The Masquerade

Quiet.  That’s what I have.
Quiet that makes the sound of my disappointment so very deafening.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.


If you promise forever, it should mean forever.
If you say they’ll be the only one, then they should be the only one.
If you tell someone that this will be their last first kiss, then they should never have to taste the bitterness of another first kiss, on someone else’s lips.
If you promise forever,
Shouldn’t it mean forever?


Now the silence roars in my ears,
The plans I had, the dreams I was supposed to fulfil…stolen from me.
Sometimes the darkness of insecurity and self-loathing engulfs me. I despise myself.
Questioning one’s worth is easy when someone has made it so abundantly clear that they did not value you.


But there, in the distance I see it,
Just a pinprick in the black, but most certainly there.
It twinkles like a distant star, so small and yet… quite dazzling.

It is the comforting and supporting light of friendships past and present,
I know it has always been there, but recently I’ve ignored it. 
Turned away from it, so as not to shatter the illusion I have created. 
The show of joviality…the masquerade.
I’ve chosen to hide, and seek solace here alone, in the cold and deafening dark.  One of many mistakes I’ve made.


If I reach out, I might be able to touch it, to feel it’s warmth on my fingertips,
It might not be too late? 
I won’t let it be too late.
I won’t let those broken promises define me, and I will not lose faith.
My dreams are still mine to pursue.


It wasn’t supposed to be this way,
But it is…and I will learn to thrive in this reality,
That will be my forever.

_______________________________________________

 

Tonight I was clearing out some old paperwork and came across this in a notebook.  I don’t even remember writing it, but I’m guessing it can’t have been long after my divorce.  Being quite a cheery sort, I was in two minds whether or not to post it, as let’s be honest; it’s a little depressing in places!  However, reading it tonight I realised I do seem to withdraw like this every now and then.  Finding this came at the right time I think, because the approach to Christmas is probably the most difficult for me.  It’s a time for families, and it’s always a painful reminder of things I do not, and may never have.

 

One thing I will always have however, are my friends.  My wonderful friends, who saw the value in me, where he (and other men) have not. 

My amazing friends, who look at me and see the person I am, rather than the dress size I wear.

My beautiful friends. 

…and on a slighty lighter note:

 

 

There was a young man from Seville,

Who swallowed an atomic pill,

His head imploded,

His arse exploded,

And they found his balls in Brazil!

Spin When You're Winning!

This time last month I'd just met a guy who changed all the rules for me. After 6 years of singledom, relationships I wasn't really invested in and dates with (quite frankly) some complete weirdos, I'd met a man that gave me butterflies, and I let myself fall quickly and hard for him...not something I've let myself do since I was 17! Now I'm sat here feeling foolish for letting my feelings get the better of me, because as it turns out, I'm not the one for him by all accounts. (Typical)  Now don't get me wrong, I don't regret taking that chance with my heart, even though at the moment it feels like he's put it in a blender...but there's nothing like getting ditched to make you feel you need to get out and do something that no one would expect you to do...so at 11:30 yesterday morning, I went to...a pole dancing class.

See. I told you...unexpected. I mean who really wants to see a 33 year old chubby girl blundering her way round a pole? Through years of doing shows, and way too many drunken nights out, those of you who know me will agree when I say I have absolutely no coordination when it comes to dancing.  But I thought, sod it!  I wanted to do it (I mean how uncoordinated can you be with an inanimate object?) and I'm really thrilled I did! 

Bliss dance studio in Nuneaton is owned by dance and fitness instructor Amanda Lewis.  The taster class I attended offered complete pole novices the opportunity to get up close and personal with that intimidating rod of chrome in the safety of a group session, filled with giggles, grimaces of concentration and the odd bout of cramp induced shrieking. 

Amanda told us to be under no illusions...we were going to hurt for about ten days afterwards. As I sit here writing, the morning after, I can confirm that she was right...I can't lift my arms above my waist, which is proving tricky whenever I want to make myself a cuppa!  But after buddying up with a lovely girl called Kay, I felt confident that the bumps, bruises and aches would be worth it, because whilst I felt like I'd done an hour in the gym, I've definitely never giggled as much in the gym. I've also never received as much encouragement and support from my fellow gym goers as I received from the lovely Kay and Amanda.
 
