Posted in About today

Just the way I’m feeling

I’m a big fan of words, and I don’t usually believe all that stuff about ‘pictures being worth a thousand words’ but I’m making an exception today because all my words are jumbled up with my thoughts and I can’t say it better than this:

Love, WeeGee xxx

Posted in Some thoughts about my journey

The long and the short of it

I’ve had to write two versions of today’s post – a long version and a short version.

I wrote the long version first and then I thought ‘Crikey*, what a jolly* miserable post that is, it’ll probably bore the arse** off everyone’ so I wrote the short version too so you could still get the gist even if the long one bored the arse off you and you had to stop reading it in order to work out how to re-attach your (probably lovely) arse to your (definitely lovely) self…

The short version

The short version starts with this video:

And then goes something like this:

Boo hoo. Woe is me. Boo-bloody-hoo. I hate myself and I want a pie. Sob sob. The end. Sob.

The long version

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin….

I thought I’d start at the end today, just for a bit of a change. I know that it’s conventional to do the beginning, followed by the middle, followed by the end but this is a blog about my broken brain and today it’s the end that is at the front of the thought queue so that’s where I’m starting.

The end is this: None of this was supposed to happen. My life has taken me to the point at which I can only decide that this is all wrong, that this isn’t what I wanted and that this can’t possibly be what was supposed to happen even though it did. Now what?

Let’s have a song while I make my mind up:

I haven’t made my mind up yet. Oh bums.

One of the things I tell myself, over and over again is that the fact that I’m mental is the least interesting thing about me. Sure it means that from time to time I do some interesting things, but aside from all the mental madness stuff I’m essentially a proper person who cares about stuff.

Except I’m not; it’s a lie –  I’m not real or proper and if you could look into my heart the only thing you would see would be more nothing that you ever thought imaginable. Nothing is probably the only thing on earth that you can’t bring yourself to care about***.

If I’m not a proper person, the only things that are left are the impressive**** collection of ‘disorders’ I have managed to collect over the years. That’s all I am now, disordered and broken and that’s all I can be, because it is all there is to me. Boo hoo, sob sob, boo-bloody-hoo, poor me.

It’ll probably come to no surprise to you that I live alone. It certainly comes as no surprise to me. I don’t want to live alone, in fact I mostly hate it but how can you be so broken and share it with someone? Some things are better done in private, especially being mental. The thing is I’m always going to be mental. There isn’t a magic wand or a make-it-all better pill so I know that I’ll always be mental and it follows that I’ll always be alone. But I don’t want to be alone. Cards on the table? I just want somebody to save me. I can’t care about myself and I can’t take care of myself – I only really work in relation to other people. I wasn’t built to be alone, even though being alone is the only logical outcome of my condition.

Nobody is coming to save me. I don’t know how to save myself. This wasn’t what I wanted to happen.

Boo hoo, sob sob.

Love from WeeGee (once again hoping tomorrow is better) xx

*Yes. That’s actually how I talk. You know I’m British right?!

**In America I believe you say ‘ass’ which is fine by me even if it does make me think of a donkey and cause impossible and disturbing images to form in my head

***Except for Margaret Thatcher and possibly, the Eurovision Song Contest

****I don’t really think of it as impressive, but you know what I mean

Posted in Some thoughts about my journey

Careful what you say…

I haven’t really written a proper post for ages, and that’s no accident. There’s been an awful lot of nonsense in my head lately* and to counter it, I’ve stuck my head in the sand and gone about hiding in awards posts and games of tag. The thing is whilst it’s one thing to spend your time in the real world pretending that everything is okay, it’s just plain daft to attempt to hide the extent of your broken brain in a blog that you keep to document your journey with a broken brain. I suppose the only person I’m cheating is myself….

Something went wrong – somebody said something to me that they oughtn’t to have said. If they’d cared at all they wouldn’t have said it which means not only do I have to struggle with the fall out of what they said, but that I also have to contemplate the fact that they, along with (and, this is about my broken brain) everyone else I know simply doesn’t care.

