The indian Giver

Marie Kondo  Ruined My Life

This book ruined my life 

I love shopping, shopping makes me happy, I am good at shopping ...lets not be modest I'm exceptionally good at shopping.  My favourite smell in the world is not the smell of Chanel thats my second favourite .  My most favouritest favouritest smell in the whole wide world is the smell of new clothes the delicate aroma that drifts up as you snip of the tags off .... sheer bliss.

My mum Is also  great shopper too but she is more disciplined than me .  She has a rule that if you buy anything you have to throw something out. This concept is totally alien to me I would rather chew my own arm off than part with one of my lovely treasures I forgot to mention I have fabulous taste !!
My home is filled with wardrobes and these are jam packed the rafters .  Surplus  garments spilling out are relegated to  clothing rails , these are like the ones you see in shops.  Oops  not forgetting those  hoover bags, I got from costco that let you store stuff taking up a 1/4 of the space.  Quite handy they suck the air out vacuum packing  the clothes so compact you can't see whats in them or remember what you put in them.  I suppose reflecting now It's where you send clothes to die.  The great Abyss that is the vacuum storage  bag.  Then the unmentionable happened I had a huge clearout.  I'm still coming to terms with it I think I'm suffering the after effects.   I'm convinced i'm suffering PTSD  disorder  (post traumatic stress disorder).

Have you ever seen that TV Program  called 'Hoarders'?   Well I watched a 7 hour  Hoarders marathon back to back.  It absolutely petrified me .  Maybe my love of clothing was getting out of hand.  The wardrobes that take over every room in my house would engulf it. When I'm old I would be found dead under a pile of DVF wrap dresses my face half eaten by a  mangy cat . Not that I have a cat  but from dramatic purposes of this story I will have a cat.  These people their  homes groaning under the weight  of their junk. Lets  get this right ,  their belongings are absolute "Tat"  pizza boxes , rusty bicycle tyres , random  dolls heads minus the body and the like.  These Hoarder people  have too much stuff they have to make these pathways to get through their houses .  I started to panic sure hadn't I just stood on the heel of an upturned stiletto ,  nearly breaking  my neck  on the shoe I left by the front door .  The stiletto booby trap , waiting patiently for me to be barefoot before 'taking me out' Maybe I have the 'hoarding' gene.  Maybe it's lying dormant . Maybe it's waiting to spring into action....

The next thing I Know i'm driving to the Trafford Centre and purchased the Maria Kondo  book 'The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up'.  It changed my lifeI read the first two chapters It gave my brain clarity I need to only keep what I love .  I went through my home like whirlwind. I stayed up all night discarding no less than 20 wheelie bin bags of stuff .  I was a the rubbish tip that morning 8am waiting for it to open.   Giddy from lack of sleep car loaded down with bags of stuff apparently I didn't love. Or I probably did love only lack of sleep  told me I didn't love, plus i'm a very fickle person .  Fur CoatBig Knickers was nearly called Fur coat No Knickers as everything was lashed out!!  My sister works in a charity shop I had car loaded with the decent  stuff most still with tags on ready for her to take into work.

My home was so empty my sister said it rattled !!  Days later the euphoria of ridding my house of belongings long gone.  The stark realization that every thing I went to look for I'd binned .
Visiting my mum , my sister arrived looking stunning in a wonderful top and jacket "Ooh their lovely  sis , I like them".  " Thanks they where in those bags I  and love that bag of dior glosses and make up you  got rid of   thanks sis"!!!   "thats my bloody make up bag i've been looking everywhere for it give it me back!!".  The worse thing is now I'm better I keep asking my sis for everything back I see her wearing.  My next stop is going to the charity shop to try and buy some of my stuff back.  I think you can describe me as cured .  My sister said its not called cured its called  being an "Indian Giver"!!

Gym Kit Drawers Folded Via the Marie Kondo Method !!

Please God.....

image via google images

Absolutely nothing fits abso'bloody'lutely  nothing, nada, nish, not a a sodding thing.  How the hell has this happened? I feel likes its happened overnight  but the reality is it hasn't.  