The session started with eight women of varying ages, shapes, and sizes, nervously eyeing up the five fixed poles in the main dance studio at Bliss. All of us were sneaking glances at each other, trying to work out which of us would be naturally adept and make the rest of us look as uncoordinated as Bridget Jones coming down the fireman's pole. As it turned out, none of us were naturals. It seems that getting good at this actually requires hard work, commitment, and a mega f**ktonne of upper body strength.

Amanda started us with a warm up, designed to loosen up our bodies, but also break the ice between us all and help us relax into the session. By now I'm fairly sure all of us were wondering why we'd signed up for this, but we weren't given the chance to run, as we were instantly coached on some basic spins, and even a graceful way in which to get ourselves off the floor.
 
My most humiliating move was a simple act of holding the pole, and just hanging off it. No spins, just hang with your heels brought up towards your booty. It sounds easy but if your hands aren't used to gripping and holding your entire body weight, what you actually get is an excruciatingly slow, awkward, squeaky slide to the bottom of the pole, punctuated my noises made through gritted teeth as you try to tighten your grip and halt your descent. (Be assured...gravity will always win eventually!). 


My best move was called the fireman spin, which essentially is a spin which you walk into (to get the momentum for your spin) and as you do, you lift both legs so that the pole is between your legs, just above your knees, and you spin down to the bottom of the pole.  I was surprised at my ability to execute this move, but I have to admit I think it was the very inelegant way in which I got back off the floor that prompted Amanda to show us how to exit out moves in a more attractive way!!

I honestly had so much fun, and for a full hour, I didn't so much as even think about my pulverised heart and wounded pride. It was the distraction I needed, and given that you can burn up to 300kcal per hour, it seems like it might be a great alternative to the gym, and will actively target all of the areas I want to tone up (arms, abs, legs).  My muscles are screaming at me this morning, so I know I've given them a good work over!

There's a 50% offer on for new clients who sign up for September, which seems like too much of a good offer to miss, so I've just signed up! The offer will book up quickly though so if you fancy a go yourself (or just want to watch me make a tit of myself), then visit their website: www.blissdancefit.co.uk

Life, The Universe and Everything

I love my new job.  People seem genuinely surprised every time they ask me how I am, as I now always have something positive to say.  They look stumped when I gush about how much I’m loving life, as if they simply hadn’t prepared themselves for the conversation to take that turn.  At first that upset me...It made me realise I’d spent the last few years being a miserable bitch, wondering why good things were happening to everyone else, and never to me.  Now though I look at things in a different light.

I suppose I’ve always been a dreamer, but I’ve rarely been able to fulfill those dreams.  I haven’t had the conviction to really put the hard work into whatever has been required of me, to achieve the goals I’ve set myself.  It’s not an uncommon problem; many of us will set ourselves New Year’s resolutions which never come to fruition.  I’ve never spent much time wondering why that is, I’ve simply focused on the fact that it’s another one of those things I’ve let myself down on.

A colleague recently gave me a DVD to watch called The Secret, she insisted I watch it as it was her “go to” DVD whenever she needed a lift.  When I started watching it, I admit the first few minutes elicited an eye-roll or two from me, as I realised this wasn’t a heart warming rom-com or drama, but...well...it was a self help DVD...or at least what I imagine a self help book would be like if it was turned into a DVD.  It talked about The Laws of Attraction and how the universe will conspire to bring us what we focus on, be it good or bad.  The power of thought and feeling alone can bring you everything your heart desires, but also if you focus on the negatives; it can bring you those as well!

Now my brother’s and I have discussed religion at great length in the past (a subject that as a rule I steer clear of with anyone else).  Despite being raised in the Catholic faith in our early years, and educated in Catholic schools, my brothers have all ended up staunch atheists.  They scoff at the idea of organised religion and the idea of an omnipotent deity. 

