Singing Sweet Home East Anglia, All Summer Long!

Due to the discomfort of yesterday's news stories, I felt that I could not really contribute anything to the world by writing. In comparison, my views and experiences seemed void.
I do not like to dwell on sadness, and particularly in this sense, no words can do justice to our neighbours in Norway. Hence, I shall say no more on the matter.
I am home. I mean HOME, home. No longer in the town where I went to University or shacked up with my boyfriend. I am actually home. And it's bliss.
I have spent my Sunday morning licking the whisk and bowl clean that my mom just used to bake cupcakes with.
Yum.
I am also watching America's Next Top Model, which should probably deter me from gorging on such luxuries. But I am naturally rebellious. Up yours.
I have been up since 7am. I heard my mom get up and couldn't help but totter down stairs in my CyberJammies to brew a bucket full of tea and reminisce about lovely things.
NB. Do not invest in CyberJammies again.
I am not slandering the brand. But, in my opinion (which is protected by the Human Rights Act of 1998) CyberJammies are shit.
I thought to myself, "Let's invest in a good pair of pyjamas". What a fool. They don't fit properly.
Now I'm not obese or stick thin. I consider myself to be quite normal. Boobs, hips, muffin top - the works!
They are in my size. I did not kid myself into thinking that I could cram myself into a smaller size of pajamas. Why would I do that? Pointless.
But they do not fit properly.
They fit around my hips. Which is the largest area of my body (aren't I lucky - hello childbirth!)
Thus you would conclude that they would fit, or be slightly looser at least, around the other areas of my body... no such luck.
They are snug, aka - too tight, around my thighs (which are relatively toned due to all the cycling in the rain) and strangely, the top is too tight around my bust but ridiculously baggy around my shoulders - what's going on?
Moreover, I have a constant camel toe and wedgie.
It is almost like someone has written down the most ill-fitting measurements for my figure, manufactured them, charged me the earth for the privilege and then forced me to wear them to bed.
Anyway, what was I saying?
Oh yes. Reminiscing. My favorite pass-time.
I love nostalgia. It gets you through some stinky times in your life. As do photographs.
Never underestimate the power of a photograph. Think of advertising that's caught your attention. Usually a photograph. Cracking.
My mom and I were giggling at a mid-pubescent photograph of myself this morning.
I have puppy fat which makes me look like a half girl/boy hybrid. And to be honest, I've not done myself any favours by opting for Posh Spice's short crop that was fashionable at the time.
I look so awkward. I could be Eve or Steve. Even a paedophile would have said no.
My mother shrewdly compared me to a swan. Which is nice really. Insinuating that I am now relatively attractive.
However, I can't help but recognize that she's technically not denying the fact that I used to look like a signet.
Mousy-grey hair, clumped into pre-GHD tufts.
And I've had a few nose-breaks so you could compare my honker to a beak.
Isn't being a woman hard?
If you're a man and reading this (then why? for starters!) then you may not understand.
I believe it was Dylan Moran who observed that when men are born, they put their finger up their nose and their other hand down their trousers and just get taller.
Women change. All the bloody time.
My skin is constantly changing. Even now.
I thought the acne had gone from my teens until I woke up the other morning with a big, throbbing white head on my chin. Which my boyfriend accidentally burst in a moment of passion. It was almost like a premature ejaculation. I was rather embarrassed. But he was very understanding. Apparently it happens to everyone.
If anyone is reading this (then why? for starters!) I'd be interested to know what other uncontrollable changes people have had with their bodies. Men in particular.
All I ever get out of my boyfriend is, "Am I getting a gut?"
Generally weight gain is a controllable change. Generally. No matter how much we kid ourselves!
Do men have little niggles? Do penises change size or shape as much as breasts?
I've never asked this question, at risk of sounding like a Peter Pervis.
Plus, I believe most men would take this as a come on from a very sexually liberated woman.
Which I am. But I wouldn't ask that.
Actually I just did. I've surprised myself...
Gosh, don't I ramble?
Watch this space...