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I don't intend for the title of this post to be misleading but just incase anyone picked it up wrong, this is not a post about the difficulty of having larger boobs (honestly mine are not that large) although all the same I would not recommend running downstairs or shaking a bottle without a bra on (things get pretty jiggly). Plus they do prohibit me from wearing many designs of vest without looking like busty wench is the look I was going for. Anyway as I was saying, this is not the subject of this particular blog post. In fact what I mean by this title is that the problem is big and not that my boobs are. The problem that I am referring to here is the obsession that men have with all things boobs and cleavage. Obviously not all men share this fixation, some are ass men and some just keep it to their damn selves (and well done to them for managing this simple feat).  Now in many universes, I, a lady possessing boobs and they, men with boob fixations could probably peacefully

For a place that was my home for such a long time, Waterford has a strange feel to it. I don't know if I ever really adopted it as a new place I lived or did I just treat it like the various places I rented in my time there, a temporary living space, no point in buying anything too fancy because I wont be there that long. Its coming up to a year now since I left which also means a year since the break up and I can conclusively say this summer is going better than last even if there are still some feelings attached to both anniversaries.  For some reason, in the time I have been gone, I have developed a weird aversion to the city. Really I should still have some positive feelings lingering there and coming back should allow me to revisit my favourite haunts and yet I have mostly felt a strong desire to stay away.  Initially part of it was about avoiding my ex, the break up in its earlier stages was a lot easier when I mostly pretended he didn't exist. Then we had that br

Do people actually stay friends with their ex's or is that just a myth. Like real friends,  the kind where you're happy to stay in touch, keep up with their lives and not vomit when you hear they have started dating someone new. I'm asking for a friend,  that friend is me. I personally have never experienced it. That being said I've only really had three serious relationships . I suppose I have been involved with other guys in a more casual fashion. It could be said that we dated but I wouldn't have gone as far as introducing them to someone as a boyfriend. But my first serious relationship did a bit of emotional damage and it took me a while to allow someone close to me again . My second serious relationship was worse. When it ended, there was more cause for a restraining order than there was the possibility of friendship. It was a dark and twisty one that didn't relinquish its hold on me until long after the break up. So my last and longest relationshi

I have recently started attending counselling and I don't feel any shame in admitting this. Although people can be weird about that sort of thing. I recently told someone I didn't know particularly well and they recoiled as though I had divulged I was on my way to an STI clinic. Truthfully this is not my first time to attend counselling and it quite possibly wont be my last and that's okay. I think as someone who admits I need this support, I am doing a lot better than another person who is burying feelings that could be aired out in a safe setting. I have had a number of life experiences in my thirty six years and not all of them have left the sweetest aftertaste. Most of these things are far too personal for me to comfortably talk about in my blog. This is partially down to a fear of confessing too much, also I don't actually know who reads this and then there is always the fear of judgement on me as a person and the life choices I did or did not make that allo

I've admittedly not had the easiest of weeks. In my previous blog post I was telling everyone about a herbal remedy I was trying to clear up a UTI. I had tried an anti biotic and was no better for it so I felt it was worth a shot. Spoiler alert, the remedy didn't work. Now that doesn't mean that the remedy is no good as such but more likely that I was too sick for it to be much help. I'd had the infection for two weeks. Anyway over my long weekend in work I continued to get considerably sicker so much so that I found myself contacting Care doc as my shift ended Sunday night. It probably didn't help matters that I had only finished night duty a week prior and had not managed to catch up on my sleep because the combination of sunburn, UTI and the heat meant I was getting less sleep than I can manage to function on and so adding to the sleep debt rather than recovering. Caredoc managed to fit me in at 10.30. By the time I got into a DR, I was tired, in discomfort a