different, I’ve a ton more energy and he is reaping all the benefits.

I’m getting more self conscious though – my arms are driving me mad, and my thighs. Not to mention my stomach and the fact that when I am naked, I seem to move in several separate parts – I’m hoping I start to all join back together again eventually!!

I never expected to be so different in such a short space of time. I think subconsciously I thought I’d be no different, look the same, feel the same. It’s only now that I remember the way I was, that I realise how far I’ve come. My feet, knees, hips and back hurt so much less now. I can breathe. I have energy, most days…

Happy Birthday to the man who completes me. I love you.



It’s been a while. Life gets in the way – combined with fostering, working, my children, my eldest getting married, university, and trying to maintain the focus on our marriage, means sometimes stuff for “me” takes a back seat.

But, most of the above is also for “me”. I work so we can have a lifestyle we want – well, try to – we foster/host students because we have a big house and it’s pointless it being empty, plus we love the multi-cultural world it brings into our childrens lives. Uni is something I’m loving, despite it being blinking hard work – I’m nearly at the end of Y1 and I’ve signed up for Y2 already. The wedding was amazing, and all our hard work paid off. My husband and I have always tried to make time just for us, we have date nights, and we put our relationship first – we have seen far too many friends who put their relationship last and it suffers badly, usually terminally. We have “YAM” days, nights and weekends – YAM being You and Me.

Bloody hell I sound smug. I’m really not though. I’m struggling with te changes going on on the inside and the outside right now. Heading for 7 stones off in under 6 months, and thats huge. I’m still huge too, but I can’t pick up anything that weighs that much, yet I’ve spent 30+ years carrying it round.

Skin is an issue. A huge issue. I go from thinking “I cannot EVER be seen by ANYONE looking like this, including my husband” to thinking “f*ck it, it’s who I am and I’m bloody proud of myself” and I’ve bought a bikini to wear on holiday this year. Haha, as if THAT will have the tags taken off it!!!

But why, when I look in the mirror, do I 99% of the time see the size 24 me? Why do I still see myself as being morbidly obese? Why don’t I see the changes? We take photos and on those I see two different people when I put them side by side, but in everyday life I look no different to me.

I’m at the stage where people who haven’t seen me for a while walk past me, or look puzzled when I smile and say “hello”. Then there’s the shock, then the awkward stage where they make small talk and you can see they want to ask but don’t like to.  But, I’m me. Just me. No different on the inside – still grumpy, awkward, kind, caring, bit of a bitch, and gobby. Just me.

So, yunno, if you see me and I say hi, just say hi back to me. Don’t feel awkward, ASK me. I’ll happily tell you how I’ve lost weight – but woe betide you if you then decide to say it’s been the easy option. This is the HARDEST thing I’ve EVER done. I thought getting to the surgery date was the difficult bit, but it really isn’t. And no, I don’t care that I’ll never eat a normal meal again. I don’t care that I can’t eat bread/pasta. I don’t care that I’m needing new clothes every month.

I care that people treat me differently. They think I’ve changed on the inside. Or are they jealous? Or worried? Or pleased? I was told by a doctor friend, when he heard what I’ve had done, “that’s the best thing you could ever have done. You’ve added 20 years to your life”. That was rather a strange thought process to digest that…I’m heading for my half century in a couple of years, so if I’ve now added on 20-ish, was my life nearly over?

In all honesty, I’m just me. The me I’ve always been, only I’ll be around a lot longer now…

Skin – can I love the skin I’m in?

This week has brought about a few changes that I’m really not happy with, yet at the start they are ones that I was sure wouldn’t bother me.

Skin. The biggest organ of the body. I always knew that I’d end up with loose skin, wrinkles, saggy boobs, stretch marks etc. Yet there are places I was sure these side effects wouldn’t bother me at all. My lovely husband has always told me that I can have any corrective surgery I want, once the weight is off, and I know he means it. Yet I always insisted the only thing I’d consider would be tummy and boobs, because I wouldn’t care about the rest…

Only I do. I’ve lost 6 stones in 4.5 months, just over, it’ll be 5 months on the 21st of May. I know it’s fast, I know it’s inevitable, and I am going to the gym/swimming/walking as much a I can, as well as spending every day lifting toddlers and babies. Yet my arms are awful and my thighs are too now. My tummy isn’t shrinking so I still look 22 stones plus, and my boobs are getting worse by the day.

I feel ridiculous, self-conscious, and very unattractive. Why the hell have I booked a beach holiday for this July? I’ll be the one in 40* heat wearing jeans and a long sleeved top.

I never realised I was this vain. That makes me feel bad too. So many more important stuff to care about, yet I don’t like what I see in the mirror…still. Even after getting to a weight I never imagined.