So – you know I’m doing this 10,000 steps challenge? It was going really well and people were being incredibly generous** and I was just about proud of myself. And then Mrs Black and White popped up to say:

“And how did you get yourself involved with this? You’ll need to eat like a horse not to lose any weight”

Boom! End of feeling proud of myself.

I started to feel apologetic. Like I’d let her down because she clearly thought it was a bad idea and at the end of the day, I just want to please people and most of all her. Then I felt stupid…. what have I got myself involved with, what a ridiculous idea? Then I felt unloved because surely, for once in her life somebody who had seen EVERYTHING I’d been through could bite her tongue and say ‘good luck’ even if she thought it was a bad idea. And then, and this is the worst thing of all, I went a bit weird about food – as if to prove her right.

I am recovering from an eating disorder – which is to say that I have (more or less) maintained a healthy weight for EIGHT years having once almost starved myself to death. I don’t count calories, nor weigh myself. Heck I don’t even think about eating. I just do it when I’m hungry. But when it comes to food, I’m vulnerable. I guess I always will be and I hope I will always be brave enough to keep on doing the right thing however hard it gets: which is why the comment hurt so much.

My biggest fear in life is going back to where I was. I don’t need to think about it. I don’t need to remember. I need keep on keeping on. I don’t need the people who are supposed to care reminding me of who I used to be….. And this person really should have known better. It was just unkind to make something positive into a great big fear of being unwell.

From one little comment comes a spectacular unravelling. That’s the way things go around here. It doesn’t take much for me to unravel because I’m fragile. When you’re fragile people have to be very careful about what they say and do which in the end means that people don’t bother because it’s easier not to bother than to be careful.

I shouldn’t let it get to me. I know that, but it isn’t that simple in my head – I don’t get to decide what bothers me and what doesn’t; the way I feel just happens and most of the time I can’t cope with the outcome. WeeGee doesn’t do feelings well

*Yes – even more nonsense than normal

**I’ve raised £235 so far. £15 more and I get a certificate from Mind!

Posted in Welcome to my world

A post about nothing followed by a lame joke

I hope you won’t mind but I really need to get this out of my head. I’ve been swimming around in it for a few days now and I’m tired. Before I go any further I should say that this is a post about suicidal feelings. Reading about suicidal feelings isn’t everybody’s cup of tea so you may prefer to sit this one out.

Let me be frank* I wish I was dead but, just to muddy the waters, I also don’t want to wind up dead. Makes perfect sense, eh?

For a very long time I’ve had a strong feeling that I’m not going to live to be an old person. I don’t know where it comes from or when it started I just know that it’s there and that it sits in my head. It’s one of the many things on the list of things that Wee Gee will never do for one reason or another**. I mentioned it to Mr Friendly once but he just thought it was a) sad and b) silly. It’s one of those residual feelings that never really goes away. And then I have a few days like the few days just past and it becomes clear to me that it isn’t silly at all because the longer I live, the more likely it is that I won’t live to be an old person. And yes, I know that statement makes no sense whatsoever except in my head.

I don’t often think about suicide – I sometimes go to bed willing myself not to wake up, but that’s a different thing altogether – and I don’t make plans to take my own life. By all accounts that should mean that everything is fine and dandy but it doesn’t.

The thing is it doesn’t matter that I don’t think about it, plan to do it, or want to do it; what matters is that once in a while I just snap and decide to try and do it. Thus far I have always been okay but one of these days I’m going to wake up dead and to say that would be an unmitigated disaster is something of an understatement.

Saturday was one of those days. It was a day of nothing – you know the days when nothing matters, nothing makes sense and everything feels like nothing? Nothing is the thing that I struggle to deal with the most of all – it’s unspeakably heavy and just as loud. Nothing is the reason that I do so many of the things I do to hurt myself and is the thing that sends me into hiding. Some people seem to think that having nothing on your mind is a good thing, but I wonder if those people really understand what nothing feels like? Waking up in the morning to find that everything that was your head yesterday – the little plans, the promises you make to yourself, the things you like, the stuff you care about – has fallen into a giant hole of nothingness taking you with it is no fun at all.

