Ok so here goes.
Why do we always decide to kick ourselves up the arse on a Monday? Monday's are shite anyway, why make it worse? Either way, here goes.
Breakfast: 1 large glass of water, 1 slice of toast, 1 scrambled egg.
Snack: 1 Apple. A Pink Lady none-the-less.
Lunch: 1 salad consisting of - 1/3 of an orange pepper, 1/3 of a red pepper, a handful of baby spinach, 1 sliced beetroot, 2/3 chicken breast, 5 1cm cubes of feta cheese, 1 stick of celery, 1 water biscuit for crunch.
Snack:
Tea:
Monday, 24 January 2011
Sunday, 23 January 2011
New love, tonsils, networking and flu...
Around the beginning of 2010, I started chatting to a rather nice chap on Twitter. I believe that one of my comments to him was "Ooh, your username is also 1867 - we should get married."
Anyway, when Adam and I first got together, I was still a 12. My legs were dimply and my chin(s) were rather large. Still, the poor sod ended up going out with me. Fatty or not - he wasn't bothered. All together now; ahh.
I also got heavily involved with 4networking - which meant a lot of breakfasts. Sure, there's a continental option - but we've discussed this; I'm a pig. A couple of breakfasts per week didn't help. Oops.
However, 4N did introduce me to Darren Crookes - the king of Herbalife. It was the middle of the year and I had 2 weeks before the Leeds Festival. My size 12s were tight again and I was struggling to come to terms with the thought of flashing any flesh during my trip. I took Herbalife for a week and lost 8lb. Woohoo. In reality, it didn't stay off and I'd pretty much put it all back on by the time I went in hospital for my tonsils out 3 weeks later.
Ah, my tonsillectomy... possibly the worst month of my life.
I'd always suffered with my tonsils; I could literally stub my toe and I'd get a throat infection - it was ridiculous. I was also allergic to penicillin. Joys. Eventually, after 22 years of complaining (and 10 infections that year) I was admitted to Chesterfield Hospital for DAY SURGERY (yes, really) to have them removed, under general aneasthetic.
Needless to say, the whole thing went tits up. I ended up having major palpitations and left the hospital (yep, they still sent me home) about 6 hours later than I should have been going. For the next 3 weeks, not one piece of food passed my lips and I probably drank a litre or so of water during the whole time. One morning, the infection had gotten so bad that I was sent back to the hospital as I literally couldn't move.
Guess what they gave me?
WOOHOO. Penicillin.
One more week of being ill.
A true joy when you're self employed, let me tell you.
Over the month, I lost 16lb. I suppose it was worth it.
Not only that, my stomach shrunk due to the lack of action it had received (see my Slimming World blog) and I managed to keep off 15lb of the 16lb I had lost.
Of course, in the run up to Xmas, I put weight back on. Probably about half a stone. I was still in my size 10s, sometimes a 12 (damn you Zara and your teeny tiny sizes - God Bless you Tesco and Dorothy Perkins)
Don't worry - it's nearly over.
Just before Xmas, (the Wednesday before) I got the flu. I can now honestly say that I have never EVER had flu before, despite probably saying it a bazillion times. I was actually pretty chuffed that I'd had my tonsils out - if not, the infection would have definitely hit my throat and I'd have ended up on a drip in hospital on Xmas day.
Instead, I spent the festivities in my own bed. Again, not touching a morsel of food or alcohol. I drank litre after litre of water and just about survived to NYE for a trip to the Big Smoke.
So, that pretty much brings me to here. I'm a 10 again, a 12 if I've been a pig the day before. But I'm not happy. And I won't be until I'm back to the confident size 8 I used to be.
By doing this blog, I've put it out there and I need all 860 odd of you to make me do it. If I tweet about eating shite, stop me. (Allow me my gin though, there are more calories in a breath of air ffs) I need your encouragement.
I am undergoing hypnotherapy from the lovely @ClaireOnTheWWW - who is amazing. After just a quick session to start me off I already feel motivated. I still had some pizza last night though, due to vodka. Sorry. I won't do it again. Especially after next Wednesday when I am hypnotised again.
I'm determined guys, I really am. And, when I do - I will do another Owlettes shoot. There, Neil, you have it in writing. I'm sure there's a way of raising money for charity out of that too. We shall see.
I'm sorry for rambling on, but there's no point in starting a blog at the place I am. No point at all. Now you know the background, the reasons etc.
