Family · Health · Personal

Slave to my Hormones

PMTEver since I was about 9 years old, I’ve been a slave to my hormones. Every month I’d get that feeling of irrationality creeping in and making me react in ways that were far less reasonable than I would normally be. Sometimes, I’d know it was happening; like an out of body experience, I’d watch myself being aggressive and over-sensitive. Other times, I’d know fully well that I was acting differently and I didn’t care. I suffered physically too and I was diagnosed with PCOS at the age of about 14, which accounted for the pain and other issues that I suffered.

When I was 16, I went on the pill. I had a boyfriend and it was a no-brainer, serving as protection and helping to regulate things that had been so irregular in the past. Trouble was, it gave me hideous migraines, so I started having a Depo injection, which was far from perfect and I put on a ton of weight.

Over the years, I’ve tried every type of contraception there is, and after Sausage was born, I had an implant fitted. It wasn’t immediately perfect but after the first three months, everything stopped. And I mean everything. I didn’t feel the monthly struggle with irrationality and although towards the end I got a bit of pain at a certain time of the month, it worked. Trouble is, implants don’t last forever and I had it removed a couple of months ago. I didn’t have it replaced because we may decide to try for another child and I don’t want to either wait another 3 years or potentially have to have another surgical procedure to have it removed. So, I’m going contraceptive-commando at the moment, which is fine, except that I can feel the hormones creeping up on me again.

Poor Husband, I can fully admit that I’m not a picnic to live with. I can be over-sensitive at the best of times, but when you chuck raging hormones into the mix…well, he must have a halo hidden somewhere in his desk drawer! I’m like a stroppy teenager when I get going.


I’ve decided to take a stand.

I’m not going to be a slave to my hormones any more. I’m taking control and employing a level of self-awareness to overcome my irrationality. I’m not saying that I’m going to be successful 100% of the time, but I’m an adult with a brain and I refuse to allow myself to act and feel badly when there’s something I can do about it. Whenever I feel myself starting to slip into that place where I snap, over-react and generally escalate every conversation to a point of confrontation and aggression, I’m setting an internal bell to ring to remind me to reel myself in.

I’m not trying to betray the sisterhood. There’s no denying that being bloated and in pain, with the added injection of crazy-making hormones can make you feel lousy and PMT is a genuine medical condition with real symptoms. And, do you know what? Sometime’s it’s NOT PMT, sometimes the person you’re snapping at just is a douchebag, regardless of where you are in your cycle! But I’ve allowed my mood swings to rule my life for too long and I have to try to take control for my own sanity and the sake of those who have to live with me.

So, sistaz, how do you cope with the monthly black cloud? I’m guessing copious amounts of crisps and chocolate aren’t a cure otherwise I’d be an angel every month. What do you do when PMT rears its ugly head?

(ON a slightly different note, do you know how hard is was to find a PMT-related illustration for this post that wasn’t MASSIVELY patronising/sexist/offensive? What the frick, dudes of the world? What the frick?)


Bygone Bloghop

Husband and I often get a severe case of the ‘Anywhere But Here’, but we’ve also had lots of conversations, not just about places in which we’d like to live, but eras; time periods that we would have loved to have experienced first hand. I know I’m not the only one who thinks like this, so I thought I’d give you some of my ‘Anywhere But Now’s and then stick a badge and a bloghop code at the bottom so that anyone who wants to can join in!

Britain in 1897

One of the times in which I would have loved to have lived was Britain during the Women’s Suffrage movement, and I chose 1897 as that’s when  National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societiesfollow (NUWSS) was formed. The women who campaigned, wrote letters, held marches and boycotts are true feminist heroes and to have been there to witness their courage, first-hand, would be one of the most empowering and formative things that any modern woman could experience.

When I was a kid, I loved the film ‘Mary Poppins’ but my favourite character wasn’t Mary, or the kids or even loveable guttersnipe Bert. No, my fave was the Mum, in her frilly dress and straw boater singing about her ‘Sister Suffragettes’, marching around putting sashes on everyone and generally getting her bloomers in a knot about her cause!

The USA in 1950′s

These days, I think I’m a little bit to scared of relaxed gun laws to ever consider living in The States, but if I could go back to the 1950′s in America, I’d be there in a heartbeat. After the War, America was hugely prosperous due to the fact that the economy was in a period of growth, thanks to frugality and saving during the War and high levels of productivity, and it sounds like a true Golden Age to have lived through.

