#notpregnantjustfat

So today I am still fat and still not pregnant for anyone who was wondering. Although my idea of myself as 'fat' has changed somewhat over the years. Today I have a BMI of 28.4 and am teetering on the edge of officially obese according to the NHS. To get back within my 'safe' weight bracket I have to lose 1.5 stone, to sit in the middle of said bracket I need to lose 3 stone. Despite this health warning, I am more comfortable in my own skin now than then. In years gone by I was fit and healthy and never understood how people let themselves get so out of shape, to be honest I still don't, it has just kind of 'happened' (I blame hitting the dreaded 3-0 and the resulting decline in my metabolism). Despite my previous good fortune with my weight, I never saw it that way at the time and always believed I was fat, not obese or anything, but the word 'fat' has always clung to the back of my mind. Now I just wish I were as fat as the first time I thought I...

OK, so I really should've started this a long time ago, but 'I haven't had time, work, work, work etc' and all the other bullshit excuses we perpetuate to put off things that scare us. This is a mixture of a typical fat girl diary and also a catalogue of fertility trials and tribulations, so buckle up, cos you're in for a rough ride! Sorry to anyone who was looking for a weight loss journal, I'm over 30 now so I don't lose weight. *Looking Back Through Rose Coloured Glasses* Back in my twenties, I lived the life, drank every weekend (often more often 😜), casually "dated" (I write "dated" as actual dating for Irish people is a relatively new phenomenon, since the dawn of online dating apps; prior to that, relationships used to start with a few drunken "shifts/snogs/getting off with/go wi etc" and after some time could blossom into something longer lasting), whilst generally clawing my way through my career and life. Other ...