Implant not Impregnate!

Heyy, 

Sitting in the surgery doctors waiting room to say I was nervous was an understatement. I was anxiously tapping my foot on the floor as I answered questions about my sexual health. Have I ever been paid for sex? Have I ever been forced into sex? Have I ever had abusive sex? Some of the detailed questions were strange, but I suppose they have to ask them as nurses in order to safeguard, both as an arse-covering exercise and to flag up any would-be problems or concerns. And so here I was for my fourth implant exchange. 

Looking on the NHS website, Nexplanon, otherwise known as the contraceptive implant is a small flexible plastic rod that looks a little like a match stick. It is placed under the skin in your upper arm by a doctor or nurse and releases the hormone progestogen into your bloodstream to prevent pregnancy. Lasting for 3 years, it is more than 99% effective and can be useful for women who can't use contraception that contains oestrogen.

The science-y part states that the implant steadily releases the hormone progestogen into your bloodstream, which prevents the release of an egg each month AKA your period.  It also thickens the cervical mucus, which makes it more difficult for sperm to move through the cervix, and thins the lining of the womb so a fertilised egg is less likely to implant itself and cause that dreaded pregnancy! 

The NHS website also states that you can have the implant put in at any time during your menstrual cycle, as long as you're not pregnant. If the implant is fitted during the first 5 days of your menstrual cycle, you will be immediately protected against becoming pregnant, however, if it's fitted on any other day of your menstrual cycle, you'll need to use additional contraception (such as condoms) for 7 days, although if you ask the sexual health nurse or doctor they will usually provide you with as many as you need in a nice little discreet packet, almost like a goody bag or sticker like from the Dentist. 

Some of the reasons to choose the implant over other forms of contraception are that once the implant is in place, you don't have to think about it again for 3 years and is very useful for women who find it difficult to remember to take a pill at the same time every day like me. Obviously, the implant can be taken out if you have side effects which could include periods may become irregular, lighter, heavier or longer but once removed your natural fertility will return very quickly. As soon as that implant has been removed, you'll no longer be protected against pregnancy. You can also use this method until you reach the menopause when a woman's monthly periods stop naturally.

Another common side effect is what I have most of the time which is called amenorrhoea when your periods stop altogether. It's not harmful, but you may want to consider this before deciding to have an implant if unlike me you prefer Aunt Urma staying more regularly. I think this, along with the fact I am incredibly forgetful and blase about the small stuff in life, means this is perfect and I only really need to think about it when I am having it exchanged and replaced. 

I mean obviously, it goes without saying that some medicines can make the implant less effective and that it won't work or protect against sexually transmitted infections (STIs), so you may need to use condoms as well if you are not familiar with your bed-fellow. I think I found it especially useful when I was dating (although this feels like many, many moons ago now) as I was not only using condoms but also relying on my implant too as a sort of double barrier, just in case the condom split or came off. 

To have it removed as I have this evening is simple as well and mostly pain-free. Starting with a local anaesthetic to numb the area on the inside of your upper arm, the implant is then inserted under your skin (mine was after the doctor made a tiny cut in my skin and gently pulled the implant out). It only takes a few minutes to put in and feels like having an injection so you won’t be in need of any stitches afterwards. 

As I type to you all tonight I have been through this very quick and simple procedure several times over and, like me, when it's first put in you may feel some bruising, tenderness or swelling around the implant. My arm is killing me right now, mainly because the nurse took it out and nearly forgot to put me a new one back in, by which point the general anaesthetic had nearly worn off so inserting that little stick felt like pumping molten chilli sauce into my arm. But I am now protected, at least in part from Mr Warehouse's super sperm. His whole family seem to be able to procreate at a somewhat incredible level I don't think I have ever encountered before. 

Don't get me wrong, as the day approached and even this afternoon as I thought more and more about it I know that this will be the last time I will have it going in as I will not be finishing the full term until September 2022. If Mr Warehouse had it his way we would have had children back when we met, aged twenty-two and me at twenty-three. I, however, prefer the more planned and thought out route, choosing to get life to a more stable place, with a house and well-formed relationship to steady the unpredictability of a child. And to think that the next time I lay down on that bed, fist punching the air will be when I have made the decision to breed and make more little me's!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Fifty Shades Finished ...

Evening, 

Sitting in the cinema, work colleagues surrounding me I felt emotional as the last few scenes played out on the big screen. This was a massive part of my life. It had been here for so long. I had read the books, Imagined my Christian and I his Ana. I had witnessed the terrible first movie and how, hooked and in need of a giggle I continued onto the Box Office for the second and third instalment. But now it was over. The end of an era and time maybe to say goodbye once and for all. 

Back in 2012, admits a gut-wrenchingly messy break-up with Mr. Workaholic I took complete solace in reading the trilogy of books by E. L James; 'Fifty Shades of Grey', 'Fifty Shades Darker' and 'Fifty Shades Freed'. It seems like so long ago I struggle to remember what it was like reading them, although I know already a part of me is hesitant to return to such a dark place in my past. Those books shaped my being, gave me structure and when everything else failed helped me realise that there was life after heart-break, even if it was sleazy and smutty. 