 

 I on the other hand have remained fairly agnostic.  I can see why people like to have faith, and I would never dream of telling someone their beliefs are wrong.  For my mind I have always felt that I just don’t know.  My reasoning for this has always been that whilst I find the idea of God sitting up there looking down on us, shaking his head and judging us all decidedly unrealistic, I've never ruled the guy out 100% because there have been a few things in my life that I have prayed for...and when I have...I have been given them (spooky).

The first thing I remember praying for was for my dad to get custody of my brothers and me when I was about ten years old.  I hated boarding school and desperately wanted him to be granted full custody so that we could live with him and attend a normal school, where I’d be able to go home every evening.  Every night I would lie in bed with my hands clasped together and my eyes clamped shut, and I prayed and bargained with the mysterious guy up in the clouds to grant me my wish.  When I was eleven we left boarding school to move in with our dad.  My prayer had been answered.

The second thing I prayed for was for my friend Rebecca to find her Mr Right.  I’ve never had any worries about any of my friends finding their soul mates, and starting the families they all dream of having.  With Rebecca though, I prayed for the timing of her “moment”.  I honestly worried that she’d started convincing herself it would be okay if she had to go it alone, and that she’d started closing herself off to the idea of meeting someone. I prayed hard that her time would come sooner rather than later.  Now she has a beautiful baby boy, and gets married next March.  I get so emotional over Rebecca’s little bundle of joy...from the moment she announced her pregnancy, through to the day he arrived (way too early) on the planet, and even now when I look at him just chilling out on his play mat.  I’m not an emotional woman, so all I can think is that it’s because of how hard I had hoped and longed for him and his daddy to arrive in Rebecca’s life and it just gets me a little choked.

The DVD I watched talks about getting what you project through thoughts and feelings.  For instance if you are troubled by debt and you think and pray to get out of debt, then your focus is on the debt, so all you’ll get back from the universe is more debt.  However if you think and pray for wealth, then the universe will conspire to bring you wealth, for instance through an unexpected windfall, or a better paid job that allows you to dig yourself out of that hole.  When I think about my new job, and how I decided that I wanted to move into training, I focused on how I was going to do it, and how to go about re-training so that I could move into my chosen career. I never focused on the negative.  I was determined that I would get there somehow, and whilst I never prayed for it, I longed for it, and out of the blue one day, I got a call from the company I work for, who happened to have a CV that I’d sent through speculatively more than a year previously.

Could it be that the universe, conspired to give me a route into my dream job?  I hadn't prayed for it, I'd simply planned for it to happen.  If that’s true then surely I answered my own prayers before too?  The idea is that because I’m intrinsically linked to this earth, and this universe I took control of my own future and the universe just gave me a helping hand.  Religion and weird self help DVD's aside (!!), I think I kinda like the idea that we carve our own paths through life, and that faith in ourselves and our own abilities could bring real inner peace.  It makes me hopeful for all the other things I want in life.  Also - Just think – what could we achieve as a race with all that positive thinking? It's a bit deep for a Sunday evening, but it's something for you to think on people. Dream big and dream happy!

Get Back In Your Box Beyonce!

I’m now in month three at my new job.  Owing to the fact that, like me, some of them are smokers, there are a couple of my colleagues who have had the pleasure of experiencing what I like to call “comfortable me”...that doesn’t mean I’ve farted in front of them or spent a few obvious moments fishing my knickers out of my arse in an unladylike fashion (I’m not an animal!)...but it does mean that they’ve seen me at the height of my nicotine high, whereby I have relaxed enough around them to stop thinking before I speak and just say what’s on my mind. 

I'm not sure that these guys can be called the lucky ones, but they have witnessed me at my most natural, however for most of us, we tend to keep this side of us hidden until we're assured of acceptance from our new co-workers.  In fact for most of us, when we start a new job, we plan for our first real social engagement with colleagues as this is more often than not, when we'll let our real persona's loose.  Nine times out of ten we know it’s going to be the Christmas party, and that’s where we’ll drink, let our inhibitions go and show our new work friends (oooh, fwiend...work fwiend!) our true colours.  That’s what I’d planned for anyway, unfortunately, best laid plans, and all that...