When I look back to this period, I love the music, the fashion, the cars, the hair…maybe not the politics so much, but to experience going to a drive-in movie in a big old Cadillac or a true American Diner…it’d be a dream come true! Okay, so my vision may be a little more ‘American Grafitti’ than truly accurate, but some of my view is based in fact.

One of my favorite authors, Bill Bryson wrote ‘The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kidfollow‘ about growing up in Des Moines, Iowa, in the 50′s and he makes it sound wondrous.

The UK in The Early Nineties

I was born in 1984, so although I was alive in the early nineties, a sentient being, I would love to go back to then as an adult. It’s the party girl in me, I think – the thought of going to a proper rave, dancing until tomorrow, smiling the night away without a care in the  world. I was a complete social butterfly in my time, getting up to all sorts of things that shouldn’t be mentioned on a respectable blog, but suffice to say, I had a good time. To go back to the Nineties when the whole club culture really started in the UK and experience it all first hand would be incredible.

The 5th Century BCE in Athens

This one may seem a little bit esoteric, but I chose this specific period because it’s accredited with being the time and place that Democracy was born. If you know me, you’ll know that I’m a big ol’ Leftie and to have been there when the very notion of ‘People Power’ was conceived, to have witnessed the events that led to political self-determination would be mind-blowing. Instead of the elite few making choices for the puny peons, power was handed over and people were finally allowed to make decisions for themselves, in terms of how they wanted their country to run. I’m not sure there’s ever been a greater moment in History than that.

Roughly 237 million Years Ago…

Okay, so as a pasty, fat modern human, I’d probably last about 6 and a half seconds before I got eaten by a dinosaur, but I couldn’t resist the temptation to go back and see the mega-flora and mega-fauna that populated the earth back then. Can you imagine, seeing the earth in its most natural state, before we chopped down trees, dammed rivers, built skyscrapers, polluted and generally murdered our environment? I wonder if the sky was still the same shade of blue, if grass was actually greener? All I know is, if I did have a time machine, I’d want to go back, even just for a few minutes to see what it was like before humans ruined it.

So, now it’s your turn! If you aren’t a blogger, hit me up in the comments and tell me which period you’d most like to live in. If you are a blogger then you’re in luck because this is a BLOGHOP! Write your own post detailing where and when you’d like to live (a top 5, maybe?) and then come back here, link up and then grab the blog hop code for your own post! I even have a swanky badge for you to use! (code below the badge and in the sidebar)

Bygone Bloghop


Did the BBC Make a Boob of Itself?

So, according to various news outlets, 139 people were so offended by the sight of Holly Willoghby in a bit of a boobie dress that they complained to the BBC after watching Saturday’s episode of The Voice.

 Holly Willoughby

ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY NINE of our Great British brothers and sisters are so incensed by the space between a woman’s boobs, that they dragged their carcasses out of their armchairs, took to pen or keyboard or carrier pigeon and sent a complaint to Aunty.

Let’s just let the utter ridiculousness of that sink in before we go on.

Okay, so our Holly is a big girl for her Mum in the chesticles area. She’s got a lot of front. And yes, I will concede that the dress was revealing. But to actually complain about it? The sight of about 100cm2 of flesh concerned these people that much? The same society that barely raises an eyebrow when the captain of our national football team impregnates a teammates girlfriend (“That’s alright, John, we’ll still let you REPRESENT OUR COUNTRY”). The same society which watches halfwits in a state of constant foreplay on Big Brother, the dead horse which various channels have been flogging for 13-odd years. The same society which embraces shows like Eastenders (and lets their kids watch it, no less) which shows scenes of rape, people trafficking, infant death and more besides on Christmas Day. I’m not even going to plunge into the plethora of other places that your kid can see boobs if they want to…


But do you know what’s worse? The BBC actually apologised to these people!

Willoghby’s cleavage is not going to corrupt your children. You should be more worried about your own overblown sense of moral outrage having a negative effect on them than a pair of tits.

On a serious note, this does bother me in other ways. Saying that her dress is a problem to you is a very short step away from the victim-blaming bullshit that we’re so used to.

“She was asking for it, in a dress like that”

“I couldn’t control myself because of what she was wearing”

If her dress, her cleavage, the human, nay WOMANLY form, bothers you to the extent that you need to moan to the BBC about it, I think you need to seriously assess what it is that you find so offensive about it. The human form is nothing to be ashamed of.

I’d love your opinion on this – am I being a bad parent for not shielding my daughter from the space between Holly Willoughby’s ta-tas?

Am I completely missing the point on this one?

Opinion · Politics

Should Ian Brady Be Allowed to Die?