After being gifted 'Fifty Shades of Grey by Miss Tweedle-Dee I began reading a matter of weeks after Mr. Workaholic left what was to be our family home one day. I was hooked. It was my escape and at every given opportunity I would dive straight back into it. I couldn't put it down. On the Bus. On the Train. In the Weight Watchers Class. At work and At home. Like the rest of the nation, I was enraptured by Christian and his Red Room of Pain! Written as part of an original Twilight fan fiction I soon completely immersed myself in the world of Mr. Christian Grey and Miss Anastasia Steele. When I wasn't found drinking away my sorrows with friends of a weekend back home in Dunstable and Luton, or at sneaking out of work on a break to call Mr. Woof just to get him off, I would be found with my head in those books; escaping in any way I could from my own reality. 

As things got easier with my break-up with Mr. Workaholic, I soon rekindled a somewhat telephonic and long-distance relationship with Mr. Woof, (to which he has now earned his name) and in a round about way, gave me back some power and control I had since lost. In past blog posts I have written about how control and domination has been something of interest for me since I was a teenager, with rough play and borderline BDSM being a sticking point in many of my previous relationships. When E. L. James hit the big time with the trilogy of clit-flicks Fifty Shade of Grey, Fifty Shades Darker and Fifty Shades Freed, I was left wanting more. So when the films were announced to be released in cinemas I like many a red-blooded women was screaming in pleasure and joy at seeing Willies on the size on iMAX screens. Since then however, some idiot decided to turn the whole thing into a shoddily thrown together movie of the first book whereby we learnt that the cast hate each other, the director and the author hate each other and how much tits, bums and fannies get airtime in films that were made for women who like cock. 

Anyway that was Media Student me popping out to say hello, One minute whilst I beat her back into her fluffy-handcuffs. 

I suppose in a way the concept of BDSM had always been in the back of my mind, a taboo idea reserved only for a trusting relationship of which I found myself without. But I always liked the thought of being in control and in charge. I tried it once. Once! 

Cast your minds back everyone to my post entitled "A Midsummer Night's Disaster!" in which I truly thought that this would be a good time to implement my inner dominatrix. Suffice to say that attempting kinky sex with a drunk man whom you do not know the name of and have brought home for the night is not a good idea at all. My excuse was that I was a lost little soul who had just found out the love of her life was not reciprocating the feeling. I think we all know the ending to that story so I shall not relive it again. Looking back now it was a step too far and one which was taken in hast with the prospect of getting over my first and possibly only true love, at least that is what I thought at the time, unbeknownst to me that I would meet the quirky Mr. Cheese, The flash-in-the-pan that was Mr. Coffee and oh-so lovable Mr. Warehouse not to mention some of the other odd-balls I dated. 

Needless to say that I was happy with the (NSA) No Strings Attached heated phone-calls I received in the dead of the night from Mr. Woof. Some of them were when he was stoned. Some of them were when he was drunk. Some of them were even when he was at work himself. When I talk about it like that it seems as though he was using me to the highest of advantages; abusing the trust and vulnerability of an old friend. But I was as much to blame in that as Mr. Woof was. I wanted and needed attention. I craved it. I was lacking from all areas of life and was bruised by recent events, so I did what any normal girl would in that scenario and go back to what was familiar and comforting to me and that was Mr. Woof. Yes we had an odd relationship from the moments we would sneak off to a quiet corridor in school or the after school stolen sessions on the meadow fooling around in the sun. I was always his secret and now I didn't mind that so much as I wasn't ready for commitment but still needed that yearning attention and to get back some sort of control on my life. Even to this day I don't think that Mr. Woof really knew the power he had over me and how he made everything seem better in those stormy, cloudy days. I needed a little something I could dip into as and when I wanted. My honey pot of self-discovery and self-obsession. A confidence boost that extended far further than sexual gratification. Ahh yes, it was "A Dogs Life" after all. 

And as I left that cinema seat, another film over and done with, I felt sad for the ending of something that had brought me such fun, laughter and naughtiness over the last six or so years. And all for seeing a crumby movie about bondage. 


'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Pacing Prague And Other Tales!

Ahoj!

Racing around like a blue-arse-fly I was now stuck in a serious traffic jam on the A421. Stand still. Not. Moving. Anywhere. Frustratingly I spent over double the amount of time it would normally take me to get to Miss Tweedle-Dee's house for our Pre-Holiday sleepover. After a spot of telly and a night time snack of coffee and Jaffa Cakes we headed to bed for an early night. Waking the next morning the staples of toast and more coffee ensued and afterward it was time to head to the airport. Thanks to Pappa Tweedle-Dee we arrived in good time and after changing up more money (to think I was worried about not having enough) we headed shopping and for a bite to eat. 

Boarding the plane Miss Tweedle-Dee and I were excited and just over ninety-minutes later, with a rather uneventful flight in general that had passed really quickly we had arrived. Touching down we collected our bags and headed through nothing to declare and awaited our driver. And waited. And waited. Went outside into the cold early evening air for a quick Vape Sesh and then back in. Still no driver and it was now I started to panic. Was this a scam? Have I made a grave mistake in booking a hotel and not looking at the reviews? I had been talking to the receptionist for the last few days as Miss Tweedle-Dee and I had many questions but maybe it was all a set up and now I am in a foreign land where I know virtually no Czech and am struggling to call their offices! Help! Just then, as if by magic a pink-shirted gentleman approached us as if from no where and asked us if it was us he was looking for. We must have looked lost! He took my bag (Miss Tweedle-Dee carried her own) and we headed to the car. Driving through the streets of Prague we swapped small talk and asked advice on where is best to eat and visit in the city, but more-so where not to go. 

