31, frown lines and saggy Bristols.

Thirty one. 31. Thirty-one.


That’s how old I am now. I didn’t expect to get to this ripe old age and be unemployed, overweight and cleaning up toddler piss on the reg, but there was also a time, during the dark days, I wasn’t even sure I’d make it to thirty one at all.

On my twenty first birthday I was in Portugal smoking 30 fags a day, arguing with an ex boyfriend about my top being too low cut. I was a size 8 (yes really) with FF boobs. Mate, I couldn’t wear anything that didn’t look low cut.

Now I’m a HH boob and a ‘too big for the tape measure’ waist’ so when I wear low cut tops now I just look fat and slutty, instead of the sexy and slutty I once was. Oh well. Those size 8 days never did gain me the kind of attention I needed.

Back then, I didn’t have to worry about gunts and cellulite, just depression and anxiety, along with a side of one too many hangovers, to ramp it up a bit. The last 10 years have been rough on my body, I’ve developed an illness, I’ve carried a child that damn nearly killed me, and I’ve been reliant on medication that makes you fat. So here I am, overweight, gunts galore, frown lines for dayssss and a tits that hit my belly button without a bra.

Whilst I’m here complaining about the inevitable ageing process I’ve missed out all the other bits that have led me to being here today, writing this here blog.

A relationship breakdown, another one we don’t mention because it was so royally fucked up and soul destroying that even to this day it angers me to be reminded of it, a couple of arrests, a suicide attempt, a few jobs, a fluctuating number on the scales…. and then came the turning point that was meeting my Shaun. (Queue corny insert) When I met Shaun I’d kind of sorted myself out, but only because rock bottom was higher than where I’d been. There was still an anger inside me though, it’s always been there, bubbling away, ready to turn into molten lava the minute someone barges me in the post office queue. If we’re being totally honest, it’s still there, but don’t worry, I’ve learned (most of the time) to keep it under wraps.

Shaun took me on a journey I hadn’t been on before, one that was kind, without the need for ferocious insecurities and full blown barneys down the local on a Friday night. I was feeling positive and ready to be better.

My step on the career ladder was under footing and life was good.

Then came Ciara, and for a while the insecurities were back with a vengeance! So forceful were they, I didn’t know how to control them, so I went into counselling, I took anti depressants and papered over the cracks, because as mum’s that’s what we do right?

It was only last year when nearly losing my own mum, life taught me lessons I didn’t know I needed to learn. One of them that really sticks in my mind is ‘life’s too short‘ cliché huh? That’s as maybe but to me it’s never been clearer. I needed to get happy and feel it! I mean really feel it!

So that’s what I did! Sure not everything was a choice, some of the decisions I’ve made in the last 6 months have been forced upon me, but how I react to those unwanted scenarios has changed. I’m finding the best bits and holding onto them. I’ve relieved myself of toxicity and I’m surrounding myself with genuine people, I’m doing things I enjoy, like writing more and learning new things, I’m parenting better and I’m genuinely happier than I’ve been in years. So whilst I’m a bit on the chubby side, the frown lines are legion, Bristol’s are sagging, I’m making small steps to a better life and instead of just sitting back and wishing, I’m trying hard to put all these feelings I’m full up with, to positive use. Yes I’m still a bit psycho, especially this week as I’m hormonal and pretty sure fibro is rearing its ugliness, but most of the time I’m levelled up. I’m almost medication free, I’m actively looking for work that fits around us as a family regardless of salary, and I’m trying to find ways everyday to be better. I can lose the weight (I hope) but I can’t lose sight of what’s important and that’s every single day, each morning I wake up to a beautiful (if a little moody sometimes) Ciara, and a lukewarm cuppa from Shaun.

I know it’s corny as, but I feel so lucky. Thirty one maybe my age, but I feel like my life’s only just getting started.


  1. You are even more stunning than you look, if that’s possible. Happy birthday. Wish I was 31 again!! Xx


  2. I love how raw and honest this post is! I think it’s really hard to grow up and like yourself (at least, I feel that way) but it sounds like you’ve accepted yourself and are enjoying life.
    Plus you look great!


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