This week, we’ve been hearing on the news about Ian Brady and how he’s appealing to be allowed to return to a mainstream prison, so that he’s no longer force-fed by tube and can resume his hunger strike. For those of you who don’t know (and I’d be surprised if there were many) Ian Brady, along with his then-partner Myra Hindley, committed a series of kidnap-murders during a two and a half year period in the late 1960′s. The killings, known as the Moors murders, due to the locations of the graves that two of the victims were found in, were five children, aged between 10 and 17, 4 of whom were sexually assaulted.

Brady has been described as a sadist and a sexual psychopath and, even during recent times, has shown little or no remorse for what he’s done, refusing to reveal the location of his fourth victim, Keith Bennett. He’s described his actions as an ‘existential experience’ and has mocked the criminal justice system by claiming that he’s used ‘method acting’ to maintain an insanity plea.

In 1999, he went on hunger strike, deciding that he no longer wants to be alive and claims it’s his right to be allowed to die. He’s quoted as saying “Myra gets the potentially fatal brain condition, whilst I have to fight simply to die. I have had enough. I want nothing, my objective is to die and release myself from this once and for all. So you see my death strike is rational and pragmatic. I’m only sorry I didn’t do it decades ago, and I’m eager to leave this cesspit in a coffin.“

So, readers, do you believe he should be allowed to die?

I wrote recently about the Woolwich murders and about how I’d seen and heard many people saying that the two attackers should face the death penalty for what they did. Yet, here’s Ian Brady asking for death and we’re force feeding him to keep him alive. How does that sit with you?

On principal, I don’t agree with the death penalty. I understand the arguments for it; the reduction of costs, the removal of risk of recidivism, the message to other criminals. However, we don’t have the death penalty, so this in itself is a different issue.

I, personally, think Ian Brady should be made to live out every miserable second of the rest of his life, even if it means force feeding him. My reasons are these:

1. Brady’s victims weren’t allowed to choose the terms of their own deaths. Their young lives were callously taken and their families left to endure the agony.

2. When Brady committed those crimes and was convicted, his liberty was taken away, therefore he’s not at liberty to make the decision to end his life when a judge has ruled that he be punished.

3. Allowing a violent criminal to decide when to end his life, when we ban legitimate euthanasia for people who’ve suffered long and painful illnesses would make an absolute mockery of everyone who’s suffered on their deathbed, unable to consciously decide when enough is enough.

(If you want to read about people who should have been given the right to die, read up on Terri Schiavofollow, or read about Robert Latimerfollow, a man imprisoned for euthanising his severely disabled daughter)

Given the fact that Brady has been witnessed eating soup and toast while on his supposed hunger strike, all of this strikes me as his last desperate attempt to whip up a media-circus around himself, giving him the attention that he thinks he deserves. The man is the embodiment of pure evil and shouldn’t be allowed a release from suffering, given that it’s not even a fraction of the suffering he’s inflicted on others. He should be left in a room with no means of entertainment or means to kill himself, made to live in purgatory for the rest of his days.

The picture below is a portrait of each of his five victims. These are the names and faces that we should be remembering. Not those of their killers.


 John Kilbride – Lesley Ann Downey – Keith Bennett – Pauline Reade – Edward Evans


Have Your Chance to #WinJim with Fat Face

Fat Face, the lovely people who sent me an outfit for BritMums Live, started as a humble t-shirt business, started by two friends.

“It all began in 1988, two friends desperately trying to avoid working for a living and enjoying all that the French Alps had to offer. The life was way too good to end too soon… but money was running short. A plan was needed… design some sweatshirts, sell ‘em at night, ski during the day, stick around till Spring then head for the beach. Fat Face had been born.

We’ve grown a bit since then, we sell more than just a few sweatshirts these days and we’ve got a few more stores. But one thing will never change; we design kit for those who love to get out there, stuff that’s built to withstand the demands of an active lifestyle. So, whether you’re into extreme sports or just enjoy getting out amongst it…Life is out there, make the most of it.

They’ve asked me to let my readers know about a brilliant competition they’re running at the moment, giving you the chance to Win Jim.

“Who’s Jim?”, I hear you ask. BEHOLD!:

Win Jim

Win Jim!

That’s right, the peeps at Fat Face love you so much that they want to GIVE you this beautiful, classic VW camper van. All you have to do to enter is click on the photo of Jim above and it’ll take you through to Fat Face’s competition page. You’ll need to answer a question (the answer to which can be found somewhere in this blog post…!) and fill in your details.