Last week a social event was organised for my department.  It was earlier than planned (as I was banking on the Christmas do), however I had a strategy!  The company was very kindly paying for my room, and I worked out that I could just about afford two glasses of wine at hotel prices, before I’d have to switch to the diet cokes.  I’d never make a fool of myself on two glasses of vino, but it would be enough to loosen me up, and show my new work pals how fun I was.  It was not to be though, as upon arrival at the hotel, it quickly became apparent, that the company had also shelled out for a free bar. 

Shit.

Now I can resist anything but temptation, and after a large glass of Chardonnay I was loosening up nicely, just in time for the buffet and pub quiz that had been organised.   

Any rules I’d set myself in terms of “just two glasses” however were quickly forgotten in favour of the warm squishy feelings that accompany intoxication, and I’m not going to lie...I lost count of how many glasses I actually had.  This concerns me slightly, as at my last workplace I gained the nickname Charlotte Church.  I didn’t understand it for quite a while, and it was eventually explained to me...apparently after a couple of drinks I get a bit uncouth and think I can sing.  In all fairness I can actually hold a tune, so if drunken singing had been the order of the evening, then I wouldn’t have been worried...unfortunately reality was much worse than that.

I danced.

Now anyone who knows me, knows that I am not coordinated, and dancing is definitely not my forte, however with enough alcohol I do believe I can dance like Beyonce, and I will insist on demonstrating this.  I don’t know what time I arrived on the dance floor, and I don’t know what time I left it...but I do know that the next day my knees were struggling to keep me upright and mobile, so I think it’s safe to assume that I was either a) there for a long while, or b) slut dropping.  (I really hope it was the former!)

Now I could get hung up on worrying that I made a bit of a tit of myself (all the photographic evidence suggests a number of people were actually positioned to ensure I stayed on my feet), but actually I’m pretty sure I make more of an arse of myself when I open my mouth mid-nicotine-high...so instead I’m focusing on the fact that there are about six people who I see in passing around the workplace, that now stop to say hello and have a conversation with me.  It seems the Chardonnay has helped me network a little and I figure, if I had really been that embarrassing, those people would be avoiding me like the plague rather than saying hello.  Comfortable “me” made an appearance, and I haven’t been sacked...so perhaps I should just be happy that I’m the way I am, rather than wondering whether I’m a bit “too much” and if I should tone it down when I’m in public.

I probably shouldn’t dance again though.

Well...at least not until I’ve really perfected my running man.

Mum's The Word

I knew as soon as my mum asked the question, where it was leading.  She's been on holiday for the last couple of weeks so it's been a while since we had a catch up.  Usually if I go for more that three days without seeing or speaking to her, she assumes I've either fallen out with her, or I've perished in a tragic domestic accident (drama queen).  I popped round this evening on my way home from work to show her that I was indeed still alive, and was not in fact dead at the bottom of my stairs, half eaten by Alsatians. Mum sometimes forgets that I live with a friend, who, (if she found me like this) would probably contact her to inform her of my unfortunate and untimely demise.  

Now any single thirty-something woman will know when their mother is preparing to ask them about their love life, because their faces give them away, usually three to four sentences before they actually change the subject in that direction.  They think they've managed to assume an air of benign disinterest as they start their "innocent" questioning, but in fact they're about as subtle as Dame Maggie Smith's Dowager Countess in Downton Abbey.

"So, have you been down to The Arms recently...?"
"I was there briefly on Saturday"
"Because there always seem to be so many men in there"
"It's a pub mum...they have an unlimited supply of beer, it's bound to attract men"
"You should go down next weekend..."
"Because there are men there?"
"Yes, lots of them."
"Mum, whilst admittedly important - having a penis is not the only thing on my 'potential future partner' wishlist...do you think we could dream a little bigger for me please?" 