I’ve tried very hard to work out where nothing comes from and what happens to make it rise up and take over but I just can’t figure it out. Sometimes I think there must be a little chink of nothing at the heart of me that has to come up for air every so often, that I’m simply built around nothing and that I am empty at my core even if I pretend not to be. That’s when I jump off the cliff because I might get well enough to get out of bed without thinking about it, to banish the maddies, the jitters, fanatical food stuff and all the other crazy nonsense but I’ll never get well enough to fill the nothing up and it’s the nothing I can’t live with.

I don’t know when or why nothing is going to strike which makes it hard to go about keeping myself as safe. I’ve got my safety plan and I try to follow it to the letter but, in the grip of nothing I find it quite easy to stray from the plan and end up in all kinds of trouble. Bottom line of all this is that I’m mostly terrified of myself which is absolutely exhausting. I’m afraid I’m going to go and do something that I won’t live to regret without even meaning to do it.

Phew. It’s all getting a bit heavy here. Somebody should tell a joke…… Okay, I’ll do it: Q What’s invisible and smells of carrots? A. Rabbit farts. Boom boom {hangs head in shame}

Meanwhile in other news I slept right through until 6am this morning and I worked out that I spend about £300 a year on purchasing beverages from the coffee bar at work today. Nothing further to add save that I did squeeze a couple of asterisks in, so things must be looking up despite the rather gloomy nature of this post.  Oh. And I’m writing this in my lunch hour at FOUR O’CLOCK IN THE AFTERNOON.

Sorry about this one folks – the next will be better, promise.

Take care, Wee Gee x


*Whenever someone says that I can’t resist saying ‘okay… who shall I be’?

**Other things on the list of things Wee Gee will never do: get married, have children, understand why anyone would voluntarily eat a mushroom

Posted in About today

Down with the kids

I’m a little lacking in inspiration today. Truth told, I’ve been a little bit lacking in inspiration all weekend which is why I’ve had nothing to say for myself. Everything’s feeling flat and empty for me at the moment, like someone stole my brain and replaced it with cotton wool. I bet you can’t wait to read this one.

What can I tell you about this weekend then? I have continued to wake up at ridiculous o’clock, in fact, I’ve now seen 4am 4 days running. Sadly I haven’t been leading the kind of rock ‘n roll life that statement might imply – it’s more a case of being up with the mentals than being down with the kids. How life changes…. The thing about four o’clock in the morning is that there isn’t actually anything to do. I guess that’s why most people have the good sense to be asleep. Still, to put a positive spin on it I have used the time wisely and read the Internet. All of it.

Who knows what this waking up at ridiculous o’clock is all about. I guess it must be the medication which is also causing me to have some particularly vivid dreams – I feel like it really happened, and it’s mundane enough to have really happened so at the moment I have this odd sensation that I can’t be sure what actually happened. Does that make sense? Anyway, as far as I can tell I appear to be achieving a whole new level of dementedness that I didn’t even know existed.

Did I mention that the jitters have mostly passed? Well they have. The only time I ‘go a bit weird’ now is when someone creeps up on me, which happens reasonably often. It’s not that people are in the habit of deliberately creeping up on me, it’s just that I work in a very long office with my back to the door so people often appear without me noticing them on the approach. And then I jump right out of my skin and squeal in a comedy fashion. Nevertheless I’m glad to be mostly rid of the jitters  – I find that being flat and empty is much easier to manage than all that bonkers jittery stuff.

Saturday was a gruesome day for me. I spent the evening teetering on the edge of the cliff thinking about jumping off. I think my brain is trying to murder me which is a royal pain in the backside because I don’t especially want to be dead. Gawd only knows what I’ve done to deserve this from something which, by rights, should be fairly attached to the idea of me not being dead but there you go. The main point is that I didn’t wake up dead on Sunday so I make that Wee Gee: 1 Brain: 0. Round two will doubtless follow at an unspecified interval. Pah!