Please don't tell me that I 'don't need to lose it' or that I'm promoting something wrong. I'm not, I just want to be happy and healthy again and I am going to do it in the right way. I'll probably try and do a food diary too - we shall see. Obviously I won't expect you to read those - you'd have more fun pulling off your fingernails whilst in a deep conversation with Katie Price.
So, let's go.
Roll on size 8.
Age: 22
Marital Status: Relationship
Job: Sole Trader
Boobs: 32F
Dress Size: 10/12
Confidence: 3/10
Anyway, when Adam and I first got together, I was still a 12. My legs were dimply and my chin(s) were rather large. Still, the poor sod ended up going out with me. Fatty or not - he wasn't bothered. All together now; ahh.
I also got heavily involved with 4networking - which meant a lot of breakfasts. Sure, there's a continental option - but we've discussed this; I'm a pig. A couple of breakfasts per week didn't help. Oops.
However, 4N did introduce me to Darren Crookes - the king of Herbalife. It was the middle of the year and I had 2 weeks before the Leeds Festival. My size 12s were tight again and I was struggling to come to terms with the thought of flashing any flesh during my trip. I took Herbalife for a week and lost 8lb. Woohoo. In reality, it didn't stay off and I'd pretty much put it all back on by the time I went in hospital for my tonsils out 3 weeks later.
Ah, my tonsillectomy... possibly the worst month of my life.
I'd always suffered with my tonsils; I could literally stub my toe and I'd get a throat infection - it was ridiculous. I was also allergic to penicillin. Joys. Eventually, after 22 years of complaining (and 10 infections that year) I was admitted to Chesterfield Hospital for DAY SURGERY (yes, really) to have them removed, under general aneasthetic.
Needless to say, the whole thing went tits up. I ended up having major palpitations and left the hospital (yep, they still sent me home) about 6 hours later than I should have been going. For the next 3 weeks, not one piece of food passed my lips and I probably drank a litre or so of water during the whole time. One morning, the infection had gotten so bad that I was sent back to the hospital as I literally couldn't move.
Guess what they gave me?
WOOHOO. Penicillin.
One more week of being ill.
A true joy when you're self employed, let me tell you.
Over the month, I lost 16lb. I suppose it was worth it.
Not only that, my stomach shrunk due to the lack of action it had received (see my Slimming World blog) and I managed to keep off 15lb of the 16lb I had lost.
Of course, in the run up to Xmas, I put weight back on. Probably about half a stone. I was still in my size 10s, sometimes a 12 (damn you Zara and your teeny tiny sizes - God Bless you Tesco and Dorothy Perkins)
Don't worry - it's nearly over.
Just before Xmas, (the Wednesday before) I got the flu. I can now honestly say that I have never EVER had flu before, despite probably saying it a bazillion times. I was actually pretty chuffed that I'd had my tonsils out - if not, the infection would have definitely hit my throat and I'd have ended up on a drip in hospital on Xmas day.
Instead, I spent the festivities in my own bed. Again, not touching a morsel of food or alcohol. I drank litre after litre of water and just about survived to NYE for a trip to the Big Smoke.
So, that pretty much brings me to here. I'm a 10 again, a 12 if I've been a pig the day before. But I'm not happy. And I won't be until I'm back to the confident size 8 I used to be.
By doing this blog, I've put it out there and I need all 860 odd of you to make me do it. If I tweet about eating shite, stop me. (Allow me my gin though, there are more calories in a breath of air ffs) I need your encouragement.
I am undergoing hypnotherapy from the lovely @ClaireOnTheWWW - who is amazing. After just a quick session to start me off I already feel motivated. I still had some pizza last night though, due to vodka. Sorry. I won't do it again. Especially after next Wednesday when I am hypnotised again.
I'm determined guys, I really am. And, when I do - I will do another Owlettes shoot. There, Neil, you have it in writing. I'm sure there's a way of raising money for charity out of that too. We shall see.
I'm sorry for rambling on, but there's no point in starting a blog at the place I am. No point at all. Now you know the background, the reasons etc.
Please don't tell me that I 'don't need to lose it' or that I'm promoting something wrong. I'm not, I just want to be happy and healthy again and I am going to do it in the right way. I'll probably try and do a food diary too - we shall see. Obviously I won't expect you to read those - you'd have more fun pulling off your fingernails whilst in a deep conversation with Katie Price.
So, let's go.
Roll on size 8.