The fact she mentioned this at all though, suggests that she's getting itchy feet about my single status.  Parents like to fix things, and now that I've got my career pointing in the right direction, she clearly feels it's time I sorted out my non existent love life.  This happens every now and then, and to make her feel better (shut her up) I've let her set me up on the odd date.  In all fairness, she's actually got quite good taste in men - she married my dad after all, and despite the fact that I'm insanely fussy about the type of guy I find attractive, the last one she set me up with was actually quite nice...but she hasn't always hit the mark.  

Following a family gathering at my aunt's one year, she tried to point me towards my aunt's cousin.  She spent a lot of time justifying it on the basis that my aunt is adopted, and only related to my mum through marriage, and as my mum is actually my step-mum there was absolutely no blood link between the cousin and I. She was also unfazed by the fact that the poor guy was terminally ill.  Whilst she clearly felt she could potentially be bringing joy and happiness to the chap's final years, I couldn't help but feel we'd hit rock bottom on the set-up front, if she was considering short-term relationships with family members (however tenuous) as viable prospects for her only daughter.

Don't get me wrong, I know I'm a pain in the arse when it comes to men.  I can't even begin to tell you the earache I got from the girls when I ditched a guy after three dates because our priorities were fundamentally misaligned.  (He brought "romantic" blowing bubbles to a picnic but forgot to pack the cheeseboard...clearly that was never going to work!)  I'm attracted to a certain type of man, I'm not at all driven by looks.  I like a guy who's nice, but not "nice".  I like a man who's not afraid to tell me to shut up when I need to pipe down.  A man who is confident enough to stand up for his opinions and enough of a gentleman to accept that I may have a few of my own.  A man observant enough to recognise when I'm trying to manipulate him, but bright enough to let me get away with it seventy percent of the time.  I like these qualities because these kind of men bring out the best in me...It's just that finding one like this, who also likes you back is tricky business.   

Bless my mum though, I love that she's always trying to find me the best guy out there - but if there's one thing I know, it's that I'll only be happy if I find a guy that makes me the best girl...but I don't hold out much hope of finding him down at The Attleborough Arms on a Saturday night!

What Shall We Do With A Drunken Sailor?

Well hello, and welcome to my new and improved blog (I hope you all enjoy the revamped look)... Firstly I'll apologise, as it's been waaaay too long since I last put perfectly manicured nails to keys to let you know what's going on in my life...as always, there's Never A Dull Day in my world!

As many of you are aware, I am thrilled to say, that after spending the last two years slogging my guts out working in customer service at a car dealership, I finally managed to find an in-road into corporate training, and started as a trainee trainer at the national learning centre for a mahoosive automotive group at the beginning of July.  I'm not going to lie to you, the day I got the phone call confirming the job offer, I may have done a teeny little wee in my pants....that's how happy I was.

So what does that mean for me? (I hear you ask)...well essentially at the moment I'm cramming my tiny little brain full of as much information as possible...course content, delivery style, reigning in the none PC overtones that I've become accustomed to through working alongside a workshop full of blokes who think it's okay to ask "are you on your period or something?" any time you disagree with them...and making new friends.

The friends thing is rather important to me.  Working at a dealerships, you find most people are "local". It's not the kind of job you'd commute long distances for, therefore on a Friday after work, everyone heads down to THE local for a few drinks, and you end up getting to know each other pretty well.  In my new job though, people travel in from far and wide.  I live in Nuneaton and I'm now commuting to Milton Keynes (52 miles away), some of the other trainers travel in from London, Leicestershire and even Gloucester!  It stands to reason therefore that no'one really hangs around on a Friday afternoon to go for a social after work, as they all need to get home at a reasonable hour.  (I'm not quite ready to give up "pub-Friday" though, so I've been catching up with my old dealership pals on a Friday after work.)  

It's also quite an isolated job, in as much as you see your colleagues first thing in the office, and at lunch we all sit together for a natter, but the rest of the time, you're training with up to 15 delegates who might be with you for one or two days, but aren't your co-workers. Building lasting relationships with my colleagues is even more important to me though, because at the beginning of next year, I plan to relocate to Milton Keynes (MK) and leave all of my wonderful "home" friends behind.