Sunday was about putting things back together after Saturday, buying a replacement hairdryer after my existing went pop and started making a horrid burning smell and watching a soccerball match that I didn’t care about because a) I’m Scottish and b) I just didn’t.

It’s Monday today and Project Rubbish has kicked off in more ways than one. Turns out The Man Who Knows is not the project sponsor and he does not like it one bit, primarily because he is The Man Who Knows who knows everything about everything. He’s sulking and refusing to talk to anyone at the moment which makes this whole working together thing difficult to achieve. What a giant arsehole. He is so getting a poke in the eye some time soon.

Meanwhile in other news I think somebody lied to me on Saturday – a pause before an answer and then a comment later on that didn’t stack up. This person had no reason to lie to me and, more to the point, I have no reason to care that they lied to me but they did lie and I do care which means I have to work out how I feel about it. I hate having to work out how I feel about stuff.

I’ve nothing further to add today save that I haven’t included a single asterisk in my post which is a shame. I’ve tried to remedy it, I really have, but I’m coming up with zilch. I guess that’s just the kind of day it is today.

Tatty bye

Wee Gee x

Posted in About today

This is really happening, isn’t it?

I don’t really like Radiohead anymore – I lost interest somewhere around OK Computer – but I do really like this song. I think it sounds like how I feel a lot of the time:

The line in the song that goes ‘this is really happening’ is a notion that strikes me every now and then, usually in the wee small hours when I can’t sleep and there’s nowhere to hide from all the things that are happening in my head. Sometimes I feel incredulous about it all because how very dare this be happening in my head, but most of the time I feel frightened because this is really happening and what if I can’t figure out how to make it quieten down again?

I had 11 whole years when I didn’t have to struggle very hard with myself. I had to struggle a little bit because I don’t think the voices* ever go away you just get better at answering them back, or ignoring them, or both. I think of my difficulties as a dark passenger** because they are always there at my side. I’ve carried my dark passenger everywhere I’ve ever been – sometimes it’s heavy and sometimes it isn’t so heavy; sometimes it’s almost silent and sometimes it’s very, very loud; sometimes it looks out the window as we travel and sometimes it takes over the driving.

For the past year or so my dark passenger has been in the driving seat and I’ve had to struggle very hard with myself. Compared to the 11 years where I wasn’t struggling much, the past year feels like it’s lasted for a lifetime. Sometimes, I get sick and tired of it all and I just wish that all the nonsense would disappear out of my head. Other times, I remember that it will never disappear completely and so I start to wonder what the point of struggling very hard with yourself just so you don’t have to struggle very hard with yourself is. Right now is one of those other times.

Today I feel a bit small and insignificant and, above all else, frightened. I’m wondering what would happen if I just stopped struggling and gave my brain over to the darkness. I don’t much like being in the dark, but I can’t help thinking it’d probably be a little easier on me.

Still, tomorrow I’ll be all brave again. Thoughts pass eventually because that is their way.

Wee Gee x



*I should point out to you that over the years I have learned that you need to be very careful when you’re talking about the ‘voices in your head’.

**If anyone watches Dexter, mine is not at all like that dark passenger – just for the avoidance of doubt!

Posted in About today

I did not see that one coming

Okay, so the first thing I should say is that this post discusses self harm. If you think that might put you in a dangerous place please look away now, because it’s important to everybody that everybody stays safe.

{Pause to allow people to look away now}*

The second thing to say is that I’m currently on step number three of the safety plan**. I used to have three ‘real’ people I could communicate with if I thought I was in a risky situation: Mr Wise, Mr Hilarious and Mr Friendly, but now I’ve added my blog to the list of ‘people it is safe to communicate with’. The aforementioned Mr’s*** are otherwise engaged, and (as daft as it sounds) I’m not in the right place for crisis intervention so I’m writing this post in an attempt to communicate all this crazy stuff out of my head.

