As part of my ’12 months of self control’ project I decided that my challenge for March would be to do with productiveness. I was going to try and wake up at 6:30am on week days to try and do things before work. There was so much I was going to do, pedicures, research, dog walks, exercise, I’d planned so, so, so much yoga. It was going to be great I was going to be so proactive without the mundane feeling of get up, go to work, come home, eat, sleep, get up, repeat. For all the spatial learners out there this was what my mornings would look like;


Cut to the chase, I failed so hard that it hurts. I considered lying about it in my blog because it was that bad.

Day one: Managed to wake myself up at 6:45 by means of force. I grabbed my laptop and watched Gossip Girl  on Netflix for two hours straight. ‘It’s a start’ I told myself. ‘Tomorrow I’ll do better’.

Day two: Work up half hour before work started.

Day three: Got up at 6:30 because I had college and I had to.

Day four- 31: NOPE.

I learnt that I am incapable of waking up unless I absolutely have to/ I’m really excited because I’m going to the airport and  I know I’m getting a Sausage & Egg McMuffin and a holiday out of it. Apart from that I could quite happily spend 80% of my life sleeping, 10% eating and another 10% drinking Gin. I’m like a fucking Snorlax – the worst Pokémon. Snorlex. Ha.


As part of my ’12 months of self control’ project, I decided to give up chocolate for a month. Naturally I picked February to attempt this, what with it being the shortest month, I know, bloody genius. The main reason for doing this was because I am a chocoholic, and I do not use the term lightly. Big Goose (my Mother) bought it to my attention that we quite easily see away 800-1000 calories of chocolate on an average day. This was quite alarming. We have a problem.

I’ve always had a rocky relationship with chocolate based foods. Much like a smoker, I will go to the petrol station, have a word with myself beforehand about not buying any chocolate, “Get the Petrol then GTFO, Lexy you can do this”. Flash forward five minutes and I’m sitting in my car, full to the brim with  shame after scoffing two boost bars in a blind episode. See, I told you I had a problem.

I’ve always assumed that chocolate didn’t make me put on weight, growing up I pretty much refused to eat anything that wasn’t chocolate (or burnt Birds Eye Chicken Char-grills and Quavers for some reason). But anyway, I had the appearance of a girl with some sort of serious eating disorder and considering I used to sit in bed and shovel away multi packs of KitKats and Gold bars into my gob after I thought everyone was asleep, my figure was a misrepresentation of the amount of calories I packed away. So That’s how I figured, like an idiot, that chocolate didn’t do anything to my weight, right? Wrong. In the first 10 days I lost a staggering 6lb. I’m not a big girl, I don’t really have that kind of weight to spare. So that was a shock.

The weight soon got replaced, I had a full withdrawal from chocolate, headaches, foot tapping, anger, irritability and the inability to think about anything but the thought of sweet, beautiful chocolate melting in my mouth.  The only way to stop thinking about it was by eating pretty much everything and anything else. The carbo-load of the century was in full swing.

The top three worst moments were as follows;

1. Every single damn time I drove past this poster:

acde5e1446c96bd846c3d75913039ba0 it was like it was laughing at me, tempting me to pull in to the nearest BP garage and buy all the Easter goods. That shit shouldn’t have even be in the shop yet? It was FEBRUARY!

2. The time I bought a Mocha by accident one morning at college. I took one sip, then poured it down the sink along with little pieces of my heart.

3. The time the ‘fat bird’ (her words not mine, I’m not being mean, she’s pregnant & she asked me to write that) from work ate Rolos in front of me and I tried not to weep.

All in all I’ve learnt that without chocolate I’m a miserable cow. I need it to get me through long days at work, and evenings spent in bed with my other half (Netflix). The cravings never went away, but I didn’t relent, which is the most amount of  will power I’ve ever mustered and for that I am truly proud. Go me! However due to my dramatic initial weight loss I now see that chocolate does indeed contribute to my weight, so maybe I’ll try and cut down? Having said that, on my first day of freedom I went out and purchased this;


I’ll allow you to speculate as to how the ‘cutting down’ goes.

Dry Manuary

In my previous post I put forward my plan to give something up each month consecutively for a year.  This is my first follow up entry for January, a time where many people give up alcohol, in the name of ‘dry January’, I however went for a slightly different drought known as ‘dry MANuary’. That’s right, I decided to start the first of 12 months of ‘going without’ by actually going without. The rules were as follows, No dates and no ‘adult sleepovers’ or any of the activities that might happen during said sleepovers, but the biggest rule was that I couldn’t let on to any men what I was doing. I didn’t want to turn into the object of someone’s game of chase, nor the main feature of a bet amongst mates in the pub, ergh, not cool.

I started off by deleting both of the dating apps I frequent ‘Happn’ and ‘Tinder’. For about a week, I’m ashamed to say it but I felt a bit lost. All the times sat waiting at the train station, waiting to meet friends, waiting for the kettle to boil, my poor thumbs didn’t know what to do with themselves.   I quickly nipped this habit in the bud by going way, way back to the old school by compulsively playing minesweeper and solitaire on my phone, Windows ’97 style. It’s really sad that I had to go to such a measure, but I did and it worked. So judge away.

