Hi Ho, hi ho. Back to therapy I go!

I’m very well aware that recently the posts have been positive and life affirming for me. Well, I’m writing today and I haven’t stopped greeting….

Now; this could be the new med I just started yesterday, it could be PMT or it could be that getting dumped unceremoniously by text while on holiday (don’t worry, it was just a few dates) was the straw that broke the camels back in a shit show of a year!

Whatever the cause, you all know by now that pouring it out in a wee blog post is my coping mechanism.

Hedging my bets, I contacted both the NHS psychologist who has been my therapist for the last 3 rounds and The Moira Anderson Foundation who I had my first lot of therapy with; way back when I hadn’t even been diagnosed with anything yet.

I had been having a bit of a spiral anyway and had very sensibly (even if I do say so myself) referred myself back to therapy. My physical health has been shocking since before Christmas and the wait to see consultants has been long. I’ve been absolutely terrified about the ramifications of my health on my quality of life and safe to say, that, along with the usual shite has had me bouncing off the walls.

The Moira Anderson Foundation is a charity that you can also self refer to if you fit their criteria. I think it’s worth mentioning that if you are in crisis or just need to start the healing process. There are charities out there that offer the same services, my G.P. initially gave me their details so it’s definitely worth a conversation if you want to get started. This time, I would have waited 5 months for NHS help but was only 10 weeks with the charity.

As always, none of these posts are for you to feel sorry or pity me. Just to tell it like it is in the hope that it resonates with someone somewhere.

The constant unknown with what’s going on physically has certainly taken it’s toll over the last 8 months and I’m hanging on in there. Using all my mental health toolbox to help. It’s not just the ‘usual’ crazy symptoms but not knowing if it might not be lupus after all and why you are having headaches that are taking away your vision and speech then throw in weird wee non epileptic seizures and it’s all a wee bit scary for a girl.

This post is really me taking a breath, I finally got to see a rheumatologist last week and have a wee appointment to see if I actually have a brain this week. I can only hope for some clarity soon…..

But; as usual it’s necessary to be grateful for the amazing things that have also happened in that time.

I tried to finish school, published 2 articles, project managed a one day wellness festival with my pal, organised a surprise birthday, kept up with the amazing East end community radio as long as I could, tip toed in the depths of online dating (I’m sure the majority of men in Glasgow have no emotional maturity whatsoever) (wee dig? Well if the shoe fits but let’s not get bitter 😉) and finally managed an amazing week in the sun with a dear friend. This makes it even more frustrating that I’m feeling so rubbish, I just had the best week away relaxing and soaking up the sun and laughing with a pal. 2 days later, I’m not loving life and it’s doing my head in.

And then; logic kicks in and I have to remind myself that I managed all of this whilst in the middle of the worst flare of whatever is wrong with me that I’ve had in years. I’ve been admitted to hospital several times, so it’s no wonder I’m shimmying back to some talking therapy to ground myself again.

I’ve never been great at pacing myself and the end result is probably feeling like this. But the main thing, I think. Is to recognise what’s going on, be accountable for it and take the right steps to make yourself feel better. I harp on about this all the time but it’s time to take my own advice. Be kind to yourself first and foremost, don’t forget your own power, practice gratitude and try to live with grace even when you feel like howling at the moon!

Big love as always from me 💜

My Bloody Valentine?

Ah, it’s Valentines day. Absolutely a hallmark holiday, but it could be very easy to get caught up on social media in the barrage of roses and hearts and let your head and heart sink a bit if you’re single. Don’t!

It’s a funny one; because, of course I’d love to share my life with someone wonderful and buy into the cheesy nonsense of the day but it’s also actually almost four years to the day that I packed a bag and left my marriage. I very seldom talk of it because that’s just a bit too intimate for even me to share with the world.

What I will say is that it became unbearable and did a good number on messing my already messy head up even more. It did contribute to the already present undiagnosed Cptsd. It was a long time coming and there was a straw that broke the camels back, so to speak.

That’s not what this post is about though, I’m sitting today celebrating me, myself and I because in four years, my life and self couldn’t actually be any different.
I don’t feel at all like the person who shakily called her parents to get me out of there. I have put in a lot of work and so today, I’m celebrating that.