In all honesty, I didn’t expect to feel this way. So before I bankrupt us buying creams and lotions that I KNOW don’t work, what can I do? Help please…

Well goodness me…

I can’t remember when I last found five minutes to sit and write anything. It’s been an absolutely manic few weeks, our son has married his beautiful girl and we’ve gained another daughter.

The wedding was absolutely bloody brilliant. The run-up to the wedding, making of the cake (by me), doing the table centers (by us), the room decor (us), the putting up of groomsmen and organising of family (us…getting the picture…) and the BLOODY cake (me) very nearly finished us off. The cake came very near to causing a divorce last Wednesday…

BUT. We did it. We really, really did it. It was absolutely amazing. We, and they, loved every minute of it. The cake remained standing, so did I – mostly – despite being awake since 01:30 am. We danced the night away, literally, and the following day I could not move. Absolute agony from head to toe. Yesterday was slightly better, and today I’m doing ok. The bride and groom have swanned off to Florida, leaving us with the aftermath to deal with…lol.

Well, the weight is going down. The dress looked lovely, and I changed in the evening into one that had fitted two weeks ago but I realised was too loose by the wedding, but I wore it anyway.

I still have trouble eating some days – sometimes food goes in, sometimes it won’t. Yesterday was ok, today it’s a struggle. I’m going to avoid carrots for a fair old while I think, as they are not digestible!

I see the dietician again on Monday…see what she has to say.

Whose shadow is that?

Hello. It’s been a bit of a week really. Easter holidays here, so I’ve swopped my term-time little ones for my holiday big ones, and we’ve been doing various days out so the boredom doesn’t kill them.

We do allsorts in the holidays, trampolining, swimming, theme park, lunch out etc. A couple of days ago I went to get petrol before I picked them up, and was stood filling my car when the lady at the next pump looked over. I half recognised her, and smiled. She looked, and said “hello. You’ve lost weight”. Oh, yes, says I. Yes I have. “How?” She asked. So I explained – I’m not ashamed, I don’t mind saying what I’ve done. Some folk won’t agree, that’s fine. But I wasn’t expecting to be told by her that I look haggard, my husband will leave me, I’m lazy, a waste of NHS money.

Now, of course, I can think of LOADS of good responses. Then, all I managed to say before bursting in to tears was “my husband is thrilled. F*@k off” and drove away.

It’s made me curl up and die inside though. Is this what people ARE thinking but too polite to say to me? If you do think that, do us both a favour and delete yourself from my bookface. Delete my number as well. I don’t need “friends” like that.

I’m smaller now than the day I married my husband. He insists he is thrilled with the changes, that he has always wanted me to be healthy. That I’m his, he is mine, and that is that. Doesn’t stop the nightmares though…

So whose shadow is that? We went to Lightwater Valley yesterday, and took 5 children with us. Walking along I saw a shadow on the floor, and could not work out who it belonged to. I followed its legs and realised the shadow connected to my feet.

I didn’t recognise my shadow, yet I see myself as being no different. How does THAT work???

In all honesty, I can’t quite get my brain around it.


Changes – so many changes

Hello. I didn’t think I had much to say this week, until I sat here and realised the number of little things that have changed, some are noticeable, others not so much…

Chaps, you might want to stop reading now. As I said to my husband yesterday, changes are happening that he simply won’t understand. He insisted he would, and I should tell him – I did, he didn’t understand, an argument nearly started and I ended up saying “SEE! I TOLD YOU YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND”. At which point, he gave up…haha

My Fitness Pal doesn’t understand either – it yells at me that I’m not eating enough – lol!

So, changes. I started the gym a couple of weeks ago, I hate the gym. I really do. I said this to the training chap who had the misfortune of being lumbered with sorting a program for me. He, to his credit, has done me one I can not only tolerate, but nearly enjoy. Nearly. He told me exactly the benefits each exercise would have and why, in words of one syllable, and today I even went on my own, without my protection of my husband.


My knickers are too big. I spend half my time sticking my hand down my trousers to pull them up. So today I bought 16s instead of 22s. Also on that note, when you’ve spent years tucking knickers under your belly apron, its rather odd to then realise that when you tense your (still pretty non-existent tummy muscles) you can “pop” the tummy apron over the top of the knickers…(thats the bit the husband didn’t “get”)

Thin folk don’t get it though. They don’t get it at all.

In all honesty, they don’t “get” any of it. No matter how much they think they do.

And no, just because you ate an extra sandwich and need to lose 0.2lb, you don’t “understand what I’m going through”. And with a BMI of 26, you won’t qualify for the “so easy solution of the surgery you’ve had”