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Day 20  Diary of an unsuccessful weeks weight loss wummin


It had to happen. It’s a stayed the same week. I often write STS as shorthand for stayed the same but ALWAYS have to check as I’m feart I write STD. You know when things are in your head and you don’t want to say them but they’re hovering in the background threatening to pop out at the most inappropriate times? Yeah, that.


Reminds me of the time I took baby Lauren, as she was then, my niece, to one of her wee friends birthday party. My sister and brother-in-law were busy so I offered to help out and take her. For all that I appear outgoing, I am basically a shy person. Years of bullying at primary and secondary school I ‘spose. I have learned to fake it ‘til I make it over the years, and I’ve got quite good at it!


Anyway, we entered the party and Lauren immediately ran off leaving me on my own. An unknown adult standing in the middle of a children’s party eying up the bouncy castle with barely unconcealed jealousy of the weans already in it.


I was approached by the mother, I assumed, of the birthday boy/girl. ‘Hi! Can I help you?’ Bright and sparkly but an underlying threat of violence if I wasn’t here on superhero business.

‘Hi, I’m Lauren’s auntie, just dropping her off, when should I come back for her?’

The words I was dreading erupted from her face…

‘Please stay, we’ve tea, coffee and a buffet for the adults in another room.’


Usually that would be me sold, the offer of food, but the thought of conversing with parents of children fills me with dread. I am not a parent, I’m an auntie. As soon as the mothers found out I was just an auntie, I was shunned! I couldn’t converse in child chat so I wasn’t wanted, I was chucked in the corner.


***This is where the point of these ramblings comes into play. On retelling this story with emotions heady and raw I mixed up the letter at the beginning of chucked for an f. It made perfect sense too to be honest!!***


Dreading the remaining 58 minutes of the hour long torture I decided to bring out brave Gill. I’ve always found it easier to talk to men than women so I made my way over to the Dad’s group. I was welcomed immediately, stories of beer, football and man stuff. I held my own in the Dad’s group to the point where I was encouraged to tell one of my football related episodes and to my delight, it was met with guffaws and uproarious laughter.


This attracted the Mum’s attentions and suddenly they saw the threat of a single wummin (I was married but they didn’t know that) regaling and entertaining their men.

I suddenly became the most interesting person in the room to the women, asking what I did, where I lived, was I married (I said no, my bad)! It was the best birthday party I’d been to in a long time, folk fetching me coffee, buffet and cake, I didn’t want to leave but grabbing my party bag and niece I left with my head held high and invites to the next party.

So, in conclusion, a STS is better than an STD and occasionally it does you good to be chucked in the corner!!?!



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