Of course, living alone gets lonely at times but I have the dogs and am surrounded by ever loving friends and family. I have healthy boundaries and when someone comes along, that’ll be lovely. It’s not really about that though, I don’t need that external validation anymore so I’m going to have a not so humble brag now.

It’s about being proud of overcoming most of the obstacles in my way, it’s about starting from scratch in my 40’s, it’s about finding a new purpose and direction in life, it’s about redefining what I actually want out of life and the people around me.

And even though I couldn’t see a way through anything four years ago, there wasn’t just a path. There was a bloody exciting new motorway to drive on!

I never imagined I’d be giving it big licks on a community radio station every week or be paid for writing. The love of writing began with this very blog as a cathartic exercise to calm my brain down and now I’m going to follow that dream and get paid to do it.

Let’s keep it real though, I still opened the car door and battered my face at the weekend. So; still absolutely ridiculous and unsafe in the real world at times….

My base emotion is no longer just anger and fear; that in itself is life changing. I can guarantee if you’re doing the work right now, realising how much more laid back you become is a great feeling.

Of course, it’s all still a work in progress and there are still curve balls to deal with. Keeping myself on an even keel when my physical health has been playing up since the start of the year has been a challenge. I’m getting there though and I can’t stress enough how much your inner commentary affects the external outcome.

I know what hurdles I still want to jump and posts like this remind me that I can and will do them. I just need to put my mind to it and concentrate on the next step.

I do have my degree in singleness today, that’s OK though. I’m going to see some of my favourite people for some food later instead of sitting alone. I don’t know if this will help or resonate with anyone else but it’s a reminder to keep bloody going. Life can change beyond recognition in a relatively short space of time and if I can do it. So can you.

Keep doing the work and be grateful for everything you have achieved, try not to dwell on the curveballs and always always be kind to yourself first and foremost. You’ll be surprised at what those small things can help you achieve.

Happy Valentines day to everyone and Big love from me 💜

Get your kicks in Ward 66….

The start of 2022 has been a rocky one for me, my good intentions of a dry (ish) January were enforced a few weeks ago when I was diagnosed with a kidney infection and possible kidney stones. I hadn’t been feeling great for a few weeks before that, I’d asked for blood to be taken just before Christmas because I just didn’t feel quite right. Now, I’m very well aware that could have just been the winter blues and a bit of a Fibromyalgia flare but it didn’t really feel like that’s what it was so off I went to be checked. And so it began…..

After a week of antibiotics and pain relief, a follow up with my GP resulted in my immediate admission to Ward 66. Now; let me be clear, I felt bloody awful, was worried sick about what was going on but with the ongoing plague. Hospital was the last place I wanted to be.

What happened next then?

Patience readers, patience.

I’m sure your thoughts must be that a week in a room with five other women in a busy surgical ward sounds like hell and there were certainly aspects of my stay that were far from Bupa! The food was pretty rotten, sleep was sporadic at best, I really did feel like death warmed up but I’m writing this post with a full heart from my experience last week.

We read all over social media about groups of women being a powerful force, I have already experienced this in every day life with my friends. I’ve written before about the effect a right good laugh can have on our general mental health and how important this is for me. I’ve also written several times about how lucky I am to have the friends and family around me that I do.

What I didn’t bargain for, was leaving Ward 66 with a handful more of those friends. But, that’s exactly what has happened. I’m very sure this isn’t always the case and I could as easily be writing a blog post lamenting of a terrible experience. Maybe the stars aligned exactly as needed but whatever the reason, I’m here for it.

Here we were; six complete strangers, with an eclectic mix of medical problems. All with the real possibility of surgery. A few changes to the cast of us during the week I was there but not much change to camaraderie that was apparent from the moment I arrived. Every one of us anxious of what might come about in our health but all with the ability to make each other feel calmer.

We all spent the week doped up on various pain medication and having tests for this, that and the next thing. And each time someone was taken away for a scan or other such thing, there was genuine concern until they arrived back on the ward.

There were moments of outrageous chat and absolute hilarity, well, until we exhausted ourselves in the states we were in! I spoke more about my bowel movements than I ever have before.

But in amongst all of that; there were very real conversations about life. No hold barred chats that I know we all benefited from. Deep and meaningful conversations usually reserved for very close friends, yet they seemed like the most natural thing ever.

