So tomorrow marks a somewhat important day in my life. The day I decided to take charge of my fat arse, slowly & get in shape. Triangle. Octagon. Not round. It’s going to be hard, like fuckin hard. Like tweezing your vag hair hard but I’ll have to get through it. I am 28 years old. Weigh closer to a 100kg’s than I’d like to admit and simple tasks, like walking and talking, makes me pants. I am not unfit, I am not fit enough. I still look pregnant. 5 years later. I’m small hey so round is not a good shape on me. I’m 1.49m so I expand, badly.
I’m taking it step by step. Eliminating certain factors, a few days at a time. Taking it slow. I know that I am going to feel like shit and that I am going to hate the world but if this is what it takes for me to appreciate being alive and here, then that is what I will do. I will 100% feel like dying but I will, somewhere deep down inside, find the fuckin balls to carry on.
I’ll be documenting my journey on Instagram with daily updates. Follow me to see alot of FUCK ME pictures and captionless feeds.
The heartbreaking true story of the Rochdale child sex abuse scandal has been aired last week on BBC 1’s newest TV drama – Three Girls.
It started on BBC 1 just started last week Tuesday and is based on a true story of the pre teen victims of a sexual exploitation / grooming ring.
It also sheds a light on how these young ladies were let down by authorities. It covers topics on how the girls were overwhelmed with free alchohol, food and smokes. The sexual grooming was done by a few men,about 9 – 15 & there were more than 50 victims over the space of 4 + years.
Three Girls focuses more on Amber, Ruby & Holly.
I think you should watch this 3 part true story series because as parents, we need to be less focused on our screens and more on our kids. Especially in South Africa. Things are just insane and with all the rapes and murders happening, we certainly need to be more open that not everyone is as “clean cut” as us.
Our kids are at risk to something bigger than us. Let us educate them & stay aware.
I’m not sure how this Mother’s Day thing works but in South Africa, it’s this Sunday; which also happens to be my dad’s birthday. Now, this is not a rant post or a “I don’t celebrate Mother’s Day” or some other shit like that; – it is simply as titled
Don’t tag me this Mother’s Day
I know you mean well and I appreciate it but I do not have time to be tagged with a million of your other friends and then get bombarded by the friends that liked or commented on your post. That shit is annoying! Yes, thank you for remembering that I am a Mother and that this one day in the entire year is dedicated to me being bombarded and shitfaced with WhatsApp messages and Facebook tags. Please don’t. I’d much rather you send me a WhatsApp message that I can open and then ignore. It’s easier. So simple.
So, please, this Mother’s Day, go ahead & wish me (include some REAL chocolates when you send my wishes) but please, pretty pretty please, Don’t tag me this Mother’s Day
So just the other day I was waiting for the elevator on the 9th floor. It was time to go home. I had on my work uniform. 3 elevators and a constant wait time of what seemed like hours. Elevator to my left opens up. A whole bunch of male construction workers and I politely decline with a “I’ll take the next one”. A mere 6 second before the elevator doors close again, delivering them to their desired floor, I get catcalled. Let that sink in. In 2017. In my work uniform. On my way home, so roughly at 3h30 in the afternoon, I get a few of the below
– whistled at
– yor girl you look sexy
– ow girl what’s your name
– naai you can get in
Now, these male construction workers were roughly aged between 35 and 45. Not to say I don’t expect it but perhaps from the younger, more immature generation? The first thought I had as these elevator doors closed and I was forced to wait for what now seemed like another 2 hours was
– Oh, just fuck off
– How immature
Sidenote: I have been single for 4 years and there has been no interest from any species. Also, I have a almost 5 year old.
Will she have to endure this, years down the line? Will her kids have to endure this? Generally, I have mastered the art of ignoring and when I do get catcalled, which is almost never, I turn my head up and ignore. Call me a bitch or sturvy but I’d much rather be sturvy than entartaining; to catcallers, that is
Man oh man. Times like this I wish I had a significant other who I could just vent to. Just to have someone to cry to and tell me that everything would be ok. Even if it wasn’t. A small lie is better than the angst I feel and the sadness that is slowly simmering inside of me. I really do wish that any place was a safe place. I don’t have any friends and I certainly don’t have a significant other. With everything else going on, surely it could not get any worse? Like a bomb it hit me. It could get worse. It did get worse. Who do I talk to? You? I doubt you even care. You probably stopped reading. I can start talkinh about my period now, right? I have buddies. Yes. But do they really want to listen to me blab about what seems to have become an insistent problem? It’s always something or other but this month? A whole 3/4 gone. What am I suppose to do? You didn’t even have the decency to tell me. I had to drag it out of you. Like dragging a tapeworm out of your arse. It’s ok though. Right? Because we’re family & because I am just such a softy. Always agreeable. Never fighting back. Never standing my ground because at the end of the day I have always been the one to be blamed. I started the fight. I started this entirely long, non sensical post. Me. Not anyone else. I should stand my ground. On this atleast. Teach her something. I don’t know though if I want to. Have to. I could just report you but then I’d be blamed again. Do I have time for that? I just want someone I can be weak with. Vulnerable. Being strong. The dependable one. Sucks. Even now. All the time even. As I dry my almost tears. It sucks. You suck.