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Middle weight

One of the issues I have had all my life is my weight, bullied for my early development of a womanly body, and then a huge weight gain during the “bad years”, I have struggled with my physical body. I am now the smallest I have been in the last ten years and yet I still hate my figure and “compare” myself to others. To try to get my “weight” in some perspective I wanted to see how I rank within UK “averages”. I am size 12/14, 11 stone and 7 pounds (73kg),  I am about 5’6 (165 cm) and my vitals are 36-31-44 and I am an E cup Now this is purely about learning to love my body, and while they may be medical issues with my size that is not what I am looking at today.

According to the Daily Mail in an article from two years ago that the average woman weights 11 stone, but they indicate what that means relevant to your height. According to this article than I should be embracing this for now, but should think about exercising, so I do not become fat in the future.

An article in the Telegraph again from two years ago has the average hips as 36in and waist as 30in. This is also highlights that the hourglass figure that according to the subtle hints by the male writer of this article, is what men truly desire, is on the decline from the 50’s when the average waist was 27.5in and hips were 39ins. it is also shows the hip-to-waist ratio was in the 50’s was 0.7 where as modern women have a 0.83, whatever any of that means.

Talking of what men like in women, according to an article in the Mirror from last year, the average women’s breasts are a 34DD, although Welsh women have the biggest breasts with the average being 34E. However, the results can be slightly askew from the fact that it does include women who have breast enhancement and therefore this “average” may not have been reached naturally. This means that on average women’s breast size, like everything else, has increased.

So overall I am “average” or slightly below or above. The only place that is nowhere near the average in my hips, which over 8ins above the average. That is one part of my body I am still loathing after this “research” but I feel more at peace with the rest of my body and with me calling myself pretty yesterday these are small steps to something positive. Of course this is NOT scientific and is flawed. Below is the links to the article that I mentioned in this piece.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2071870/The-average-weight-British-woman-comes-shapes.html

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/health/healthnews/8335282/Modern-women-not-as-shapely-as-they-like-to-think.html

http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/average-bra-size-has-swelled-by-three-1370021

Depression interpreter

As those who regularly read my blog knows that I have been dealing with my depression which had been focusing on my body image, but something has happened today that has swept that aside. I am going for an assessment day tomorrow, I can not find my birth certificate, my only form of ID, so what do I do? I shout and rage at myself, I tell myself I am useless, that I am no use to anyone, and that I determined to continue to fuck up my life, and therefore I would be better off dead. This is followed with my hitting myself until I am sobbing my heart out, weakened by the emotions that is flowing through me. The was not a short sharp snap, this was 30 minutes of hate, rage and feeling sorry for myself. Of course, once I calmed down I rang the people, explained the situation and they were fine about it. Now that I am away from the excuse of blaming the ex, I had to actually consider why I react the way I do. To me, I felt like I was the mother telling off a stupid child until under the weight of the sheer emotion placed on it the child cried inconsolably tears. Why do I do it now as a adult? Why am I playing the role of both child and mother?

As far as I am aware, neither parents hit me or shouted at me an exceptional amount. In fact they has always been a distant between mother and I, that I have always felt that I brought myself up. Is this me reacting to the lack of interaction that I did not have as a child? Even if it is, it still feels like an overreaction to what essentially is a silly mistake. Or am I secretly sabotaging my own happiness? The conflict being between the demon that want me to continue to feed it vs the angel that wants me to have what I deserve. But apart from the self harming aspect of this, is my rage so bad? Yes and no, getting rid of emotions is good, however I am clearly not going about it the right way. In the past I knew that these emotions were cause by the feeling trapped and while life is not perfect I am a lot nearer to it than I was. I am going to take my sorry self into town and wallow and when I feel ready I will look more into finding a “safer” way to deal with my emotions.

They suffocate with depression

Today is World Mental Health Day. It has also been during this week that I have come to an important decision about my own bouts of depression, which is to deal with it. Leaving the hell behind has meant that the numbness of the past few years have melt away. This is great, I laugh, joke, enjoy life and are happier and healthy (and skinnier) than I have been for a long time, until the black dog starts to bark. While the highs are amazing, the lows are becoming crippling. Along with my depression, my battle with eating disorders and panic attacks have also resurfaced.

Why now? Well I am in a place where I can try to deal with it. There was no point in my eyes dealing with it before as I was trying to help someone else deal with their issues, that I did not have the energy to deal with my own. I know my friends have always been there for me, but with the highs I feel more connected to my friends and feel more inclined to reach out to them when I am low. I also have a special someone who is more than willing to help me, but why should I expect him to deal with my pain if I am not willing to deal with them myself. So today is a start of a long battle that I may never win, but to go beyond just existing and to start living again, that is victory enough for me.

Where muses go.

This quote by Plato “Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.” has ended me up in a debate about muses and poetry. It was implied that I use my muse, my emotions as crutches when writing my poetry. After talking it over with several other poets the conclusion was reached about the “truth” of the poetry itself and not the process of getting there. I will never be able to write on cue because I can not to disengage myself from my emotions and this comes out in my work and to be honest I do not want to. Poetry for me is the release of all that is in my heart onto paper. In recent years it has been pain, depression and misery before it consumes me. Now I am in love will this “need” change? Let’s wait and see.

The night the doctor died.

I am a bit of a geek, I have a bit of a fascination with time travel. I love the idea of travelling back in time “putting right what once went wrong” (yes I am a leaper!). And yes this does mean that I am a Whovian and yes this is yet another blog about Dr Who, not about who the new Dr is but who it is not. The Metro ran an article about why he was glad that the new Dr was not a woman. This made me think about time travellers in general and apart from females being part of a team of travellers like Samantha Carter in SG-1 or Capt. Maggie Beckett in Sliders, woman do not have a solo time travelling passport. So was I hoping for a female Dr Who? Actually no, the Dr should stay male, it is a time-honoured (no pun intended) tradition that works, but how about a series with a lead female time traveller. And I will be quite willing to play that role.

Love to burn

After a sleepless night I have been pondering more about love, (sleeplessness caused by heat, and not thinking about love) . We tend to view our lovers body as territory to lay claim on, about possessing the other. Satre states that sexual desire is unstable and contradictory. We turn the person into a thing while still wanting them to be human enough so they can love us. I know I have said this myself “I want all of you” but how can you possess a person as they are subjective. However, Plato has given us a different spin on the need to possess and become one, that we were once one person split into two and that is why we are searching for the lost half, so we can once again become a harmonised whole again.  I am not really any the wiser. To become one or not to become one that is the question?

Thank you for the love.

I think anyone that regularly follows my blog, they will know when it is not full of paganism, it is full of bad poetry about unrequited love. But recently I started thinking what is it I am actually desiring when I am looking love. There is no clear-cut answer. I am desire his body and his personality but these pleasurable sensations can not be all that I am desiring. Lovers enjoy time in each other company and these pleasure must be reciprocated. My pleasure in my muse heightens his pleasure which in turn heightens my own and so forth. Therefore love is at least two people so they can become a “we”. The problem of this to become a “we” individuality can be lost as two become one. The stronger will devour the weaker until their cries are stifled, the stronger one, is now alone, unloved and unloving. Or least that is what recent experience has taught me. Maybe I need to ponder this some more.

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