Now, I don’t know about you but I feel pretty damn grateful for that. Yet again, something very special from something pretty awful. undoubtedly down to the specific circle of women involved, all from different walks of life and age groups. An experience to be treasured despite the original circumstances. I know for a fact that we all felt better having each other there last week and for that I thank every single one of you. I hope that the phone numbers exchanged and the messages sent continue and that I really have made some new friends.

The power of women at it’s very finest indeed.

Tick tock…

• 

Well then, how was that a year?

They say time flies when you are enjoying yourself but that certainly isn’t necessarily true for 2021.

Personally there have been crushing disappointments and grief but big highs too. Put that with a global pandemic and there’s certainly been some tough weeks or even months.

The start of the year was amazing for me despite the lockdown and plague. I managed to actually get my shit together and put loads of effort into the daily practices that I need and I felt bloody brilliant despite everything going on round me.

Then came a bitter disappointment in the middle of summer and I’ve fought with myself and those daily practices since….

There was tragedy at the end of summer and going into winter was a real struggle this year. I’ve been in constant pain and the fatigue has been a killer but I’ve been trying my best as that’s all we can all do.

Although, don’t get me wrong. It’s not been all doom and gloom by any stretch. There have been many many good times and so much to be grateful for in there too and I figure that’s the most important part. All the laughing and good times with friends and family are what sees us through the bad.

I’m still proud of what I have achieved this year and even though there’s still uncertainty in the future. I know that there are many things to look forward to and add to. Everything may not turn out as planned, not even close sometimes but the last few years have taught me that if you’re always trying to put your best foot forward and being as kind as you can to yourself and others then you will get there in the end.

Happy New Year and here’s to a happy and healthy 2022. That’s all that really matters in the end, everything else is a bonus.

Big love 💜

Ding Ding, round 3

I started my third round of therapy a while back. At the time, I had specific behaviours in mind that I wanted to work on. Trauma and anxiety based ticks that really bug me. My relationship with food being another trigger point that I wanted to focus on. Then, the usual peaks and troughs of life happened and the therapy organically becomes what it needs to be for that moment in time – the funny thing is, the ticks and quirks seem to be taking care of themselves within that.

I’m writing today because I need to get it all out. Writing is my release and the events of the last few months need clearing to make space. I’m really sad this week but let’s begin with the good stuff, eh?

I posted this transformation photo a few weeks ago and I’m incredibly proud of myself and what I’ve achieved in a year. Bugger the humble brag, I’m bragging and I don’t give a flying fuck! It’s not really about the physical transformation; although don’t get me wrong, feeling better when you look in the mirror does help overall. It’s about everything that’s happened and what I’ve achieved in the past 12 months. I began getting up every morning and doing a wee bit of dancing to music I feel like listening to that day. It wasn’t very consistent to begin with and with my health conditions, I initially lasted about 10 minutes before I was gubbed. Now I’m giving it laldy for up to 40 minutes at a time and let me tell you, what a way to start the day. I guarantee you’re smiling by the end of it. Some days it’s old school to get all nostalgic for the 90’s, sometimes it’s disco and sometimes it’s still banging techno so I can pretend I’m young again.

Left hand photo by @elainelivphoto

My last post was about how I was learning to love myself again and I suppose this post is explaining how I got there. A few folk commented on my transformation post so thought I’d let you lucky lot into my process.

I’ve always craved a routine, it’s always eluded me. Therefore, I craved it more. It made me more miserable that I wasn’t able to achieve a seemingly normal routine life. The thing is; looking back, apart from working in an industry where that’s just about nigh on impossible. My mental health would never have allowed a routine even if I’d been able to try. My therapist and I had discussed this need and want many times but it was still elusive to me by the end of my last round of therapy.

Lo and behold, the winter of 2019 brought with it the dreaded pandemic that we are still in the clutches of and although this has been difficult in so many ways. It was also a bit of a blessing for me. It was during the first lockdown that I was finally able to start getting my shit together. I can’t verbalise enough the difference beginning simple healthy daily habits had and still has on me and my overall health. I knew that the key was to start with one thing and get that going before adding anything more. I know me and I know that if I had tried to do it all at once then I’d have become frustrated and fucked it all.

Dancing was the beginning, then I added going to bed and getting up at the same time every day. It would have been so easy in isolation to turn night into day and vice versa but all that would have achieved for me would have been a good bout of depression and I knew that would be the case so that was my next step. I go to bed at 10pm every night unless I have something on and I originally began getting up between 7-7:30am. That’s more like 6am these days but I enjoy being up at that time now as I naturally have more energy in the morning (I annoy the living hell out of most of my pals with my cheery morning repertoire…….).