{Pause for a few deep breaths}

Here’s what happened. I sat down to write a post (it’s a funny story about me at a party so I’ll probably get round to posting it another time) and then I had a nosebleed. A proper, massive, wouldn’t stop nosebleed.

I don’t think I’ve had a proper, massive, wouldn’t stop nosebleed since I was about twelve years old and although I know it should have been a tad distressing, I actually really liked it. I liked it because all that bright red blood on a white tissue felt like the most sensible, meaningful thing on earth and I thought to myself that if my nose stops bleeding there would still be lots of other ways to get back to the most sensible and meaningful thing on earth.

I haven’t cut myself since last November. I didn’t really remember doing it but the evidence suggested that I made a pretty serious attempt to actually cut one of my legs off. To be fair, that was an isolated incident and it’s a very long time since each morning has been about working out what I’d done the day before with reference to the bloody rags and sharp implements scattered around me. I was in an awful, painful place, I have some pretty hideous scars and would do anything, anything, anything to go back in time and make it not happen. So why should it make any sense whatsoever to think that slicing myself open and watching the blood ooze out is the answer to a question that I haven’t even worked out yet?

Nowadays, I tend to work on the assumption that I am a grown up, and that I have therefore found grown up, subtle ways to hurt myself. As if that’s some kind of achievement! I know it’s a load of blinking rubbish, because most grown-ups don’t spend any time what-so-bloody-ever thinking about hurting themselves. What’s this thing about hurting myself even more than I’m already hurting? What’s this thing about bright red blood on white tissues? Roar, roar and triple roar. Can I start again please?

I’m sorry if this one is a bit rambling, but it was more about getting thoughts out of my brain than achieving a coherent post…..

Meanwhile in other news I have managed three meals and a trip to the outside world today, and my cat has just about got used to the new voile panel in our flat. Oh. And I went to a party yesterday.

Take care, Wee Gee x

*I hope you won’t think I’m being flippant because I’m really not – it’s just my way.

**At the moment my number one mission in life is to be well enough to be able to cope without a safety plan.

***I know perfectly well that Mr’s is not an ideal use of the apostrophe, but according to the OED style guide it is acceptable to use an apostrophe to ensure clarity of meaning. If I’d put Mrs it would have looked like I meant a married lady person, rather than the plural of Mr. (What can I say? I’m the grammar police so I’m getting my alibi in early….)

Posted in About today

I am angry

If I knew my readers a little better I’d probably start off by swearing; really badly. But I really don’t want to offend anybody so I’ll keep the profanities for the cat (he doesn’t seem to mind). I don’t know what the matter with me is, apart from the fact that I’m grumpy – nothing has happened to make me particularly grumpy but then again I suppose even mentalists have normal off days. If you see what I mean.

Anyway, as far as I’m concerned the world can shut its mouth:

Apart from feeling a bit ‘boo to everything’ I’m doing pretty well  after the mahoosive ‘bit of a maddy’ on Wednesday. By the time I woke up on Thursday ‘no’ had quietened down and I was able to get myself through the motions once more. Fank gawd for that. Looking back there are a couple of reasons to be cheerful following my ‘moment’:

  1. I didn’t decide not to eat, despite being in hiding and feeling rotten
  2. I didn’t do myself a mischief, serious or otherwise
  3. It passed quite quickly
  4. I didn’t end up wandering around the outside world in my PJs raving at strangers

As is always the case with these things it could’ve been worse….

My appointment with the doctor today confirmed that the jitters are ‘almost certainly’ caused by the citalopram and that they should ‘pass in (an unspecified amount of) time’. That’s alright then. I’ll tell myself that next time I’m bouncing off the walls and considering jumping out the window*. Told you I was grumpy.

Meanwhile in other news, I sent an email today** and I’m off up to Nottingham for a few days with the folks tomorrow. It’ll be good to get out of London for a while and I’ve a few old friends to catch up with which is always cool.

Beyond that, I don’t have anything else to say for myself today but I wanted to make sure I posted something or it would have been the best part of a week before I did***.