Finally arriving at the apartment and figuring out our own way on how we get in after being abruptly told by a moody jobs-worth of a receptionist, we settled into what I can only describe as a very white, clean and well equipped studio apartment. Small for the two of us it certainly ticked all the boxes and provided us with everything we could have wanted or needed in our time here including a super comfy memory-foam double bed, small dining table and chairs, wardrobe, safe and small kitchenette consisting of the microwave, kettle, under-the-counter fridge and sink. There is / was a hob however we did not use it. In the hallway was a coat-rack and areas to put boots and other outdoor wears and opposite was a toilet and separate bathroom complete with a very small shower, washing machine and sink. Cosy to say the least, but in all fairness it was a place we would spend the next few nights in bed, scrolling through social media and sleeping before heading out again. That being said the stairs are and have been an issue. Three flights that curve round and are usually shrouded in darkness have certainly been the bain of our lives. 

For our first night in Prague, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I hadn't made any real plans in terms of dinner and neither of us had actually reviewed or researched any where near our apartment for some dinner and therefore we wandered rather aimlessly towards what looked like the Christmas Market set-up. Around there we found what looked like a rather neglected from the outside restaurant, but to be fair it looked warm and I was getting cold so I persuaded Miss Tweedle -Dee to come inside with me. And oh boy was it the best choice we made, I think probably all holiday. Since we had both eaten lunch pretty late neither Miss Tweedle-Dee or I were that hungry so opted just for a single main course from the French Restaurant menu. I ordered a roasted Guinea Fowl and the Bestie ordered a Pork Belly with Potato Puree. This was all washed down with a couple of beers. Such a stunning meal and honest to god I would definitely recommend it so if you are heading to Prague you need to go to La Gare just round the corner from the main Palladium shopping center (which is deceivingly huge by the way, like some sort of shopping tardis!)

Waking up in the city the next morning I was glad for being here and on holiday once again. Heading out into the fresh chilly air we looked round the Christmas Market Areas round the areas surrounding our hotel and found ourselves moving over to the Old Town Square area. We watched the Astronomical Clock and pottered around some of the churches and architectural landscapes surrounding the infamous area. Wandering then took us over the Charles Bridge, and sauntering across the river Vltava and finding ourselves in a small cafe, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I ordered a traditional goulash and some Camembert, accompanied with some tasty raspberry infused beer! Delish! The following days were spent very similarly, touring round Prague, taking photos, filming filler for my holiday Vlog and visiting the many Christmas Markets around the city. 

A visit to several of the most popular tourist hot-spots were also frequented by Miss Tweedle-Dee and I including the Prague Castle which is the largest Castle in the world sprawling out over eighteen acres. Me and the Bestie also visited the Sex Machine Museum which I will be honest was a slight let down, although the Creepy Bear (picture uploaded to my Facebook page if you really need an example) and other apparatus were certainly interesting but possibly not worth the nearly ten-quid entry fee?! Another maybe more worth while waste of money being a tourist in Prague was with our visit to the Chocolate Museum / factory just off The Old Town Square. Other than this simply wandering round the shops and Christmas Markets and stalls have occupied both Miss Tweedle-Dee and I throughout our stay here. 

Eating out in Prague has certainly been an experience which in my opinion was miles and miles ahead of my experiences in Tenerife with Mr. Warehouse in the Summer. Our first night I have already touched on and whilst I was given loads of advise from tonnes of people I knew who had visited Prague before as well as some helpful vloggers and bloggers who live in Prague and the Czech Republic, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I hit up some really, really good restaurants. Firstly there is the cafe round the corner from our accommodation called Cafe Apetit. Whilst I am almost certain that all that occupied at the time we visited on Sunday Morning / Afternoon were all local, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I struggled through our broken Czech to order a delicious open sandwich, coffee and a large slice of cake which all came to under two-hundred Czech Koruna, equal roughly to under a fiver in British money, something which we were both stunned by given if the same was bought in London it would have easily been double if not triple the price and so much lacking in quality. 

Another place you need to hit up when in Prague are Brasilerio where you can have as much meat as you can handle and an unlimited salad and other specials bar. Very similar to the steak all-you-can-eat buffet Miss Tweedle-Dee and I had with the rest of her family and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in Las Vegas you use your coaster to show green in order to tell the meat-staff and servers when you are ready for the BBQ goodness or switch it over to red when you just want to tap-out for a little bit. Regardless of the hefty price tag (well only hefty in comparison to the other eateries we visited which came in well under the four-hundred Czech Koruna I was expecting to spend each night) I still think that for the price it was certainly worth it and would certainly encourage you to visit if here. 

My only let downs about Prague as a whole I feel (apart from going home tomorrow) is that the majority of the city, its sights, tastes, smells and feels could easily be done in half the time we have spent here. I would suggest if you are planning your trip that two or three days would be sufficient and if the Christmas Market is in town, maybe four but I probably wouldn't plan another city break for as long as Miss Tweedle-Dee and I have come for. Whilst it has been relaxing we have done a lot of the same thing. Long lazy mornings lying in bed till noon an staying up late scrolling through news feeds have kept us occupied though and I honestly cant think of many other people I would want to spend my time exploring a European Christmas Market with that my bestie, Miss Tweedle-Dee. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Crime-Scene in My Pants

Evening one and all, 

So after a long and stressful week I was certainly looking forward to the weekend and a much deserved bottle or two. Settling into the drivers seat outside TESCO as I prepared for the journey home, snacking on some ham since I had been hungry since missing my lunch that day. Suddenly walking past the front of my little Viv I noticed my Dad, and, clocking one another I was certainly glad for what ensued. Several hours later we had touched on many a subject including marriage, travelling and home buying, something until only recently I had sought some professional advice about. I think that everything last week had seemed like a challenge and that I wasn't going anywhere and that getting to where I wanted to be, especially on the property ladder, seemed out and out so un-achievable unless I came into a great deal of money or spent the next decade saving. Seeing Dad was lovely and the heart to heart conversations was what I severely missed in my relationship with him. Pop's probably doesn't even realise it but our meeting was really cathartic and meant a great deal to me, even if it was unplanned. 