Food and walking the dogs were the next ones. It’s shite cooking for one person so I had gotten into a horrible wee habit of eating takeaway and rubbish all too often and It wasn’t making feel very good. Diet is important with fibromyalgia and the more processed crap you consume, the more you feel crap physically. I joined a facebook group called Team Rh and have lost around 2 stone since the beginning of the year. I’m not going to lie, this has been the most difficult for me to keep consistent with and I have struggled with comfort or binge eating. As mentioned, its been a busy and stressful few months and I hope I’m getting on top of that now with therapy and trying to understand why I want to binge. It’s about more than just losing weight, I crave a healthy relationship with food. My own body hang ups mean that losing weight makes me feel better about myself. I’d love to not give a fuck but I do so I will try to get to a weight I’m comfortable with for me. This time though, I’m doing it sensibly. A consistent caloric deficit due to all of the above is more than achievable. The reality is, I’m eating more than I ever have. I’m just eating more of the right things and seeing the results I want. I’m in no way endorsing diet culture or fat shaming, this is just a healthy choice for myself and my life.

Then, there’s the dogs. My wee pack have kept me going through many dark days and having them gives me a comfort as well as company living alone. Their daft antics keep a smile on my face daily, but they also keep me accountable. They have needs and even if I’m having a shit day; they still need walked, watered and fed. Walking them consistently is the last thing on my list and something I really enjoy. Getting outside and walking them not only helps with my physical quest, being outside is really grounding and good for the old mental health. Ensuring I get at least 10,000 steps in each day has been a huge struggle at times but something I’m determined about. So it’s me dragging the divas out in all weathers to get my my steps in.

Sorry folks, this is turning into a saga but hey ho. I promise I won’t ramble on much longer. I’m going to leave the sad stuff for now, I’m not quite ready to share it with the world at large but what I will quickly say is that as always my friends and family are the very best. Your never ending support means more than you will all ever know and I’m eternally grateful that you are all in my life. There’s much more laughter and hilarity than ever before, making the tough times bearable. Thank you.

I’ll finish with the the thing that I’m most proud of and grateful for. It’s easy to underestimate the power of having a purpose in life, something that makes you tick and work for. I decided to try and go back to studying and was accepted on to a course which encompasses my love to write as well as various other useful subjects for the future. Living with fibromyalgia, I knew this was going to be a challenge. Doing it all via zoom, doubly so.

But, through much sweat and tears and feeling like a stupid old woman a lot of the time. I bloody managed it and am continuing in September.

Fibromyalgia robs you of memory; the old fibro fog (still hate these sayings) means that if I’m over tired, I forget my name never mind anything else. I only have so many productive brain hours in the day before it becomes counterproductive but despite all of that and some other curveballs along the way, I got an A for my graded unit this year. I wrote a children’s picture book to support kids whose parents have chronic, lifelong and invisible illnesses. I’m immensely proud of this achievement and this is another not so humble brag!

It’s easy to fall into the pits of despair when something devastating and unbearably sad happens and it’s more than Ok to sit with that sadness. In fact, you absolutely must sit with those feelings. it’s the only way to process and heal.

This post has been a brain dump for me to remind myself that although I’m sad and upset and my mental health is taking a bit of a battering this week. At the end of it, all of the above is a huge list of things to be grateful for and proud of. That’s progress for me, my immediate reaction wasn’t to go get absolutely wrecked or to hide under the covers unwashed for days. It was to take what I’m feeling and sit with it.

I’ve used the coping mechanism of keeping busy but that’s a much healthier scenario than drinking myself into oblivion or any other such nonsense. I hope that some of this resonates and even helps someone out there have a wee bit of hope. Even when you don’t think you can, with a wee bit of determination anything is possible. Keep going, it’s absolutely worth it.

Big Love

Eye of the Tiger

At New Year I told you all that I was going to try and just get on with things quietly, with my head down. How the fuck did it get to November?

Today I was discharged from this round of therapy. What a weird wee feeling; am I fixed? Am I really not mental any more? Is my diagnosis of complex PTSD (https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/post-traumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/complex-ptsd/) still real/ relevant?