That’s all from me folks.

Love (a rather grumpy but not in a mental way) Wee Gee x

* It’s okay. I only live on the first floor.

** I’ve been meaning to send it for ages – it’s a long story which I’ll no doubt tell in time

***If I left it that long I’d almost certainly give up and go all flaky.

Posted in About today

My brain is broken and I’d like to complain

I’ve been in hiding today which, having survived the bank holiday weekend without once going into hiding, was a bit of a blow. It has made me think that I’d like to swap my brain – if nothing else I’d at least like one that has the decency to decide to go into hiding when I’m expecting it to.

In the end, the dreaded bank holiday weekend wasn’t particularly dreadful. Save a touch of the jitters on Saturday and a couple of wobbles on Sunday afternoon I was gainfully occupied with various tasks and activities and suitably distracted. Get this, I even left the flat more times than had I intended to. I met up with Mr Brave on Sunday for brunch – it was good fun and we spent most of the time talking about the merits and de-merits of online dating sites (his were the merits and mine were the other). I also caught up with Mr Friendly over lunch on Tuesday which was equally nice, even if we did spend a considerable amount of the time talking about how much of a nutter I’ve been for the past year or so. Two social outings without me going flaky and cancelling is quite an achievement for me at the moment.

As an aside, I’ve had a couple of attacks of ‘the jitters’ over the past few days. I’m prone to worrying – it’s usually quite endearing if a little frustrating – but the jitters are like my usual worrying multiplied by a million or two. I’m putting this down to the medication which we’re* working to increase so I’m hoping it will pass soon. There’s quite enough lunacy in my life without ‘the jitters’ thank you very much. (It’s also quite embarrassing to jump right out of your skin if someone so much as looks at you unexpectedly.)

Anyway, back to the hiding. When I’m well** I probably go into hiding about once every two months or so. When things aren’t so good, it’s closer to once a fortnight. This isn’t at all ideal when you are somehow managing to hold down a full time job no matter how understanding your employer is. Still, that’s by the by. It happens and you move on; that there is my brave face.

I wake up every day feeling like I can’t face it but I almost always do face it – and I try to see this as a positive. I try to be glad that it’s only on the smallest minority of mornings that I wake up with a giant ‘no’ surrounding me. When ‘no’ is upon me, it doesn’t matter what I try to think or what bargains I do with myself ‘no’ booms out in the background and keeps me where I am.

Today I kept telling myself that at X o’clock I would do a, b and c but before I knew it already was X o’clock and I was telling myself that at Y o’clock I would do d, e and f. In the end I gave up even trying to make plans and decided to go to sleep because going to sleep is still the best way I’ve found of avoiding myself when I’m sick of the sight and sound of me. I often sleep the time away. I tell myself that I wouldn’t be able to sleep that much if I didn’t need to but I know in my heart that isn’t quite true…

I eventually made it out of bed proper at about 6pm, still shattered, still low and still a bit jittery. Unfortunately, as I tried to force myself to go about the motions I found myself in the midst of ‘a bit of a maddy’. It was an unexpected ‘bit of a maddy’ and I actually began to think that it was going to be a This Is It Maddy. I was convinced that my brain had finally given up on me and I was either going to have a TV style breakdown and end up wandering around the outside world in my PJs raving at strangers or that I was going to do myself a serious mischief. It made me smile when I wrote the bit about the TV breakdown but at the time, it really wasn’t very funny at all.

Thankfully Mr Wise phoned at just the right moment, talked me down and helped me make a plan. The plan was that I would cook a meal, take a shower and write a blog post. If I still find myself feeling a bit This Is It when he phones me in a little while I’m going to go to A&E and tell them I’m having a mental health crisis**** and he’s going to pick me up and take me away from it all in the morning.