Seeing Family over the weekend also cheered me up no end, especially my cousins. Aged eleven and twelve, both boys are starting to learn about the world and how it works, and during the course of Saturday I was taught the difference between all the difference levels of Cannabis on the spectrum of hallucinogenics and how these days, schools tend not to bother with the whole banana and condom trick. Oh no! Kids nower days are given full blown Dildo's (And yes my cousin did shout the word dildo several times in the middle of Costa Coffee) and made to put a condom on. The world has come a long way since 2001 I thought. 

Back in the day the lad's and ladies were separated in order to learn about their bodies, but we were never shown or taught what the other had to endure. Ergo, we had the era of the period jokes and a crude fascination with the opposite sex. I would have loved to be a fly on a wall in that room, hearing all about inappropriate boners and what semen contains. I suppose as a boy is may have been equally interesting listening into tits and fannies for half hour every Thursday afternoon. 

In this time frame all the girls were handed a booklet about our body and how it changes in preparation for periods and the eventuality of childbirth. This was my actual nightmare beginning. I hated,  and still do, talking about periods openly. It is something private and whilst every women aged fifteen to fifty does it I still feel a twinge of cringe when I open up about bleeding 'downstairs'. I don't laugh and period puns and can hardly stand it buying tampons or pads, forcing them through the self-scan at TESCO like some strange lady with a weird body function to hide. Its embarrassing - Both being so ashamed of it and actually having to put up with altering your life for however many days in the month. I am lucky in a way that I never suffered at the hands of cramping or major mood swings like some of my friends in the playground, however I think every girl will admit to remembering those dark days when you didn't know how to manage it. Spills, accidents and leaks were something I loathed but in a way I was grateful because it meant that someday I could have my own children and in  way I have now come to accept that it is something natural and normal. 

I will still try to hide away when someone reminds me of that scene in a Rom-Com somewhere, I think its called 'No Strings Attached' (which is ironically funny when I tell you where this is going). Ashton Kutcher (love of my life) makes a period mix-tape and brings round cupcakes for all his Bae's friends, including one friend who describes her period as "A Crime-Scene in My Pants". On this mix-tape including old favourites such as Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis, Red Red Wine by UB40 and The Tide Is High by Atomic Kitten (or Blondie, if your so inclined). As cringe as that was it does go on and the full track listing can be found online. Cute, cringe and bile-inducing all at the same time is hard, but somehow Ashton nails it ... And me if he is in Bedford any time soon!

Back in the classroom the time soon comes when both the classes were combined, adding to the social awkwardness, both for students and teachers alike. Settling an unruly class is one thing, but trying in-vain to teach them about the birds and the bees was another, and so most teachers at my small town Middle School chose to simple put in a VHS they had recorded from a teachers Satellite channel in the late, late hours (Yes I did just say VHS). 

But I must confess that in the whole history of me being in school, both middle and high, the majority if not all of the things I learnt and picked up weren't from phallic shaped fruits or dodgy home-recorded videos, It was from friends (Miss Tweedle-Dee deserves a shut out here as my main provider of such material and knowledge), late night babe channels and sadly porn. I think that teaching kids younger about what is right and wrong in relationships is and can only be a good thing. Starting them off young, telling them about the Pant Rule and showing them about how good relationships work is crucial in bringing down the number of Rapes, teen and unwanted pregnancies as well as STI's and non-abusive relationships. It can only get better and as on the continent shows that good things come from starting them off early with preventative education and serious chats about well-being. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Adieu France!

Bonjour, 

Ahh and to think that this time last week I was probably enjoying a wonderful meal with Mr. Warehouse in a quiet little restaurant in Lyon, watching the sun slip behind the La Basilique Notre Dame de Fourvière and becoming in great anticipation for our last night of holiday passion. Sipping on French wine probably grown a few miles from where we were staying in the Rhone Valleys I soaked up some of the hottest days I have ever experienced, and I have been to the Nevada Desert. 

Nevertheless the journey home was not as bad as our arrival (whereby I spent nearly four-hours in the airport trying to work out how to use my money card which ultimately lead me to frantically calling the UK offices in London to speak with someone who could verify that I was who I was. Duhh, do they not know who I am?!). Almost immediately after finishing dinner we headed back to the hotel and started to pack to go home the following morning, there bore the beginnings of an argument that this time was definitely an argument. The main sticking point of the argument was the weight. Now I am imagining that anyone who has ever gone on holiday, whether it to be Dublin or Dubrovnik have experienced this before. The dreaded weight problem! The scales (which were provided by Mr. Warehouse I believe for when I went to Las Vegas earlier in the year) were showing us to be weighing in at around twenty-kilos which was what we were limited to in terms of airline restrictions. and So after several hours of fighting, we ended said argument, but not before I had taken all my clothes, shoes and anything else I could carry out of the hold luggage leaving just Mr. Warehouse's clothes and medication in there. Both exhausted from heat, arguing, packing and a French food-coma of meats and cheeses we hit the sack and for the first time in what seemed like forever, we set our alarms for the early wake-up call. 

