Do You Want to Build a Snowman?

Earlier today, I asked my sister if she had to compare me to a Disney character, which one would I be? She replied without hesitation “you’d be Anna from “Frozen”, because you always want to build a bloody snowman!”

  The question came about, because I’d been reading by friend Ali’s blog “The Ali Sandwiches” and she’d been speaking how her inner Snow White constantly battles with her inner Dobby the House Elf and how she fights between letting one rule the other and it set me thinking…....

95% of the time my inner Anna wins every single time, I’m the first one who wants to pull on her boots, winter coat and gloves and head outside to build a snowman (if it’s snowing obviously) I’m up for trying anything once – see my previous blogs on pole dancing and burlesque (which I still do!)

  But over the last few weeks, my inner Cinderella has silenced my inner Anna… Trinderella if you will. I don’t mean the one who gets to get all dressed up, go to a party and meet a fit prince. I mean the one who thinks she’s only good enough to stay at home and do the chores. It’s not even the Cinderella who manages to convince various woodland creatures that making her a frock is a good idea.

 The last few weeks have been really tough and I’ve really struggled with my emotions for many reasons. I’ve felt like I’ve had to fight to prove my worth in just about every situation, whether it’s been what I’m being paid, to actually getting people to acknowledge my very existence. I think I understand how twins must feel, when they get dismissed as one person, just recently I’ve found myself answering to my sister’s name…even in e-mails!!! And being lumped into the X Factor category of “The Girls”, which is sort of flattering, but I’ll be 40 next year and Simon Cowell is nowhere to be seen!

  I apparently also have magical powers to fix everyone’s problems, my favourite was an acquaintance asking me to locate her an antique Welsh dresser! Why I would know where to find one of those is beyond me!

  I think I let all these things grind me down and Anna was sent to her room, to dream of building snowmen, whilst Trinderella scrubbed floors and tried to make sure everyone else had a lovely life. My diet has been unimportant, there's been a pound lost here, half a pound gained here, it hasn't really mattered.

  Hanging out with my God-daughter Eve at the weekend, helped put things into perspective. Eve is 3 years old, but she likes to whisper loudly in secret to Lucy that she’s the one who looks after me! She’s 3; she knows the difference between Aunty Katie and Aunty Lucy! Eve arrives, budges Cyril up so she can sit on my knee, declares that Cyril is one of her dogs and then decides we should eat pink cake and play on the park. Sounds like a plan to me!

  Seeing Eve and her brother Nate, running around like lunatics and enjoying everything made me happy. Before I knew it, we were planning a trip to go trampolining, cinema and a craft afternoon, where I think I promised Eve, there’d be painting. 

  My inner Anna was back; life is about adventures and trying things and not having to prove anything to anybody. If someone tries to put you down by using then wrong name, then screw them. Maybe it’s not disrespectful to be referred to as “the Girls”. Me and my sister are an unbreakable force, (think Ant and Dec, but without the millions and a love of golf) some people never get that type of friendship in their life. And I can’t solve everyone’s problems and truth be told, I don’t even know what a Welsh dresser is, let alone where to find one and I’m OK with that!

  I always tease Eve that I’m her Fairy Godmother, but truth is, I think she’s mine!

A Toddler in a Sweetshop

I went to visit my godchildren last night, armed with some “Frozen” jewellery and a 10 piece joke kit (yes my friend was delighted, I’d introduced her 5 year old son to the joys of fake poo and a water squirting ring) General commotion ensued, it sounded a bit like this....

“Oh no Aunty Katie, someone’s done a poo on the floor” (me pretend horrified) “not really, it’s fake”

“Look at my lovely ring Aunty Katie” (cue me getting squirted in the face)

Nate and Eve

There were tales of Minions, pictures to colours, Eve wanted the same “Chuggington” story three times. 

Nate’s bedtime reading was slightly more sophisticated and was the tale of a King who loved sweets so had a giant sweet machine installed in the kingdom. However, the neighbouring Baron Greedyguts (anyone thinking this author had taken his inspiration from Dickens?) decided he wanted to steal his sweet machine. Apparently the best way to steal a sweet machine is to get your pet dragons to do lots of poos and then fling the poo at the sweet machine, so you can steal it. The evil Baron was defeated by a crafty Knight and the horrible Baron Greedyguts ended up the one covered in Dragon poo (Not nice is it Baron Greedyguts?!) The King was so horrified by all the sweets he’d been eating that he turned his de-pooed sweet machine into a giant exercise bike for the whole kingdom and they all lived a very healthy and sweet-free life. The end.

  As I kissed Nate goodnight to shouts of “Aunty Katie, come here” room Eve’s room. I realised that just recently my diet had very much resembled an unsupervised toddler in a sweetshop, who had gorged on e numbers and was just plain old running riot. I’d fallen into the trap of thinking I didn’t need structure or to keep a diary of what I was eating, I could do it on my own. I cancelled my Weight watchers subscriptions a couple of weeks ago and had kidded myself into thinking I knew better.

  My “light bulb” moment came a couple of weeks, as I stood in my kitchen, scooping scooped Nutella out of a jar and onto a digestive biscuit, I say “a digestive biscuit”, it was actually 7, I was embarrassed by myself. So I did what all sensible people do, I finished the jar of Nutella; it’s simply not safe for me to have it in the house and reinstated my Weight Watchers membership.

The digestives pre-Nutella

10 days in and after my first weigh in and I am 5 pounds lighter, thank goodness! I was chatting to my sister Lucy about it, as she’d fallen into the same Nutella filled trap and we decided that we respond to order, we respond to rules and we need that element of planning in our lives.

  I wont lie, it was enjoyable to run riot for a little bit, but just like Liz Taylor and Richard Burton, me and Nutella can’t maintain a functioning relationship, so I think it’s time for us to split forever (or until I let my inner toddler have a little run round)

Me as a baby, before Nutella was invented and gingerbread men were my "drug" of choice