Anyway. I’m calm now and I think my This Is It moment has passed. I’ve got a phone call with a mate lined up before bed as well as another chat with Mr Wise and I’m going to do two lists for tomorrow – one for if I make it to work and a back up one in case the ‘no’ is upon me again. I’ll be on the sleeping tablets again tonight. I try not to take them unless it is absolutely essential, but I think today definitely falls under the essential banner.

Brains are rubbish aren’t they? I’d, really really like a new one that doesn’t pull such cruel stunts on me, so, as I like writing complaint letters here is my attempt to get an exchange….

Dear God****,

I’ve given the matter considerable thought and I would now like to return my brain to you and exchange it for a better one. It’s not in especially good working order but as I have not tampered with it or damaged it in any way it must have been faulty when I got it. It is still in its original packaging although this is a little worn around the edges.

Love and kisses Wee Gee xx

*I say we although I really mean ‘they’ but not because I’m paranoid.

**Oh how I laughed.

***This is the final step of the safety plan but I still can’t quite imagine myself actually saying it. Do you know what I mean?!

****Or whatever other supreme being is the one responsible for looking out for me.

Posted in Some thoughts about my journey

All shapes and sizes

I’m not a very big person (I mean in stature, but sometimes I feel small in other ways too).

I’ve always been a not very big person – in part that’s just the way I’m built and in part that’s because I struggle with food.  I struggle with food because I spent a fair few years of my life on a starvation diet in the misguided belief that I rather wanted to disappear completely. Thankfully, I don’t struggle with food nearly as much as I used to and I nearly always eat enough of it every day. In essence I’ve come to an understanding with myself about food and about my weight which, for the most part, works pretty well. I say for the most part because my weight is still susceptible to go up and down a little. Right now I’m hovering around the ‘telling off mark’ which is the point at which my nearest and dearest step in and ask, in so many words, if I’m struggling more than I’m letting on. I can’t tell you how important it is to me that people are looking out for me in case I stop looking out for myself and I am incredibly grateful to have those kind of people in my life. The worst case scenario for me is going back to the dreaded days of the starvation diet – I think it scares me more than anything in the world*

One of my mantras is that being too thin is bad for you in much the same way that being too fat is bad for you. Which kinda brings me neatly on to the point of my ramblings today. When you’re thin people (and by ‘people’ I mean complete strangers) feel the need to tell you you’re thin. Quite aside from this being a major case of stating the bleeding obvious** it’s none of their business and is, in my outraged opinion, incredibly rude. I know beyond all shadow of a doubt that if I was overweight people at bus stops wouldn’t say “My god, you’re soooo fat”. Shop assistants wouldn’t say “Size 24 – that’s MASSIVE”. Waiters wouldn’t say “I’d skip the pudding if I were you”. Yet the opposite of all of these things in a great many variations have been said to me. And I really don’t think it’s okay – in fact, it’s one of my bug bears.

Sometimes, comments like that hit me at the wrong time and can make me ‘go a bit wobbly’ because I’m a bit sensitive about my weight. In some ways, the fact that I’m a bit sensitive about my weight is my problem – random strangers can’t be expected to know about it can they? Then again, even normal people (I use the phrase with my tongue firmly in cheek by the way) can be a bit sensitive about their weight and I think that might be the reason most people wouldn’t dream of pointing out to a stranger that they’re on the large side. We seem to recognise that when people are overweight there might be all kinds of reasons for that fact (illness, medication, eating distress, poor diet etc) and also make the (perhaps wrong***) assumption that they’re not over the moon about it. And so we generally don’t point out to people that we think they’re too large – It’s about knowing it’s none of your business, it’s about common courtesy and it’s about recognising that rightly or wrongly quite a lot of us are a bit sensitive about the size of our bodies.

My point? In a nutshell it’s that a bit of common courtesy for those people we think are too small wouldn’t go amiss either: manners, surely, are for people of all shapes and sizes.

Rant over. The end.

* It scares me even more than moths which, for the record, scare the absolute shit out of me.

**A bit like the famous “you’ve had your hair cut” Good spot Sherlock; I’d never have known ‘cos I wasn’t there at the time.

***But that’s a whole other post.