Waking the following morning I could tell I had not had the best sleep in the world but was up and ready for the day ahead. I wanted my home. My bed. My duvet. Albeit on the contrary when I arrived home I realised that my bed in my tiny apartment was much smaller than the fluffy white island Mr. Warehouse and I had become accustomed too. The wonderful thing about mine and Mr. Warehouse's bed on holiday was that it was so big that I could starfish the night away, one of my many love's in the bedtime routine, without infringing on Mr. Warehouse's personal bed space. If I was nice and fancied a bit of intimacy I could always reverse backside out into Mr. Warehouse and create a criss-cross with only our bottoms touching. Sometimes I would live life on the edge, hanging off the end of the bed like a tree Panther dozing in the afternoon shade of a palm leaf or two. But all this was safe in the knowledge that if I ever got scared or wanted to snuggle, all I had to do was reach out to him through the heavenly sheets of cotton. 

Indeed once I had prised myself from the memory foam mattress I knew I should get myself ready before Mr. Warehouse moans yet again that I take too long to get ready and that I shouldn't be wearing all that make-up, I look beautiful without it. (Ahhh, Smush, Smush, Smush!) Getting myself ready I took an occasional peak through to Mr. Warehouse in the bedroom. Hurrying myself along I pecked a sleeping boyfriend just before 9am to head out to the market in order to find a Pain Au Chocolat and Croissant as we had yet to have one this holiday. I know and we were in France!? Scowling the markets by the riverbanks near the hotel I could not find any. Pacing down every street and looking in every delicatessen, patisserie and boulangerie I found nothing. Then one last ditch attempt at a busy cafe which was overrun with business men, espresso and financial newspapers. There was one left. And so sacrificing my love for food I bought the last one from the waiter at the bar and ran back to the hotel with it still warm in my hands. Mr. Warehouse woke as soon as I let myself in. He was still tired but appreciative for the breakfast pastry, even though he never said thank you. 

Grabbing our things together we made our way to the airport and after discovering the hold luggage was well within weight restrictions (coming in at just over 16kg). Happily as we trotted up to the security we ended up nearly having yet another argument over the fact I had lost several items from my hand luggage because Mr. Warehouse said I should put them there to keep the weight of the hold luggage down. But I couldn't stay mad at my Mr. Warehouse if I tried. It was only Chocolate spread anyway. I could buy that back home, I suppose ... But that's not the point here! Finally after scrapping together enough loose change to buy a baguette and a bottle of water, playing a long tedious game of Eye-Spy, the wait for the air-plane gates to be announced was soon upon us and we were nearly on our way home. 

Sitting on the plane ready to taxi down the run way I looked lovingly at Mr. Warehouse and how nervous he was at the point of take off. Hmm. I had enjoyed living with him for these past few days, I thought to myself as I applied the primer to my already heated skin. Indeed the holiday in general had not been the nightmare I'd envisaged and to be fair whilst I had been cranky on holiday (mainly down to the soaring 36-degree-temperatures) since being back, things have been great! Sex is better than ever I think in my whole life - Yes, even better than Mr. Workaholic! We cuddle and kiss much more. I appreciate him and his company alot more now than I think I did before. In a way, so far at least, I think this holiday has brought us together even more than we were already. Hmmm, Maybe is this the first holiday with a boyfriend that has not ended in a tearful break-up and move in location?!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Up, Up and Away!

Morning All, 

So after many, many months of planning and preparing as well as at least forty evenings spent scouring the internet for the best deals around, Mr. Warehouse and I are finally off on our first ever holiday, abroad at least. Unfortunately a luxury two-week holiday in Bali or even the Canaries is off the cards as we both are in financial straights at the moment and whilst I am saving to get myself a little run-around, Mr. Warehouse is slowly trying to clear some debts of his own. 

But after searching for what seemed like weeks on end for a week long break away from Blightly, somewhere hot and with things to do I got it! Lyon in the South of France. Now it may not be somewhere beachy or sickenly romantic, but you try finding a holiday for a week somewhere hot, in the school holidays and on an August bank holiday weekend, and all for under £200.00! It isn't easy, trust me!  

Because it is France, and being situated in a city half way between Paris and Cannes, full of culture much different to our own and wonderful places to visit I am thoroughly looking forward to going away. I am kind of hoping that I will be swept off my feet a little by it all. I mean, I am already very much loved up with my Mr. Warehouse but maybe this holiday with each other will reignite something special again and make that fire burn even brighter than before. Although I cant help feel slightly uneasy at the fact that the last few times I have been away with a boyfriend for more than a few nights it has always ended with a break-up within eight-weeks. 

A small part of me hopes that whilst Mr. Warehouse doesn't like flying,  he will enjoy himself and learn to accept another culture and enjoy the time we spend together. I would like to think that a trip to France, one of the most romantic places I believe to be in the world, along with New York, Bath and Italy, will inspire him and excite him to be more romantic, because lets face it girls, we all love a bit of cheese with the flowers and chocolates thing. 

What I am most looking forward to about the trip to Lyon is all the things we will get to experience and do there. Situated in the Rhone-Alpes region, it is France's third largest city. The city is not only known for its historical and architectural brilliance, not to mention the art of weaving and creating silk products high in the hills overlooking the city, but also its gastronomical flare too. The Lyonnaise cuisine is something of a foodies paradise, and as a lady who cant get enough of the sweet and savoury, I am more than happy to be dining out for breakfast, lunch and dinner. and with a Roman Amphitheatre to parooze, Rhone and Saone Rivers to cruise along and the trendy Presqu'île peninsula areas to explore I am sure not to be disappointed with the out come of this longer mini-break. 

