Cursed with a Fat Arse... and other stuff.

Okay, so you may have noticed that this blog has been fairly inactive for a while...which is basically not like me as I always have something (stupid) to say. Basically, my absence is because since I developed a hiatus hernia, with very unpleasant side effects, I'm trying to get on top of it and avoid an operation by doing things the natural way by changing my diet and losing weight. Losing weight has been a preoccupation of mine for about the last 25 years and one that I find incredibly difficult - I'm one of the unfortunate women who work really hard at it but have very little success and as soon as I ease up from a very rigid diet or cut back on exercise (by which I mean less than 5 times a week) the weight piles back on.

For example - yesterday I did a zumba class, forty minutes on the cross trainer, forty minutes in the pool and an hour on my bike whilst watching the telly in the evening. I am on a strict diet which includes no tea, coffee, alcohol, squash, fruit juices, sweets, chocolates, biscuits, cakes, anything rich, creamy, spicy and mainly consists of one hundred percent healthy stuff except pretzels which seem to be one of the few "luxuries" that don't cause a problem with my hernia.

So it was with expectation that I got on the scales this morning - and to my despair I weighed only 0.4 of a lb less than I weighed two days ago. So it seems that, despite every good intention, I am cursed with a fat arse.

Sadly, this is not my arse. I'd like to have this arse but I am one of those women who has been curse with a "personality "
instead . Frankly, I'd rather have a nice arse. I'm sure Mr T would prefer it if I had a nice arse too. In fact I 'm sure he'd be delighted to exchange my "personality" for a arse that looks good and doesn't talk back. 

Now I know all the stuff there is to know about muscle/fat, exercises, nutrition and let me say that for some people doing all the right things still does not bloody well work. So to anyone who says I'm still eating too much or not exercising enough - screw you! (Sorry about that - I'm feeling quite vitolic this morning and it was either write a blog to let it out or take a sledgehammer to my bathroom scales.)

Okay, so that's my rant over.

Anyway, in order to make up for my absence I've signed up for the 2015 A- Z Blogging challenge in April where I'll be blogging every single day on a subject relating to the alphabet. Now if you're not sure what this means it will be as follows...on April 1st I shall be blogging about a topic beginning with the letter A, on April 2nd it will be on a topic beginning with B and so on....

As I'm inherently lazy, (apart when it comes to exercise which is a necessity)  I shall not be planning any of these posts but flying by the seat of my pants. However, if anyone wants to nominate a topic please feel free to do so.

Now in addition to that news, I have loads of other news, gossip (and more rants!) to impart but the first of those will have to wait till tomorrow as I have to haul my arse around the block and fill-out a self-assessment tax form which I've never done before and have no idea how long it will take. Filling out my earnings from writing should take about five seconds but if I have to list my expenses that could take days - so my advice to anyone thinking about self-publishing and wanting to take it seriously (ie create a professionally produced book in the same manner as a traditional publisher would and market it accordingly) is -  getting a well-paid 9-5 job and being able to afford some nice holidays beats the hell out of being a writer. At the moment I have no idea how I'm going to fund my next book - there's only so much cash in the kitty and I will have used up my quota with The Changing Room. I do, however, have some exciting news about my book coming up which, God willing, will help me turn the corner from obscurity and sell a few books.

We'll just have to see what the future holds...

Stephen Fry,Toyboys, Hiatus Hernias and Jacob's Cream Crackers. And a Happy New Year to all!

Getting old is a right royal pain in the backside, isn't it? I know middle aged celebs are always spouting that "I've never been happier" phrase (usually when they've just be paid fifty grand by Hello magazine for a photo shoot) but personally I kinda liked being young and healthy. Although - if I was 57 years old and called Stephen Fry and I'd just hooked up with a 27 year old I'd be saying "I've never been happier" too.

In fact, I'd quite happily trade the good Mr T in for a younger model - so if there's any 27 year olds out there  (or younger - I'm not fussy) who fancy their chances with Mrs T and can do a hatchet job on Mr T send me an email with the title "Age is no object and I'm hot for rotund old women."

So, you may have been wondering where I've been as I have been fairly quiet for a while. Well, the truth is - I have started a new diet. It's not my usual New Year diet on the lines of the Mad Axeman Diet and The Hot Dish Diet, it's called the Hiatus Hernia Diet. 

Yep, in early December the old body decided it was about time to start packing up on me. Now as I didn't have the usual symptoms of a hiatus hernia (like heartburn) my other symptoms need investigating so I've had cameras stuck in almost every orifice (that's almost every orifice) and it was concluded I have a small hiatus hernia which, in the scheme of life, aint so bad. It's certainly better than being six foot under.

But boy oh boy - do you know the food stuffs they tell you avoid when you have a hiatus hernia?

There's practically nothing left to eat apart from crackers and pretzels!

Hmm.. it's a pity there's no punctuation that indicates total despair. I suppose an exclamation mark will have to do. Blast.

I gifted myself a tin of Jacob's crackers over Christmas. It was a sad, sad, day. Even the woman at the checkout gave me a pitying look.

God, to think I may have to live twenty more years on a diet of crackers and pretzels. I may yet turn into one of those depressed writers you keep hearing about. It won't be through the inability to create a literary masterpiece though it will be through not being able to stuff my face with chocolate chip cookies.

Anyway, I've come to the conclusion that what I need is a 27 year old toyboy to cheer myself up. I need to ask the lovely Stephen for some tips about how to get one. Cos let's face it - it's not like I could wine and dine my 27 year old stud into submission in some fancy restaurant is it?  Just imagine it - my potential toyboy is sitting across from me eating fillet of steak and sipping champagne whilst I'm trying to seductively eat a plate full of Jacob's cream crackers and sipping on a glass of cold water. It don't think it's a winning scenario.

And how many seductive ways are there to eat a Jacob's cream cracker?

Not many I can tell you. Nibbling a cracker is not like nibbling a large fresh cream chocolate eclair. Or rolling your tongue around a banana. Remember the film Nine and a Half Weeks? Where Kim Basinger and Mickey Rourke do the sexy eating scene - well I reckon I can do the seductive stuff in about 5 seconds before reaching for the Gaviscon.

So there you have it. I had a miserable Christmas, nibbling crackers and contemplating my own mortality while everyone else tucked into the turkey. I'd like to think I've come up with some deep philosophical ideas on the meaning of life but so far all I've manage is this phrase:

"You're screwed, Turley. Get yourself a toyboy before it's too late." 

Any takers? I can provide crackers as a contraceptive.