Wait ‘til You See My Smile

It is fair to say that growing up – I was a crazy moo. Smiley, happy and mad as a box of frogs. I also had the energy of a Duracell bunny – on acid.

Then, at 15 years old – something changed. As an A* student, it was most out of character for me to fall asleep in my GCSE History exam. I ate iced buns by the dozen and endeavoured to satisfy my unquenchable thirst by downing roughly 396 gallons of water a day. It became an effort to walk 100 yards to the bus-stop, at 5’6″ my weight plummeted to 6 stone, I had constant halitosis and to add insult to injury – my hair started falling out. This was not the look I was going for to bag myself a hottie.

Being a teenager – I would rather have stuck a fork in my eye than talked to my parents about this – as it was, like sooo embarrassing. So I didn’t. I took the sensible approach of suffering in silence, sleeping 14 hours a day and almost failing my GCSEs. Genius, I know.

Despite my best attempts to hide the fact that by 16 – I had developed the get up and go of a 98 year old and the body of an 8 year old – my parents noticed. Damn them. One trip to the GP and a pee in a cup later and I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes.

Admittedly, upon diagnosis, my life fell apart a little bit, but I soon moved on. 12 and a half years later – happy, healthy, energetic and mad as a box of frogs once more – I am able to share 3 key pieces of diabetic wisdomery with the world:

  1. Never ask a diabetic “Should you be eating that?” They will punch you in the face.
  2. Life is frickin’ awesome. Be grateful for it and enjoy every minute.
  3. Smile every single day.

The True Confessions of Me, aged 29 and a little bit

I heard a vicious rumour that confession is good for the soul. With this in mind, I have decided to share my many crimes, faults and misdemeanours with the world. Brace yourselves:

I strongly believe that chewing gum is a filthy habit.

I habitually chew gum.

Not once have I retained the packaging for future reference. Does anyone?

I cried when Max said goodbye to OB on Hollyoaks. Yes, really.

I think Bruce Forsyth is highly overrated. There, I’ve said it. (Please don’t hurt me).

Only when accompanied by a small child, do I wait for the lights to change at a pedestrian crossing.

I am aware that I risk death by a thousand scorch marks when coughing loudly in the presence of smokers. Nonetheless – I have a point to make.

I have been known to eat my way through half a tube of Pringles in one sitting. Then cry.

I have a discoloured tooth, which contrary to popular belief – is not the result of poor dental hygiene, but the outcome of a food fight at University that got out of hand. Never take on your friend when she’s armed with a broom – you won’t win.

I know I talk too much. This does not stop me.

My mother taught me that “If you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all”. I am yet to master this. (Please see previous comment).

I have no idea what the terms “well jel” or “reem” mean, nor do I care. You have permission to slap me with a mackerel if I ever use them in a sentence without a hint of irony.

I once got very excited about the arrival of our new washing machine.

I love to mock people who take trivial games seriously, by overtly cheating in their presence. Potting pool balls with your hands always goes down well. (No pun intended).

If Princess Mercedes Armani von Fluffinton poops on my rosebush one more time – I shall pelt her with a pineapple.

I have a secret crush on Kermit the Frog. Please don’t tell my husband – or Miss Piggy.