Monthly Archives: March 2012

48 Easter Eggs and 9 days to go….


As you know, I have given up chocolate for Lent. Not bloody easy. I’m not Catholic. I just got caught up in a “stoopid” facebook moment and announced it on my status. Boo Hoo…

How has giving up on chocolate benefited me? Bugger all, I will confess. Niks. Nada. Stuff all as my Dad would say. I’ve lost no weight. I’ve stayed the same.

But….dot…dot…dot….I have realised one thing…and that is, that I CAN do it. Me, a self-confessed chocster of note.

 I can withhold and be all like…”no, I can’t have that chocolate cake. No thanks, I won’t, like, eat that chocolate brownie.”

My friends are shocked. I can see it in their eyes. They quickly disguise it though. So, they don’t come across as non-supportive.

So here is to next Sunday. Easter Sunday. Mommy can’t wait to see you. Coz when you come….so does the shoving in of the chocolate between these lips.  Come to mama.

 And so, in preparation today(for next Sunday), I bought the kids a box of 48 marshamallow eggs to share, and THEN I bought another box of 48 eggs for ME ALONE! Yes, relax, I’m not exaggerating, I CAN eat a whole box. I’m pretty sure. It might take me a while. But I’ll give it a good backhand and show it who’s Boss!


Mills and Boons, The Thorn birds and other stories….


Its’s raining here at the moment. Lovely big drops and  shining wet grass everywhere. So I decided to curl up on the bed with a book. The Thorn Birds. Yes, the book about the delicious Catholic priest and the little Australian Outback Meggie. The date it was first published is 1978.

My mom caught me reading this book in Std 5 and had 10 shits of note! I remember her ranting and raving like a loony and begging me to never EVER read a Mills and Boons. So I promptly did. 100’s of the things.

My bookcases from Std 5 right through to Std 8 heaved and sagged from Penny Jordan’s Mills and Boons. And/or any Mills and Boon I could get my hands on. I eventually grew out of it and grew more discerning but I never recovered from that yearning of a man kissing me in anger and clutching my heaving breast through my cotton shirt on the shores of a Tropical island, while his throbbing manhood pressed against my desiring oyster….or whatever…

Seriously the number of adjectives an average Mills and Boons, goes through must be in the 1000’s.

I’ve since discovered that sex isn’t always hot and angry and passionate. Who knew? I would never have guessed that in Std 5?

So here I’ am, stuck with the Thorn Birds, which isn’t as hot and steamy as I remember it to be. I think its coz my mom wouldn’t mind me reading it now…and that sort of takes the fun out of it!

The lady is a……………


Lately we’ve seen a lot of the same people at the same kinda functions. That’s a farming community for you.

You may think: same people , same conversations. Yes, pretty much, give or take…

We have the wife that gets the shits with her husband in 5 seconds flat, that wants to leave as soon as she’s arrived. Unfortunately the rest of us have to listen to the bitching and moaning. We all listen patiently when, I think, all any one of us wants to say: “Get in your car and fuck off then. Please I beg of you!”

Then there’s the pissed lush that is an absolute bitch to any woman who wants to talk to her. Passive aggressive drunk. The one you stay clear of. That will chirp you loudly with an embarrassing comment. Your face will blush with shame and embarrassment. This particular woman loves hanging onto the husbands and has been known, on the odd occasions to try to kiss a girl coz she likes it!

Then you get the woman known as the epitome of a lady. She drinks too much red wine and practises very hard to come across sober. But the blackened red wine stained teeth give it away. She squints her eyes, cocking her head to one side and focuses very carefully.

Such is the life of a farming community…..


’til later then…….


Busy last week of term. We went  camping with the school last night. Had such a lovely time. There was only cold water though so only bathed when we got back. Oh……the joys of camping.

Perfect timing. Only one night, so no time to get irritated with anyone.

But we’re back and now I have to sit and do office work for the rest of the day. Year end and I need to make updated employee files. We’ve just hired more staff and I like to upgrade all files every few months.

Bit of Dullsville going on here. Can’t think until I’ve completed all my chores.

‘Til later then……….

school ties, friends and red wine….


I had two friends visit this weekend. School friends from High School. I’ve been out of school for 21 years. Old school friends, particularly hostel friends, are like sisters. You pick up where you left off. You have so much in common coz you went through those damaged, fucked up confusing teenage years together.