January was a blast, I did a lot of drinking, mostly with my best female friends whilst listening to a hell of a lot of ‘IDFWU’ (for my white married friends, this is an abbreviation of a song called ‘I don’t fuck with you’, give it a listen, it’s a game changer and will make you feel full of sass.) and  taking on that general vibe as my attitude to life. I was on fire, I was having the best time and the only men I was relying on were the bartenders responsible for my supply of gin and my uber drivers. As a result, I’ve found that not all men are sex-crazed monsters, some are actually gentlemen (rare) and some are actually interesting to talk to (extremely rare).

On a serious note, I do think I learnt a lot from my dry ‘Manuary’ experience. Firstly I learnt to stop giving my phone number out to anyone who asks. I usually use this as a tactic to encourage men to leave me alone, thinking they are safe in the knowledge I will contact them the next day (never), therefore easing off and not creeping too hard in the bar I’m trying to enjoy myself in. However, I didn’t feel it was fair to give out my number during my dry streak, and a few short ‘no you cannot have my number because I don’t want to give it to you’s later everything was A-OK, it wasn’t that hard. Which kind of brings me to my next point.

Learning to say ‘No.’   That statement sounds a lot more serious and dramatic/Grange Hill esque then intended. What I’m trying to explain is my complete inability to say ‘thanks, but no thanks’ to men when they ask me to go for a drink/dinner/dry ski slope tobogganing/to an owl sanctuary (all amazing date ideas BTW).

Quite often, just because they haven’t done anything douchey I will agree to a date, even if I’m not even remotely attracted/interested in them. It’s as if I feel they have to do something wrong for me to have an excuse not to go on a date with them. What’s wrong with the good old fashioned let down? Why do I and thousands of other women let men we’re not half bothered about pester us into dates and giving them our phone numbers, just because we don’t want to feel like we’re being a bitch or have a ‘valid’ excuse not to? Ultimately we’ll par them off anyway so isn’t it just better to nip it in the bud? I would sure as hell respect that treatment from a chap. Plus, I’ve landed myself in some shit storms with men I’ve strung along in the past. For example I shall quote the final of a whole series of voicemails I received from one particular pest I met on the train;

‘Why would you give me your number then not contact me back? I just think it’s rude… well you must be init ‘.

The rest of the voicemails really were hilarious and made for great listening, and if I hadn’t received them from some jumped up rude boy then I would have felt bad and taken what he had to say seriously. And that’s the point, It is rude to string men along or show false interest and I shouldn’t do it. (Also, guys, don’t make us feel like we have to when we’re clearly giving you ‘fuck off’ vibes). So now I don’t and it’s a change I’m happy to uphold. No string along zone,  girl power etc etc.

I also haven’t gone back on any dating apps or sites, I really don’t think I can stomach any more unwarranted ‘dick pics’ being sent to me from shady men, I’ve had enough of those revolting shockers to last me a lifetime. I also have found a new happiness in myself and think I’m worth slightly more than having someone judge me on five photos and a sentence long bio before deciding to inevitably ‘swipe left’.

I really recommend giving up on men for just a short time to any single ladies who read this. There’s much more (gin) out there to enjoy and I grantee you’ll come out on top.


12 Months of Self Control


I’n not religious, I have no obligation to fast during Ramadan, nor do feel the need to give up something for Lent. But for some reason around Christmas time whilst reflecting upon the previous year as we all do, I started thinking about the new year and what I wanted to do with 2015. At first I envisioned going on 10 holidays, winning the lottery and buying myself and my Bestest Baddest Betch (BBB) an insane mansion, not dissimilar to Barbie’s Dream House. Having snapped out of my day dream I decided to set some realistic goals. Something slightly more memorable and worthwhile than a sloppy New Years Resolution that will inevitably get forgotten about mid-March if I was lucky.

Here’s what I came up with;

For each month of 2015 I am going to attempt to either give something up/ attempt a personal challenge. As soon as the month is over, *poof* slate wiped clean, move onto next challenge and evaluate/blog my findings. Why? I have no idea, I guess I’m bored and fancy carrying out a mini social experiment of myself. Me, myself and my very own lab rat (Because who doesn’t love a desperate attempt to slot in a loose Beyoncé reference?). Either way, the fact that I didn’t get round to typing this up until 10th Febuary is not the point, perhaps one of my monthly challenges will be to not be so bloody tardy.

A few of my habits and vices you should get to know; Chocolate, dating, spending money I don’t have, smoking, bread, anything peanut based and heroin. They’re mainly food based because inside I have the heart of Augustus Gloop, except the heroin one, the heroin one isn’t real, but I really like Trainspotting?

People who know me best, I will be calling on you to make some non food based suggestions. Just to clarify as a pre-warning, before everyone jumps on me and tries to suggests it, I absolutely will not give up Gin for any of the twelve months. It goes against my core beliefs and I would rather cut off my right arm. Gin is the glue that holds my whole persona together. None of this ‘dry January’ nonsense for me, thanks.

So who knows? Maybe I will learn something, gain some much needed will power or self control? Maybe it will just be a really boring waste of my time? Maybe I’m just being unrealistic and setting myself up for a fail? With the latter being the more likely option. I’ll give it a shot and let you know. Seeing as it’s already February, I’ll give you a spoiler alert for January’s challenge. I attempted to give up men.