Age: 22
Marital Status: Relationship
Job: Sole Trader
Boobs: 32F
Dress Size: 10/12
Confidence: 3/10
Football, living with boys and unemployment...
I'd only been at the fab agency for 2 months when I got a call from the Communications Manager of Sheffield Wednesday, the same day I was being interviewed and the day after I had been appointed to run Wednesday's PR and community campaign.
Oh em gee.
The hours got longer, the lunch breaks less frequent and the weight lower. The stress was sky-high and the 7 day working-weeks were starting to grind. 7 days is an exaggeration actually; I was usually done by 11am on Sunday.
Whilst at Wednesday, I got on so well with 2 of my colleagues that we decided to get a house together. Lots of office jokes ensued, including a bet with my superior that I would name a pet after him. (Welcome to Trevor, the female guinea pig)
Anyway, boys will be boys and we survived on a diet of beer, wine and Chicken Tonight. I shudder at the thought of the amount of salt that I consumed in those 8 months.
Also, I defy anybody to have their dream job taken away from them (I won't go into detail) not to binge-eat, drink and cry themselves to sleep.
It was then that I turned to my best friend Nigel, who is a total inspiration to me. Follow him on Twitter (@VootMobile) and chat to him - you'll soon see why. Not ignorant to feeling like his life was over thanks to SWFC, he sat me down and gave me a good telling off.
That night, I went self employed.
I decided to move home to save money (I dropped 5lb in the first week of 'Mum's cooking' diet) and I settled into building a business that I am very proud of.
Age: 21
Marital Status: Single..with a big crush :)
Job: Sole Trader
Boobs: 32F
Dress Size: 12
Confidence: 2/10
Oh em gee.
The hours got longer, the lunch breaks less frequent and the weight lower. The stress was sky-high and the 7 day working-weeks were starting to grind. 7 days is an exaggeration actually; I was usually done by 11am on Sunday.
Whilst at Wednesday, I got on so well with 2 of my colleagues that we decided to get a house together. Lots of office jokes ensued, including a bet with my superior that I would name a pet after him. (Welcome to Trevor, the female guinea pig)
Anyway, boys will be boys and we survived on a diet of beer, wine and Chicken Tonight. I shudder at the thought of the amount of salt that I consumed in those 8 months.
Also, I defy anybody to have their dream job taken away from them (I won't go into detail) not to binge-eat, drink and cry themselves to sleep.
It was then that I turned to my best friend Nigel, who is a total inspiration to me. Follow him on Twitter (@VootMobile) and chat to him - you'll soon see why. Not ignorant to feeling like his life was over thanks to SWFC, he sat me down and gave me a good telling off.
That night, I went self employed.
I decided to move home to save money (I dropped 5lb in the first week of 'Mum's cooking' diet) and I settled into building a business that I am very proud of.
Age: 21
Marital Status: Single..with a big crush :)
Job: Sole Trader
Boobs: 32F
Dress Size: 12
Confidence: 2/10
Rumours, ends and new beginnings...
Eventually, the events job drove me to go insane.
Really, like actually insane.
I am proud to say that I have left a job in true Hollywood-I QUIT-style. Winner.
So, no job, a bit of podge and an ever-increasing rumour mill surrounding my boyfriend. That was over by July. Considering I spent pretty much 24 hours a day with him for 3 years... I've seen him about three times since. Bonus.
Naturally, I was super duper unconfident.
Anyway, let's go back to January; I landed a fab job at GB Eye in Sheffield, taking full control of their marketing to independent customers. (They sold posters, I marketed them to smaller shops/websites) My confidence was much higher, maybe even a 5, as I was bloody good at my job. Poster sales were through the roof, I met some good friends and I was working at an ace company.
Unfortunately for my waistline, this company just so happened to be next door to the pub and a Tesco Express (mmmmm 650 calorie sandwiches) so, yet again, the size 12s were stretched to full pelt. To be fair, I was trying then. Genuinely trying. I bought salads, I drank water etc etc.
Oh and GB Eye has a vending machine. Bugger.
I then moved jobs to a PR Agency around the corner from GB. The hours were long and the staff were ace. One girl in particular was quite keen to shape-up, so we joined some local aerobics classes. My size 12s were loose. My size 10s were snug. I was happy. Woohoo etc.
Cue a call from my favourite football club...
Age: 20
Marital Status: Single
Job: PR Junior
Boobs: 32E
Dress Size: 12
Confidence: 4/10
Really, like actually insane.