I work part time and save all my annual leave up like a bank account and take a hefty 3 months off every year.  (then cry I'm poor after my leave).   When I'm due back to work I start to wake with night sweats dreaming  that I can't fit into  my uniform.  The closer its gets the more I wake up then I call in the the big dogs. Healthy eating nope  what I do is I will start  to bargain with God "please God please get me in my uniform ...please please.....pretty please......I'll never ask you for another ever favour again..this week", I hastily add the onto the end . This how me and God work !!

One morning I get up to get ready for work its the middle of the night 330am Im wearing full makeup hair blown and stereotypical air hostess  bun in place .  I go to put on my work skirt when no word of a lie ,the waistband won't go past my knees ,omigod I have big knees .  Do I phone crewing "sorry I can't come to work today I've put weight on and my skirt doesn't fit ."  My boss will love that ,  my cheeks start to tingle ,my heart is going to beat out of my chest. 

 Bargaining with God is about to start any minute.  I'm on the  verge of greasing my self up with the Lucy Bee coconut oil out of  the kitchen cupboard.(it's famous for its million uses incase you haven't heard!!) . Hopping from foot to foot in my underwear after all its like a quick burst of cardio maybe that will help me drop a stone in a minute and that  the noise of it will wake God up  and he will be like  "Jesus woman I'll get you in the blasted skirt if you be quiet and let me get back to sleep."     

No messing God pulls through, he honestly pulls through. Don't get me wrong I  have suddenly been granted a miracle and he's knocked  three stone off me.  But what he has done is  made me look at the size on the label of my skirt.  I have drawers of old uniform bits when I look at the size on my work skirt that can't go past my big old knees , its only my old small size  10 work skirt that I wore a couple of years ago when I used to run a daily 10km  before damaging my knee. I 'd only ironed the wrong work skirt . Bittersweet is this triumph As  the saying goes 'god works in mysterious ways'  he certainly certainly does .  "Thank you, thank you, thank you " I keep repeating as I fish my generous size  14 skirt out the drawer and  hastily iron it . Legging  it out the door I jump in my car ,  nooooo this can't be happening to me . Only petrols is on the red.  Im going to be late no time to fill up "Please God.........I really really promise I really won't ask another favour again ......if you'll just...."
  

Have a great week

Ang x

Furcoatbigknickersblog.blogspot.com

"nothing tastes as good a skinny feels"

                                                       quote

                                                                                                    Kate Moss

Well obviously bloody Kate Moss has never tried saying no to my mum the best baker ever , even Mary Berry is looking over her shoulder.  You see my mum is tiny she'll tell you she's 5ft , she's not she's more like 4ft 11 on tip toes.  Anyway Sheelah (my mum) is a feeder she bakes all day she bakes every  christmas cake , mince pie batch , birthday cake ,biscuits , fudge , treacle toffee  even my last years birthday cake was a 'Wonder Woman' carrot cake  with frosting you name it she has it on the go. But 'Our Sheelah' is a sly arse she's never had a weight problem ever because she never, ever-ever eats  her own stuff.

So  she makes a shed load of sugary delights which me & my sis try and decline as we proper pile weight on just through inhaling the scent of vanilla . My mums lip quivers as she's showing us she loves us with cakes and we are mean ungrateful  daughters trying to drop kick her "Cupcakes of Love" as far away as we can get them. So we relent we eat her cakes piling the weight on. Our arse's spreading by the minute because we love her .  Then later that week she'll drop into a conversation , just like a soldier biting the pin out of a hand grenade and launching it at you , as your stuffing your gob with one of her left over cakes "Oooh you best go careful on them cakes your starting to pile the weight on"!!! I Swear those words are like a  knife through the heart . Sheelah's cakes are are a double edged sword or should I say 'double edged cake slice'!!

Any how I'm adamant I don't want a birthday cake and it's my birthday this week , so we shall see .....

                                                                    image via google images 

Sheelah's next batch of ammo... oops I mean cupcakes!!!

Speak soon, be good & have great week.


Ang x
furcoatbigknickersblog.blogspot.com