When I got in the car after my final session, the first thing that came on the car radio was The Rocky theme; Eye of the Tiger. I laughed out loud but…….

As always its been a real roller coaster of a year. Thankfully this 6 month block of therapy has been all about stabilising myself. And man, I needed it.

So, a wee update on the bad soap opera that’s the Life and times of Campbell. I’ve debated with myself on how open to be and I’ll write what I can. I’m guilty of oversharing but I’m aware of that and why now!

I finally understand that healing is never going to be a linear thing. It’s bewildering, hard work, lonely and intense.

Its also hugely inspiring, motivating and liberating at the same time. The very nature of it has some days, where I feel like I am Wonder Woman; yet the next day I struggle to motivate myself to shower.

This is OK, I know this now but it’s taken a long time to realise and even longer to accept. I still completely overdo it when I feel up to it and pay for it later. I know I’m not the only person who has chronic issues that has this cycle. But I absolutely have to have the busy times or I know I’d struggle even more when I’m gubbed and stuck in the house.

I’ve learned that the traumas of the past shouldn’t define me, yet I know that it’s more than OK to feel what I feel about them. One of my coping mechanisms has always been to try and ‘just get on with it’ and I have but at the expense of my mental and finally physical health.

The drink it, smoke it, snort it, fuck it, work it or ignore it method doesn’t work in the long run. You have lots of really unhealthy coping mechanisms and lots of stories but you’re still fucked in the head at the end of it. Every response, reaction and fear hightailing it directly from the past.

You have to face the wee fuckers that traumatised you, feel it all and acknowledge them. Then, (and I say this full of hope) you can heal and move on.

Or at least that’s the plan….

There’s always some curveball or other hanging about trying to trip you up. At times it really does feel like a losing battle; you still feel like a waste of space, that you have no purpose in the world because you have a condition that limits you in lots of ways, you still feel self hate; anxiety, crippling self consciousness.

I never felt good enough, pretty enough, slim enough, clever enough: the list goes on

And then

The therapy starts to kick in, and it’s this that has given me the tools to not just exist. Even on the days my physical health isn’t the best.

I’m more than enough and I am now able to not just not beat myself up every single day about absolutely everything. But actually have days when I think I’m quite a bit of alright!

For me, it’s all about routine. Using that unhealthy control freak for something useful, to try and be organised. To set up healthy daily habits and stick to them. I really had to go back to basics, but it’s really helped. But in all this, the key is to be kind to yourself. Even if you fall off the wagon for a day; it’s OK, you can get right back on it. Without your inner commentary getting irate!

I’m not perfect, not a single person on this planet is. I’ve fucked up; sometimes to the expense of people and things precious to me. But you know what, I get up and try every single day. Even on the days when I want to hide from the world. I’m not the only person who has things they are embarrassed or ashamed of. But at the end of the day, I can be accountable without whatever it is comsuming me. I don’t know anyone who hasn’t been a fanny at some point……

Being able to shake my head and laugh at myself is a good feeling to have. I’m fundamentally not going to change, I’m still absolutely ridiculous at times but that’s me. How I think about it all couldn’t be more different than before (most of the time).

I know the difference between the fibromyalgia kicking my arse and my head trying to.

It’s then that my wee routine is most important to me. Instead of worrying myself sick about what anyone else might think, I can now take stock and get on with my day.

Who gives a flying fuck what other people think, until anyone is in your shoes and your life with your memories. Then they can take any judgement elsewhere. As clichéd and cheesy as it sounds. If everyone were just a bit kinder and less judgemental then we would all be a wee bit happier I think.

All the lessons that we are taught. That we have to have x, y and z and have to be killing ourselves in order to make a living. How do we teach an entire planet that this is bullshit.

Before you all roll your eyes at my hippy dippy chat, think about it.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved my job but the expectation is that you will automatically give your pound of flesh. Why?

So that 20 years down the line you can burn out and not enjoy the rest of it?

I’m not naive to think that money isn’t helpful to live but I definitely see where I made mistakes in my beliefs so far.

I’m rambling on now but I suppose the moral of this year is drink enough water, meditate daily, move your body when you can, be kind, be accountable, be grateful and appreciate the wee things.

And then you have a chance of genuinely being happy.

Oh the wise words of a numpty hyped up on The Rocky Theme! 😂

Well….. what’s next?

Here it is, Hogmanay. The end of 2018 and the beginning of a new one. 2019, I made it.

There were times this year I was teetering so close to the edge, I thought I might not. How did I? No fucking idea! Keep on keeping on I guess.

But here I am and as I’ve written before, what a year.

In true Campbell style, I came home from India and straight into the infectious diseases unit. This was after a loonball thought we were all going to die and made my flight sit on the tarmac for over two hours. So it was quite the thirty hour journey home…..

I’m looking forward this year, there’s lots of good on the horizon and I’m determined to grab it all by the balls and give it my best shot. Let’s face it, it can’t be any worse than the last few.

Things are changing and that’s exciting. Really exciting. I’m not going to make any silly resolutions, I’m going to quietly keep doing my thing. Concentrate on my happiness and health and hope to fuck everything else falls in to place.

Onwards and upwards guys, onwards and upwards…..

Thankyou to my amazing family, the friends who have gone out of their way to help and support me in very dark days. And to those who judged, fell away or whatever. That’s sad but just life.

Right 2019, let’s have it!

Happy New Year to you all, see you on the other side ♥️

U OK HUN?

You’ve heard of ‘a wire brush and dettol?’ I think that would have been the gentle option!

Here I was all chirpy on Friday, despite the loo runs. Went for dinner in the Keralan restaurant and was excited because I was allowed daal and a black chickpea curry. On the way to have a treat (a real food treat) my legs started to get very painful and the energy literally drained from my body. I could barely hold myself up. By the time I got home, I felt like I was getting a proper flu. I was shaking, my temperature was high and I felt horrible.

Day 5

By the time the next morning rolled round, I’d not slept; I was burning up and the pain in my body had me in tears. Luckily Dr. Prem also lives next door to us so he was summoned first thing. After a check up, he went off to buy Ayurvedic medicine from town. My friend went to work and I was left thinking that maybe I might die at some point. Factor in to the equation that I’d been pooing and spewing every 15 mins or so since the night before and it was pretty much the Bollywood version of ‘The Exorcist!’

The last time the pain in my body was so severe, I ended up in hospital for a week having the proper big gun painkillers pumped in to me. As you can imagine, I was starting to panic slightly….

At some point, I thought my dog Zoe was there and then I broke my heart for half an hour when I realised she wasn’t (I’m such a dick) By the time Dr. Prem got back from town, I was in a terrible state. I took lots of Ayurvedic medicine, some of it looked like pebbles and god knows what else; but I’d have probably have eaten my own shit at that point if he had promised it would help. It’s all gotten a bit lost in the blur but some was to break my fever and the rest to help with the pain. I broke my heart again when he announced that these weren’t fast acting like Western drugs and would take their time to kick in.

The day went by in a blur of pain that was almost unbearable, sick, shit, snotters and tears. It’s safe to say I was at my very best last Saturday!

The Doc arrived every two hours to check me over, administer medication and then he heated a pan of oil and used crushed leaves wrapped in muslin. He dipped the muslin in the oil and gently massaged my back and legs. It was so comforting and actually gave me a bit of relief. So, yeah. That was Saturday…

I felt slightly better by Sunday morning but could feel a headache beginning, one of those ones that’s going to turn into a migraine if you don’t catch it. I didn’t make yoga but did manage to the hotel for my 10am treatment. I was delighted to find out it was the hot oil. After that, I wilted and had to go home to bed. A full on migraine descended and once again the Doc was summoned. I had plants rubbed into my head and eye and then had to steam over boiling plants. It helped slightly but not enough so the Doc made up a liquid and told me to drink it at 9:30pm. It did the trick and I was able to get some sleep.

This was a pretty horrific few days and I was close to the edge a few times, but, it passed and I got through the other side. I’m not sure who I was kidding when I thought detoxing 42 years of crap would be a walk in the park?

Anyway, I got back to yoga on Tuesday. Very gently but we’re getting into the swing of it again. My treatments all week have just been the hot oil; as suspected, they were only gentle until I was better. After that, it’s a vigorous rub down. Yes, I’ve got wee scorch marks on bits of my body!

I have a rest day day today, so had a wee lie in and now I’m not sure what to do with myself….

I mean, there’s no fags, booze or tasty food allowed so what does a girl do?

I’ll be by the pool in the meantime x