I am proud to say that I have left a job in true Hollywood-I QUIT-style. Winner.
So, no job, a bit of podge and an ever-increasing rumour mill surrounding my boyfriend. That was over by July. Considering I spent pretty much 24 hours a day with him for 3 years... I've seen him about three times since. Bonus.
Naturally, I was super duper unconfident.
Anyway, let's go back to January; I landed a fab job at GB Eye in Sheffield, taking full control of their marketing to independent customers. (They sold posters, I marketed them to smaller shops/websites) My confidence was much higher, maybe even a 5, as I was bloody good at my job. Poster sales were through the roof, I met some good friends and I was working at an ace company.
Unfortunately for my waistline, this company just so happened to be next door to the pub and a Tesco Express (mmmmm 650 calorie sandwiches) so, yet again, the size 12s were stretched to full pelt. To be fair, I was trying then. Genuinely trying. I bought salads, I drank water etc etc.
Oh and GB Eye has a vending machine. Bugger.
I then moved jobs to a PR Agency around the corner from GB. The hours were long and the staff were ace. One girl in particular was quite keen to shape-up, so we joined some local aerobics classes. My size 12s were loose. My size 10s were snug. I was happy. Woohoo etc.
Cue a call from my favourite football club...
Age: 20
Marital Status: Single
Job: PR Junior
Boobs: 32E
Dress Size: 12
Confidence: 4/10
Slimming World...
Coming back to the UK was a bit of a shocker. I'd not actually noticed my weight over there.
I'll never forget the look of shock on my best mate's face as I walked into the bar where I was meeting her on my return. To be fair, her best friend had just gone up 3 dress sizes in 3 months.
So, I let it sit around for a bit, gradually piling on more and more weight. By the age 19, I was a size 14. My 12s didn't even consider fitting me.
Time for action.
I ended up with some great jobs, I worked at a huge creative agency in Sheffield and then landed a role planning events for huge businesses.
However, both of those jobs involved sitting at a desk from 9-5. The weight didn't shift.
My Mum had to bring up the subject (which, of course, made her the biggest bitch in the entire world) of joining Slimming World. Eventually, I did, and I slowly saw the weight drop off. It wasn't easy, but a year later, I was a stone lighter and back in my 12s. Ahh.
Whilst Slimming World did work for me, it was bloody hard work. It also allowed you to eat "as much as you want" of certain foods. Not good for somebody who has a stomach-capacity the size of Africa. So, whilst I probably even got a sniff at my size 10s, as soon as I fell off the wagon - that space could easily be filled with cake.
Age: 19
Marital Status: Relationship
Job: Account Manager - events and hospitality
Boobs: 32E
Dress Size: 12
Confidence: 3/10
I'll never forget the look of shock on my best mate's face as I walked into the bar where I was meeting her on my return. To be fair, her best friend had just gone up 3 dress sizes in 3 months.
So, I let it sit around for a bit, gradually piling on more and more weight. By the age 19, I was a size 14. My 12s didn't even consider fitting me.
Time for action.
I ended up with some great jobs, I worked at a huge creative agency in Sheffield and then landed a role planning events for huge businesses.
However, both of those jobs involved sitting at a desk from 9-5. The weight didn't shift.
My Mum had to bring up the subject (which, of course, made her the biggest bitch in the entire world) of joining Slimming World. Eventually, I did, and I slowly saw the weight drop off. It wasn't easy, but a year later, I was a stone lighter and back in my 12s. Ahh.
Whilst Slimming World did work for me, it was bloody hard work. It also allowed you to eat "as much as you want" of certain foods. Not good for somebody who has a stomach-capacity the size of Africa. So, whilst I probably even got a sniff at my size 10s, as soon as I fell off the wagon - that space could easily be filled with cake.
Age: 19
Marital Status: Relationship
Job: Account Manager - events and hospitality
Boobs: 32E
Dress Size: 12
Confidence: 3/10
Hong Kong is not good for the waistline...
During those wonderful Owlette days, I met my 2nd boyfriend who had a huge impact on my life. Confidence wise, weight wise, life wise etc.
So, there I was, in the full throws of modelling, when I was introducded to a boy who "would be absolutely perfect for" me. We'd actually known of eachother for a few years, we lived about 5 minutes from eachother and we had a lot of the same friends.
He was an apprentice footballer and we absolutely hated eachother on the first night we met. He thought he was David Beckham, I still thought that I was Katie Price - it took a long time to work. Eventually, the egos were dropped and we actually got on really well.