Question is will it break? And if it doesn't when will we? I have said to Mr. Warehouse on several occasions over the past few weeks that there will be some sort of argument. I am anticipating it. I know that I will be as calm as a cucumber chilling in a freezer box whilst the hot-headed and frantic flap that is Mr. Warehouse will be running around my flat come Thursday morning asking if I have my Passport for the hundredth time and hurrying me along to do my make-up despite not needing to leave for at least a good half-hour?! Or maybe it will be at the airport when I fail to take off my shoes at security or forget I had that bottle of hand cream in my carry on? Maybe it wont be until we get to Lyon and then, in broken French, try to navigate our way through afternoon traffic to our hotel? Maybe it will be all three and in the heat of the moment (and the thirty-something-degree heat out there at the moment) we will rage at each other like an Italian at a wedding and then have gloriously loud, passionate and frantic make-up holiday sex! 

Ahhh I cannot wait! Bring. It. On. Just to think, this time next week I will be on my last night there, preparing to come home and writing to you from what I hope will be a wonderfully lovely hotel and holiday. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Teenage Dreams!

Hello Fellow Humans, 

I have finished with my Googling of Teeth Fetish's and Horny Dental Nurse Porn. Instead I have set my sights the bookshelf of my youth. Ahh yes, my teenage diaries!

I shall invite you this evening into the world of Pre-TATOATS. A universe before the wonderment of college and complicated-ness of adult life as I know it now. First entry is from 2008, a year I remember for all the wrong reasons; Turning seventeen, getting my first boyfriend, first girls holiday abroad with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Prom, Finishing School, Exams and my parents divorce, not to mention what the subsequent months entailed ... 

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01 January 2008
Dear Diary, 
OMG! First day of 2008 and I sat on my bum and did nothing all day. Well not all day but hey-ho! I made a video for Miss Tweedle-Dee (yes I have known her that long!) about Miss Tweedle-Dee. I also watched The Mighty Boosh (of which I am still an avid fan!) and wow it is actually amazzzzing! I love The Mighty Boosh and I love Noel Fielding. He is fit!  Noel Fielding is the best thing ever and I want his babies! Anyway, as I was saying. January. I have lots of things planned already like seeing Elliot Minor (some unknown, unsigned student emo-band I used to be into that apparently made it big!?). So New Years Day means New Years Resolutions which in turn mean that I will make stupid, pathetic little rules about life that I will attempt to follow and yet after two weeks fail miserably and be found in the corner of my music class scoffing galaxy chocolate and lusting after Mr. Woof (yes and him!) as per usual! OMG! that first sentence was so gay?! LOL! (my twenty-year-old self is still impressed with how much Sass I had back then!)
9pm - OK so now I am upstairs and upset. I am so fucked off right now! Stupid brother and his provoking attitude. Little dick splash. Who does he think he is winding me up like that. Needs to grow some pubes the little Knob Stain! Grrrr!

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13 February 2008
Dear Diary, 
So right now I am sitting on my bed listening to my devil of a brother sing The hills are alive. Well I wish they were alive so they would swallow you whole you pathetic little worm. Also went to town today with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I am really glad as I think I unearthed some home-truths. She said that I bounce from Guy to Guy and am a bit of a pinball when it comes to boys, latching myself onto them and getting hurt. Maybe this is because I have never had a proper boyfriend before or been in a real relationship. I hate to say it but I think she is right. (safe to say that my teenage years only reflected directly onto my twenties love-life)

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14 April 2008
Dear Diary, 
Well today has been boring! Although it has gone rather fast and unusually exciting! OMG! LOL! PMSL! ROTFL! LMAO! OK so I am walking home from school and I glance over and see Mr. Prom (a guy I fancied in the first year of High school, went off him for a while and then fell in love with him just before Prom, asked him to be my date at prom, he agreed, we flirted for a while but he never came Prom shopping with me and we didn't get round to sorting anything out for the big night so we never went to Prom together. He became Prom King, some bitch became Prom Queen and I think he is now studying Fitness and playing Rugby at University somewhere in Kent!). Then I hear as I turn away and smile subtly him sing beautifully that song from Pretty Women. I mean Wow! I'm in love! I heart R.C!

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02 June 2008
Dear Diary, 
Nicola (whoever she was) is such a bitch-whore! (at this point teen-me has drawn a picture of a stick man with a hairy bearded fact and wearing a skirt with a dick popping out) God I hate her so much! Apparently I am doing my new job as a school cleaner all wrong and not doing it properly! Well fuck you shit head! (Ahh yes now I know who Nicola was. She was my boss at the time. Large lady with Ginger frizzy hair like Merida from Disney's Brave. We all have those days at work don't we, even now I call people Bitch-whores in my head!)

