Testing, Testing!

A small pointless post to see if I’ve fixed something that went wrong with my page.

Wax On

Still The Same Porcine

Roaring through my fifth month of being Post Op. I suppose it’s time for an update so I’ve just dropped in to see what condition my condition is in.

Which is, I’m doing reasonably well, all things considered. If I put all the external drama in my life to one side, it turns out that I’m pretty much as happy as I can really be. And that’s always a good thing to have when you are otherwise feeling under the cosh. Could be doing with feeling slightly fitter though.

It’s to be expected but I’m definitely a little portlier than I was beforehand, especially around the middle. That’s probably just the four square meals a day and then slowly sleeping my way to recovery. There is something of a triumphant little bonus there however. I finally have somewhere to rest my coffee and there’s enough of a stomach spilling over for me to cuddle myself at scary parts in movies. Every cloud, as they say.

The Masterchef panel had reached deadlock

But self doubt and negative body image are now largely things of the past. I can’t claim that an operation gave me that at all. Just that maybe it’s the satisfaction of that part of my life being done with, that’s giving me the confidence I’m now able to enjoy.

Although I am always kind of half expecting the “When are you due?” questions from concerned passersby. To the casual observer, I’m still at least second trimester with that little kebab baby. But it’s all good. I’m at my happiest when eating for two anyway. And being happy within yourself can make all the difference when times get difficult. So, when life hands you lemons, maybe just stuff a chicken with them. You really can’t go fighting anything on an empty stomach. 🍽️ 🍋 🍗

A Frosty Reception

Every now and then my Mother seems to press a special button, that only she can locate, which wipes every single television channel within her home. This week’s effort was considerably worse than usual though. It then generally fell to me as the oldest child to be the one approached for the solution.

I’m not actually all that terribly awash with practical skills but I can at least strip a television aerial back and even make one from scratch if necessity requires. Which is extremely fortunate given my Mother’s individual talent for technological terrorism. And kind of a relic from my previous life, which seems to have come along for the ride.

Feeling boxed in?

But to be her Go To Person in anything is something I genuinely treasure. She is mine in almost everything, particularly as a moral compass. Her faith in my ability would never have diminished because of a largely corrective, operation though. She simply views me as exactly the same person, equal in every way. Just her child really. And that’s more than a blessing to me. And a lesson in what it means to be a Woman of substance. Who else can accept a daughter she never asked for? Or could ever reasonably have expected?

Because of her, I learned a definition of Woman, actually even Human, that was all encompassing. And if only just emulating her is the best I can ever manage then I’ll still be happy enough. And that’s a pretty good viewpoint to find yourself holding. So glad I tuned into her regular broadcasts.

Little Acorns

Odd little week in the end. Discovered Twitter is literally the last refuge of the criminally bigoted. Racist, homophobic, transphobic and xenophobic views abound. Scarier still is that they are applauded by the equally vile. Not a place I care to visit again for some time. The 21st Century suits me fine and is ultimately less depressing.

But real life was significantly better. Progress being made on all fronts, including family, and I feel luckier than ever to have the life I have, the people in it and to be mostly insulated from the pond scum that generates the most viciously backward keyboard gangsters.

Must be tricky choosing a profile pic

I never imagined that my home city, Glasgow, was as progressive as all that. But a glimpse into darker little corners makes it simply glisten with hope. If No Mean City can learn to be inclusive then I have to believe other places can be dragged up eventually. Until then though, Fuck ’em and the horse they rode into town.

In other news, it’s Mother’s Day. If you’ve lost them, please celebrate them. And if you have them, give them a hug. And another from me.

The Monkey On My Back Has It’s Back To The Wall

Sort of a shitty year so far. Couple of deaths in the family, bad news abounds and the carnage of 2017 still has it’s shitty little claws stuck in.

But I’m trying very hard to remain positive. Mostly because I can’t really imagine any other way of coping really.

I had taken the step of contacting my brothers recently. Mainly because family circumstances dictated it being necessary. But it’s been enormously disappointing if I’m honest.

One has sat on the fence so long his arse thinks the splinters are part of him, the other responded with nothing but bile. Which makes it an easy decision to close the book on it, if not the door.

So 2018 has not exactly been glorious so far. But it’s only Spring. In a month I’ll be in Crete, my second favourite place in the world, and everything generally looks rosier in the sunshine. Until then I just need to plod on regardless, in my favourite place in the world, which is just Home.