About 6 months into our official relationship, he was offered a contract in Hong Kong playing for their biggest club. I was working in marketing and PR on about £8000 per year, working 50 hour weeks. It was hardly a huge decision.
That's where it all went hideously wrong.
Chinese food is actually not that unhealthy. It's nothing like the takeaways we get here. I once asked for Chow Mein and got laughed at. Oops. Anyway, my point is - had we lived on the local cuisine, I would have been Ok. It just so happened that my ex wouldn't touch anything Chinese so we ended up eating in "western" restaurants ALL the time. Couple that with me having no exercise (other than shopping) and I came back as a size 12/14. In 3 months.
Oh my God.
Age: 18
Marital Status: Relationship
Job: Eurgh, 'Wag'
Boobs: 32F
Dress Size: 12/14
Confidence: 1/10
So, there I was, in the full throws of modelling, when I was introducded to a boy who "would be absolutely perfect for" me. We'd actually known of eachother for a few years, we lived about 5 minutes from eachother and we had a lot of the same friends.
He was an apprentice footballer and we absolutely hated eachother on the first night we met. He thought he was David Beckham, I still thought that I was Katie Price - it took a long time to work. Eventually, the egos were dropped and we actually got on really well.
About 6 months into our official relationship, he was offered a contract in Hong Kong playing for their biggest club. I was working in marketing and PR on about £8000 per year, working 50 hour weeks. It was hardly a huge decision.
That's where it all went hideously wrong.
Chinese food is actually not that unhealthy. It's nothing like the takeaways we get here. I once asked for Chow Mein and got laughed at. Oops. Anyway, my point is - had we lived on the local cuisine, I would have been Ok. It just so happened that my ex wouldn't touch anything Chinese so we ended up eating in "western" restaurants ALL the time. Couple that with me having no exercise (other than shopping) and I came back as a size 12/14. In 3 months.
Oh my God.
Age: 18
Marital Status: Relationship
Job: Eurgh, 'Wag'
Boobs: 32F
Dress Size: 12/14
Confidence: 1/10
from the beginning...
Before we begin - let me tell you now; I will never disclose how much I weigh. Soz.
You'll just have to guess.
Anyway, as it stands, I would like to lose at least a stone. Maybe one and a half.
Cue the usual "but you don't need to lose weight.." cries, I've heard them all before. The thing is, when you're smaller, like me, people presume that you're happy in your body. I am female - I will never be totally happy with my body.
Yes, my jeans are a size 10. But, I do own some 12s. This isn't too horrific, I know, but please listen to my story.
Let's start at year 6; I was always average height, slim and top of most of my classes. My Godsister was the bain of my life, she was tall, curvy and a B cup. Bless her, that Christmas she bought my my first bra. It was cream with little roses all over it. The size? 30AAA. Yet, it still was baggy.
Fast forward to year 7 and I was short, a DD cup and not bothered about qualifications or lessons. Yes, I was a DD. My 2nd ever bra was a DD. How does that work? They literally appeared overnight - my Mum had to rush to Meadowhall and drop me a bra off at lunchtime. It was from BHS and lylac. I loved it. 32DD. Yes.
If they had offered qualifications in 'smoking, drinking, playing football and being popular' - I would have probably passed with flying colours, I'm sad to say that those subjects pretty much made my life. Actually, I probably shouldn't say that I'm sad to say that... I had a bloody good time.
I literally ate whatever I wanted and my exercise programme consisted of skiving P.E. Actually, that was more work than actually going to the lessons.
Anyway, as we moved onto year 10/11, I had pretty much given up all of that. I was a hardcore rocker whose days consisted of actually going to class (er, even P.E - which I chose as a GCSE option?) learning how to play guitar, chasing boys in bands and rocking out at The Corporation nightclub (mmm, classy.) Still, my jeans were a size 8 (although you could have fit 2 of me in each leg) and my boobs were still a 32DD.
Cue one horrendous relationship, one modelling job and a wallet full of money.
It was around this time that I applied for the role of an 'Owlette', a tongue-in-cheek website featuring girls in Wednesday shirts. Neil, the owner of the site (who I adore, the man changed my entire life) invited me along to a photoshoot (with my Mum, as I was about 17) and I suddenly realised that I was hiding behind hoodies, tent-trousers and skater shoes. I was actually teeny and, with the right lighting, quite attractive.