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25/26 July 2008
Dear Diary, 
So off on holiday today to fucking France yet again (Despite me booking a holiday to Lyon in August this year with Mr. Warehouse - Clearly wasn't that bad!?) but at least this time I am with my bestie, Miss Tweedle-Dumb. So once we were on the Ferry and Mom, Dad and Brat Brother had pissed off to find some crappy-shitty reclining chairs, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I thought we would do an all nighter. As we were on the deck though. Haha Poop Deck - LOL. Yeah so as we were on Deck watching the ocean we saw these two guys. Daring Dan and Magic Marc were their names. After stalking them for a while we got chatting. OMG! Dan is so cute (at later glances though I can assure you he was not!) and I think he is well into me (Definitely wasn't as I later found out through Myspace.com that he had a girlfriend)! What could possibly prepare Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I for what happened next. No we didn't have sex! Although I was so ready! (Haha, no I wasn't I was like sixteen and couldn't spell sex if I tried) Once we had stalked and captured our prey Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I took them to a secluded, dark and derelict part of the ship (No, not a ship, a ferry). Then IT happened! Dan was spewing some shit about how he gave free hugs (a Japanese thing that I think we all did at school as an excuse to let off some steam and grope one another) but also kisses for a pound. But me and Miss Tweedle-Dumb were "Skint" so we were allowed free ones. Miss Tweedle-Dumb was pounced upon with no warning. I was given a more gentle and slow passionate snog! OMG! He was a good kisser. Top five maybe! He was sooo cute about it. "Hair" he said to me as he pulled the hairs from my face and went in for the kill (as if this bloke was some kind of fucking vampire!?). Not gonna lie I have a super big crush on him and his Stars and Straps Hi-Tops! OMFG! He is so scene! Best Holiday ever! (Until years later we went on the first holiday with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in Fuerteventura)

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Ahh What I didn't know was round the corner was yet more heart ache, but also fun and frivolous times ahead. As if there wasn't enough already!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Baby Brain!

Hallo there!

I hope this week finds you all in good health and enjoying the British weather we are having at the moment, unless you are in the Bahamas and reading along or somewhere else hot and sunny to which I congratulate you on your choice of weather and hope someone brings you a cocktail soon. 

This week I am feeling much better than I have been with a mixture of Hayfever, a hectic workload and not much sleep resulting in me feeling grumpy of late. However this weekend, spending it with friends, family and good food, all in the sunshine washing it down with copious amounts of Blossom Hill has obviously had a positive impact on me. Something else that has had an impact on me, and possibly put me in a favouring mood is children. To be more specific I should explain before someone starts throwing pregnancy tests at me! No I am not pregnant, or at least I think I am not anyway, but at Sunday's BBQ with Mr. Warehouse and his large family clan I felt more than ever that time was a-ticking and that my womb should probably be put up for rent in the next few years. 

I am almost positive that every girl my age has this problem though. There we are in the prime of our life, beautiful and as wonderful as we probably ever will feel. But at the back of our minds we know that there is only a limited amount of time that we have to procreate in. The hurry to get a career, find a man, settle down and start churning out sproglett's is immense and so is the pressure. Careers are limited now, and dating opportunities once college and university is over and done with are relatively slim unless you brave the dark depths of Internet dating. Forgive me for thinking so, but life seemed so much easier for our grandparents. I mean, you were cooped up in education until you were sixteen or so, then you found a nice job working in an office as a typist. Soon a young man would see you about town and ask you on a date. You would go jiving in a 1950's dance-hall and end up courting until your father was approached for your hand in marriage. Before you know it your 2.5 kids a dog and are looking like something out of a Betty Crocker cook book - Or at least in my head I am! Now I am sure that isn't perfect for everyone but for me it would and I am slightly disappointed in the fact I never made it to Uni and therefore maybe never met my future husband?

All of that aside however, if you had asked me a year ago, or even six-months ago, what my opinion of children, especially babies, was I would freeze with fear. Scared by snotty noses, nervous of nappies and wary of whimpers I had successfully avoided all contact with small humans for many years, even my own little cousins. However, over the past few months since Mr. Warehouse and I have been together I have felt increasingly more comfortable around children and babies, although granted I wouldn't know how to look after one on my own. I somewhat cockily think that I will just pick it up. Can't be that hard surely?! There just little people. "Who depend on you for everything" my inside voices say menacingly. And then it dawns on me how horrible that feeling must be. You can't have a lie-in. You can't just hit the town for a girls night out. You can't just make a quick detour after work to Debenhams just because you want to have a look for a nice pair of heels - Hell you can't even wear heels now your a mom! Leggings and flat footwear only for the school run and even then that's only after you have made several packed lunches and have prevented world war three from happening over Cornflakes or Coco Pops. 

I know that I am only twenty-three but I am well aware that I am not in a stable enough relationship or even financially strong enough for a child right now, let alone my living arrangements and lifestyle. People, and possibly more-so girls always question I find about "What would happen if I found out I was pregnant right now?" and I honestly think my answer is simple. I just don't know. Maybe before I would have said I would choose adoption or in some certain cases abortion, but maybe now my mind would change right now with my life as it is - A stable stead job, a good and loving boyfriend and a place of my own. Albeit it would be very far from perfect and the life I have wanted for myself from such a young age I think I would still learn to manage. After all, that is my job. 

I would definitely have to move somewhere bigger, leaving behind my pent house apartment with its sloped-ceiling, and cosy feel. Instead trading it in for somewhere more practical and with less stairs. I would at some stage have to think about giving up work to take maternity leave to live a life at home juggling Cbeebies, pots of 'HiPP' and a never ending rota of washing, instead of engineers and job paperwork. During pregnancy I would have to give up all the good things like wine, eggs Benedict and smoked salmon. I would have to sleep on my back and not my tummy as I usually do and would end up waddling more than a duck with a chaffing problem. All of this coupled with the lack of freedom, sleep and constant anxiety - Yes, I don't think I would enjoy motherhood as a twenty-something with her life full steam ahead. I would want to do it the proper way; Travel a bit, get a good job, nice place to live, meet someone and fall in love, move in, get married, and then start a little clan of my own. 