I always tell John how much I love teenagers. Especially the 85 teenagers in my Sunday School class. It’s such a confusing time being a teenager. You’re hormonal, not  a child and not an adult yet, you feel stirrings in your loins for the first time, you’re rebellious, moody, confused, depressed and excited to start your life. You experiment with clothes, with boys, with how far you can push your teachers. you’re hailed an absolute hero if you can actually make your teacher cry.

 Well it was like that in our day. After prep(2 hour evening homework session)  one night in hostel, I think I was in standard 8, a girl made Mr L cry. Mr L was a 28-year-old student at Rhodes and a hostel master. She literally broke his spirit and the grown man, studying theology at Rhodes broke down at half past 8 at night and sobbed in front of 120 girls. The sad thing was that he got no sympathy. The 120 girls howled and shrieked with laughter. They mocked and scorned and goaded the poor bastard….

I think he’s still scarred from that night. We remembered this story at last years School Reunion, with exquisite fondness as a highlight of our school career. Of course we had knocked back a case or two of red wine whilst reminiscing….

So girls, thanks for the visit and for the laugh last night. I loved it.

Oh yes, I promise you…we haven’t peaked yet!

A letter to my mom-in-law…..


A letter for my mom in law on the 9 month anniversary of her death:

Dear Mom,

I miss you. I miss you every day.

 I keep wanting to phone you and tell you about how beautifully Aidan is reading and how happy he is at school. Yesterday he gave such a lovely oral about vultures. He was so nervous, he looked me straight in the eyes and never left my gaze once the whole time. But he delivered it so well. He loved his tennis party and his new tennis racket. He’s tired though and I think he’s ready for this holiday. Yesterday after school, we filled up a bucket of water and he sat in my flower bed and made muffins. (mud balls). Him and Molly were covered in mud from tip to toe. Molls thought it was the best thing out.

Aidan started cricket a few weeks ago. He seems to be enjoying it. We got him a bat for his birthday too. He is growing by the minute and makes us laugh all the time. I still have to limit TV to an hour a day coz he’s obsessed like his Dad. Top Gear and he loves a good movie.

Molls’ teeth are growing all crooked. There are about 4 missing. She’s loving me at the moment and I think Seko is quiet jealous. May has taken out 4 polystyrene tubes out of her polyotter, so she’s half way to swimming on her own now. I think she sees you in C and K coz she gets so excited when she  sees them and starts laughing and giggling.

Her birthday this year was the happiest of all her birthdays so far. I didn’t feel sad this time. I rejoiced in all she could do and never felt bereft at all she couldn’t do. We missed your phone call on the day though. When I sat down after school and after the party that afternoon and had time to reflect, I realised what was missing and it was your phone call. I missed telling you everything about the day. The cake I made her was so homemade looking, but beautiful and she loved it. I decorated the table in pinks and blues and made her a princess party dress. It had THREE bloody layers. You would have been proud.

%%$# misses you the most. She cried on the phone the other day. And **&^^ too. I miss you too. So much.

There’s no-one to bounce my fears and hopes and dreams off on about the kids. John listens to a degree. But he doesn’t listen like a girl. Doesn’t listen like you.

Anyway, I’m sure you’re bossying everyone around up there. I can actually hear you giggling like a young girl at one of Dad’s jokes. I bet he was sure glad to see you.

We miss you but this is the happiest John and I have been in so long. Your cancer sucked the life out of us for a while. But we keep thinking back to last year this time and reflect on all that we have and all that we have lost. And you’re happy now and that’s what matters most.

Thank you for all that you EVER did for me, John and the kids.




Built like a Solid Brick Shithouse and other fat stories….


Since this is called The Fat Diaries, I’d like to elaborate on a passionate subject of mine related to weight and body image.

The subject being: CONFIDENCE

I have this mantra I live by. Whatever you do, do it with confidence. Repeat after me, Whatever you do, do it with confidence.

To use a well-loved phrase of my Dad’s, even though I’m built like a Solid Brick Shit-House, I never let my weight hold me back from doing things.

You know the huge obese fat person swimming and frolicking merrily in the waves of a December afternoon in the sweltering Summer heat? That’s me. You know the fat fuck that laughs uproariously as she belts it down a slide at iShaka in Durban? That’s me.

You know the mom that swims with her kids in the pool while the other moms try to disguise their shock and horror on their loungers on the side of the pool? That’s me.

In my heart I’m thinnish. In my soul I’m nimble and sexy and capable. What must I do? So I do the things I want to do…with relish and aplomb.

So stuff  you, and the horse you rode in on, should you judge me!

No-ones perfect….

later bitches………