Eventually, modelling for Neil and his Owlettes website gave me the confidence to chuck the horrendous ex. (I almost feel harsh for calling him that, but believe me, he was. We get on OK now. OK, not great.) From then on, I was thrown into a dream world. I was getting wads of cash to totter around in a pretty dress, sell raffle tickets and hang around footballers at my favourite club. Brilliant. In fact, my friend and I used to get free drinks and entry at our favourite nightclub just to BE there. How does that work?
I admit, I probably turned into a bit of a twat. If you knew the shite I had gone through in the previous relationship, you'd probably be more understanding. On the plus side, I will hold my hands up and say that I was probably a bit of a nob back then, sorry if you knew me.
On the other hand, that time made me who I am today. As I said, Neil changed my life. Without him, I'd probably still be with the ex, living in some crappy council flat, working in the same electrical shop, drinking 20 cups of tea (yeah, really) a day and smoking 20 'fags'. Eurgh. So, in a way, again - I don't regret a thing.
Age: 18
Marital Status: Gladly single
Job: Model/Student
Boobs: 32DD
Dress Size: 8
Confidence: 7/10
Twatability: 10/10
You'll just have to guess.
Anyway, as it stands, I would like to lose at least a stone. Maybe one and a half.
Cue the usual "but you don't need to lose weight.." cries, I've heard them all before. The thing is, when you're smaller, like me, people presume that you're happy in your body. I am female - I will never be totally happy with my body.
Yes, my jeans are a size 10. But, I do own some 12s. This isn't too horrific, I know, but please listen to my story.
Let's start at year 6; I was always average height, slim and top of most of my classes. My Godsister was the bain of my life, she was tall, curvy and a B cup. Bless her, that Christmas she bought my my first bra. It was cream with little roses all over it. The size? 30AAA. Yet, it still was baggy.
Fast forward to year 7 and I was short, a DD cup and not bothered about qualifications or lessons. Yes, I was a DD. My 2nd ever bra was a DD. How does that work? They literally appeared overnight - my Mum had to rush to Meadowhall and drop me a bra off at lunchtime. It was from BHS and lylac. I loved it. 32DD. Yes.
If they had offered qualifications in 'smoking, drinking, playing football and being popular' - I would have probably passed with flying colours, I'm sad to say that those subjects pretty much made my life. Actually, I probably shouldn't say that I'm sad to say that... I had a bloody good time.
I literally ate whatever I wanted and my exercise programme consisted of skiving P.E. Actually, that was more work than actually going to the lessons.
Anyway, as we moved onto year 10/11, I had pretty much given up all of that. I was a hardcore rocker whose days consisted of actually going to class (er, even P.E - which I chose as a GCSE option?) learning how to play guitar, chasing boys in bands and rocking out at The Corporation nightclub (mmm, classy.) Still, my jeans were a size 8 (although you could have fit 2 of me in each leg) and my boobs were still a 32DD.
Cue one horrendous relationship, one modelling job and a wallet full of money.
It was around this time that I applied for the role of an 'Owlette', a tongue-in-cheek website featuring girls in Wednesday shirts. Neil, the owner of the site (who I adore, the man changed my entire life) invited me along to a photoshoot (with my Mum, as I was about 17) and I suddenly realised that I was hiding behind hoodies, tent-trousers and skater shoes. I was actually teeny and, with the right lighting, quite attractive.
Eventually, modelling for Neil and his Owlettes website gave me the confidence to chuck the horrendous ex. (I almost feel harsh for calling him that, but believe me, he was. We get on OK now. OK, not great.) From then on, I was thrown into a dream world. I was getting wads of cash to totter around in a pretty dress, sell raffle tickets and hang around footballers at my favourite club. Brilliant. In fact, my friend and I used to get free drinks and entry at our favourite nightclub just to BE there. How does that work?
I admit, I probably turned into a bit of a twat. If you knew the shite I had gone through in the previous relationship, you'd probably be more understanding. On the plus side, I will hold my hands up and say that I was probably a bit of a nob back then, sorry if you knew me.
On the other hand, that time made me who I am today. As I said, Neil changed my life. Without him, I'd probably still be with the ex, living in some crappy council flat, working in the same electrical shop, drinking 20 cups of tea (yeah, really) a day and smoking 20 'fags'. Eurgh. So, in a way, again - I don't regret a thing.
Age: 18
Marital Status: Gladly single
Job: Model/Student
Boobs: 32DD
Dress Size: 8
Confidence: 7/10
Twatability: 10/10
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