I've been looking for an excuse to escape this small town (mainly because I've slept with too many of it's occupants, and Nuneaton's gene pool needs a little more chlorine as it is!) and my new career gives me the perfect excuse.  This weekend it struck me though...most people would be intimidated by the idea of making new friends, but I'm not.  Obviously because I'm awesome and anyone who meets me adores me (eh-hem), but also because I have a secret.  The secret is Meet Up.

I've mentioned it before, but I'm going to endorse it again - www.meetup.com is a fantastic way to meet new people in your area, through organised events...anything from book clubs, to pub crawls, and rambles to festivals.  This weekend I spent my Sunday trawling lazily down the canals from Warwick to Leamington, on a narrow boat, for a nautical themed birthday party of a friend I've made through attending meet-ups in the Leamington area.  Happy Birthday Nicki!!  It was a brilliant day, there was sun, fancy dress, food, drink and various steering mishaps which made us rather unpopular with the local narrow boat community, but we had a great time, and that is the point.

I've met this great bunch of people through the Meet Up site here in my local area...so when it comes to moving to MK, I know exactly where to go to form another social circle, and make friends in the area.  It's a fantastic site, and the events are all organised by the members themselves, so if you've just moved to an area, or (if like me) your mates are all boring "smug marrieds" that only go out as (shudder) "couples", give it a go.  I've made a few lovely mates, and I know I'll be making some more come the new year.

Run For Your Life

Well this is it. I'm now running in the evenings. Gone are the 5am get-ups, and the fresh bracing morning air that threatens to strangle me when I'm already struggling to move and breathe at the same time. Now they've been replaced by...public running humiliation.

Running in the mornings has it's drawbacks, but the big positive is that there are few people around to see you do it.  Having spent the last few weeks steadily building from 1.8km to 5.3km three times a week, I have noticed the effect running has on my body. I'll be honest, it's not particularly pretty. As a boobilicious lady I know all too well how important a sports bra is if I want to avoid black eyes, but no'one warned me about my arse. My arse wobbles! And I'm not just talking about a gentle jiggle, I'm talking about my arse cheeks often falling out of rhythm with each other and moving independently with their wobbles, creating a ripple (tidal wave) effect which must be quite a spectacle if you're behind me! Now I haven't looked into it, but I don't think I've ever seen sports knickers for "batty-support" so at the moment I'm contemplating running in my Spanx. My only consolation is that hopefully by running, I'll start to tone up my wobbly bum!

I've also discovered that bizarrely, I don't seem to move my upper body when I run. I only spotted this by running in the light of the street lamps and catching a glance at my shadow. I don't appear to pump my arms like normal runners. I just hold them loosely in front of me, in a manner akin to a 70yr old power walker.

Finally I think I make a squishy face when I run. Like I'm wincing and in pain. I'm not...well obviously I feel like I'm dying but not in a "someone's just trodden on my toe" way...so why do I keep having the physically relax my face? I might not be doing it all the time I suppose (I don't exactly carry a mirror with me to check) and I only discovered it when I jogged past a guy with his kid and they both did a double take and seemed to physically recoil from my pained expression. Nevertheless though, it all stacks up and makes me aware of the fact that I am not a carefree or graceful runner to watch!  For this reason it has always been preferable from a self concious point of view, to jog when no'one else is about.

All this said though, last week I manned up and opted for an evening run, and I'm pleased to say that now I have the focus of just trying to ensure I get all the way round without stopping (keeling over), I'm less inclined to care about what people might think when they see me. It's a real milestone for me, as I've always been concious of how people perceive me and the extra padding I've been carrying. Perhaps, when my efforts start to be rewarded, the woman at the bus stop that I tend to pass on my way round will notice less of a wobble from my arse as I fly past her...and if I'm lucky my face might start to naturally relax and I can stop accidentally scaring small children. I suppose only time will tell.