All that said though I kind of like the idea of being someone's sole provider. Their playmate, their comforter, their mother. I would be the kind of parent that would let them stay up and watch horror films (but only after I had watched them first to make sure they're not too scary). I would be the kind of mom that would rustle up some freshly baked goods when a broken heart is in need of mending. I would like to think that I would be that "hawt" soccer Moom that has all the kids round and secretly shares out some vodka between them all , in moderation of course. Hmm, yes. I think that motherhood would suit me in a way but there is a lot to do before we get there. Besides, a white picket fence and a four-bed detached isn't going to fund itself you know. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Nice Day For A White Wedding!

Afternoon All, 

And so as my problematic complaint against my energy company, British Gas (See last weeks post - 'An Electrifying Discovery'), bubbles away in the background I pack my bags and forget all about it as this weekend was time for a wedding! NO! No, not mine! Haha Phew, no! A relative of Mr. Warehouse's was to be married this weekend and as a result I had been invited for a right old family knees up with my other half and his crazy, crazy family. 

So after searching for nearly two months for a dress I had finally found one, just not in my size. I ordered a UK size 16 - Too small. I ordered a UK size 18 in a different colour - Still too small. I order four sizes too big for my just so I can get the right colour and low and behold it fits. Horrified that I could comfortable fit in such a size I have promised myself that I shall start my new diet and routine on the 1st of June, once all the festivities of May are over, wouldn't want to deprive myself now would I?! Besides, despite our differences the girls and I are finally off on holiday - Yes again, but this time I have got my wish. I am off to the party party island of KAVOS!!! Unfortunately though we have booked outside of season but rest assured where I and my Tweedles go there is always a party to be had, even if it does involve playing innuendo bingo on the balcony and having sun-cream squirt fights. Anyway back to the wedding ... 

Friday morning and the post arrives. I am anxious to see my delivery. Two dresses have turned up and as a precaution I take both with me to the hotel, just in case. Leaving work I was ready and excited to go on a mini-break/exciting weekend away with Mr. Warehouse as well as heating up the dance-floor with some good old Macarena and Cha Cha Slide! However I did not take into account the fact that neither of those songs were invented in the days whilst the happy couple were growing up and so there was Jives and Jigs the whole night through. 

On arriving to the hotel and checking in I had the horror of realising I left one of the most important things behind - My straighteners/curlers. Enquiring at reception as to if there were any spare pairs that had been left by another guest or where I would be able to buy myself a second pair seemed futile, until that is he picked up that gorgeous little telephone of his and rang around some old Crimpers! Finding one that was free and not too expensive either he made an appointment for her to come to mine and Mr. Warehouse's suite. Thanking the man profusely we made our way to our junior suite, rushing up the stairs and into our very own apartment for the weekend. Complete with folded toilet paper, biscuits and sparkling water we were in our element exploring the rooms and squealing when we found something new. As things became heated though and passion ripped through the Redlodge Junior Suite of the Oliver Cromwell Hotel in March, Cambridgeshire, we decided to take a dip in the pool. 

Naughtiness did not avoid us there either and as I beckoned Mr. Warehouse to sneak into my changing room he declined, opting for his own instead. A cool swimming pool, sweaty steam room and sweltering sauna awaited us as we entered but there was only one thing I wanted to do and despite numerous attempts in begging, Mr. Warehouse never did allow me to see how long I could hold my breath for in the hot tub. Far too excited to be in public and in need of a banging Chinese take-out we went back to our room, but not before I attempted another changing room kidnapping. Chinese ordered we settled in for a night in front of the TV and finally hit the sheets, only to be woken several time throughout the night by  what looked like a rather rowdy and shoddy attempt and an incognito drugs deal. 

Saturday morning and alarms ringing Mr. Warehouse and I rolled over and both took one look at each other. After a night of not sleeping well, shouting from outside and heat from the rooms thermostat we were lagging already. prising ourselves from the bedsheets we assembled ourselves together. With my make-up done, eyelashes on, hairdresser been and gone and breakfast finished all we had to do was slip on our outfits and head out to the Taxi-Cab waiting in reception. Pulling up to the front of the registry office I questioned my beliefs in having a wedding inside any venue other than a church, despite being sceptical about religion. The house looked beautiful from the outside, Wisteria billowing down the walls of the old Victorian house looking over the River Nene. Pretty indoors as it was outside, we took our seats in the Library clad in sparkly chandeliers and walls decked with old dusty books. We were soon joined by Momma Warehouse and other family that I knew. 

The ceremony was beautiful and the wedding day as blissful and as perfect as anyone could have hoped. Not everything was to my tastes but then again, it was not my wedding. The brides gown was genuinely breathtaking and something I would have been more than happy to wear; Bride or not! But as the band began to play and the dance-floor became busy Mr. Warehouse and I were surrenders to tiredness, eventually collapsing into bed in the early hours of Sunday morning. 

This weekend made me question a few things though, as I suppose it does when anyone, particularly a women goes to a wedding. Commitment is a big thing and although I do not want my home invaded permanently by the stench of man-fart and odd socks, I am slightly more willing to thinking about it. But certainly not for a very long time yet! What isn't long away though is the annual awards ceremony with work where by people get awards, we all eat food, there's an abundance of free booze and everyone dresses in fancy dress. It is literally my dream come true weekend and unlike this time last year, Cinderella will go to the ball ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx