Shopping & Screaming

I met up with Ann Margaret my niece who is mother to the now famous baby Abi - (Abi features in my videos and my Scotsman newspaper column).
Ann Margaret came into town with me to help choose a frock for my forthcoming red carpet BAFTA awards in London on Sunday. As you may know John Smeaton the now famous Glasgow airport hero is my lovely guest at the awards.

John is going in his kilt and full national dress, I had nothing to wear.

Ann Margaret decided I should wear the lovely black dress that I already own and purchase a new lacy wrap to go over the top and some new jewellery to dress it up a bit. I agreed, as I fucking hate dress shopping, especially when you are my size!

My big boobs inhibit any nice frock from looking good.

I found the perfect lacy bolero wrap and am now convinced I will look OK-ish on the big day. Why the hell I don’t lose weight months in advance for this event I will never know. Everything looked odd on me in the shops.

Though I did try on a new fancy jacket from some gay designer, but you had to wrap around you and then tie bits of it up in black satin and it was like wearing origami- I had no idea who to tie this thing onto my body and my left boob hung out like I was a breast feeding militant lesbian- only a gay man would assume women like walking around with a tit hanging out of a jacket.

I came out of the dressing room in the wrap around expensive piece of shit and Ann Margaret howled with laughter and the young man assistant was horrified. It was worth it just to see the look on his face. I paraded around as if I was unaware one big boob was flapping about- thank god I was wearing a bra!

We finally exhausted ourselves looking at fancy sequined dresses and headed off to a bar that had outside seating so we could grab a fag and a coffee.

Husband is still in productive mode and has successfully emptied every single cupboard, wardrobe and clutter filled dresser and gave millions of stuff to the charity shops in our street. I mistakenly gave away Ashley’s old teddy bears and she managed to salvage them from the charity shop bag. Why she needs old bears I will never know…but you would think I had thrown out a couple of foetus’s the way she was carrying on.

So I am finally exhausted and getting ready to fly to London yet again this week…I swear to God I think I will meet my own arse coming round a corner!
And every time I come home there is an uneasy sense of every trace of me being slowly wiped out of my home. Husband has thrown so much stuff away I get the feeling I will only own what I carry in that suitcase and then slowly even I will be eradicated from the history of my own life.

He has arranged my wardrobe into tops-skirts-dress’s- trousers- and they are all colour co-ordinated now! His Asperger’s syndrome is in full swing! It’s pretty cool in a sense. He sat me down and made me organise my diary.

I even managed to organise my smear test at the doctors for Valentine’s Day- so, no matter what happens my cervix will be getting some action come hell or high water!