Foster Care 

I was always sporty as a kid, my brother Dale was a rugby league player and I envied him. His friends were pretty cool and he would always have lots of them around. Paul, Shaun and fergie were the ones I remember the most, Paul was good looking and Natalie my sister was in awe of him but Dale was 8 years older than us and him and Stacey had a different dad to us. At a young age I didn’t get what that meant but mention their dad to my mum and her face always looked so sad. Later I found out her first husband Len had had an affair with a 16 year old and my mum had left him. Dad used to say when he met my mum she had two kids a suitcase and a tin of beans!!!! Deep down we all knew mum didn’t love dad, she still held a candle for Len but she was too stubborn to admit it or go back to him. 
So on July the 21st of July 1978 I was born. Claire Janine Adams. Named after my nana Jean and my initials matched my dads ( CJ ). I wasn’t called CJ a lot as a child, my dad would call me it sometimes and I liked the nickname it was different. When I joined the Army and finally got away from Hull and my past I introduced myself as CJ to the girls in my troop. I saw it as a close the door on all that shit thing. CJ was a cool name and a fresh start…. I couldn’t be so fucking wrong.
We used to live behind an army barracks called Middleton bks down Calvert lane we lived in a council house all 6 of us, Dad worked away sometimes ( I thought that was code for prison ) but he boasted about being stabbed in Glasgow and showed us pictures of him and Phil working in the Humber bridge so maybe he really was. My mum suffered with agraphobia and struggled to go outside. Our school was Eastfield just across the road and I had a few friends I loved to lark out with. My early memories of friends were birthday parties with Kerry foster, Vicky Wilson, Nicola Hoyles and Nicky foster. 
I enjoyed school and I loved some of my teachers from Mrs White who would catch your tears in her hanky, Mr Pinder with the broken jaw and was the scariest bloke I ever met to Mrs Watson who was my last teacher there when I moved up to high school. Both my schools have been torn down now to make way for these super academies popping up all over the country. It’s a shame as I will miss the lady we used to sing to in the outside toilets, legend says you sing white lady white lady I killed your baby then flush the toilet and she would go away in the colour of the water foam. Bollocks it was toilet cleaner!!!! 
The third time I remember and the last time my dad ever physically attacked me was on a school morning Natalie and me were arguing yet again. We argued so much it drove everyone crazy. I hated her she used her looks to get everything. I was jealous of her looks it didn’t matter how fast I ran or how many achievements I made at army cadets or in sports. Natalie’s looks seemed to be more important than education or sport. She knew this as well, her and dad were similar academically ” thick ” but they had the patter they could get what they want of who they want with charm and flirting. Me however my idea of flirting would be to win a race or score a try or goal. If boys spoke to me I was there friend first. I did have boyfriends but that was just kids stuff. I used to wonder would I prefer to be pretty and thick or ugly and intelligent. Pretty always won but i annoyed myself thinking like that as I knew, it was ridiculous to think that way but I envied how everyone found her beautiful and me just a scruffy Tom boy. 
After a full blown argument which I can’t remember for we started to fight. I ended up outside the house and continued down the street where we went to get the school bus. I was swearing so was she then dad turned up I knew what was going to happen so told her to go dad dragged me inside the house. And starts to punch me several times in the stomach whilst holding my head back by my hair blow after blow I could feel my ribs crack again and he wasn’t for stopping I was winded and crying at the same time. But then from somewhere I got the energy to hit him back. It was proberly the most feeble attempt to hit a man but it connected! Fuck!!!!! 
Stand by stand by CJ. 

He punched me one last time but this time it was in the face. How the fuck boxers stand for that is beyond me. Jesus Christ!!!! 

Dad grabbed me again and then threw me out the door. I started to walk to the school bus I couldn’t breathe very well and knew I looked a mess. After that everything is confusing. My class teacher was being weird and then I was called to the office. Natalie was stood there and the teachers kept asking me what was wrong but I would not tell them. I just said I had an argument they said the bus driver said I was quiet and no arguments had happened on the bus shit I was running out of excuses. What was I to say. My dad has been physically abusing me for years please help me or keep my mouth shut. So I did just that. But and I don’t know how they found out wether it was my sister who told them or someone else I don’t know but within an hour a woman came to the school and took me to a centre down Pickering road. 

Foster care. 

After the last time dad hit me the social services intervened. I was put into Foster care and my dad was put on an anger management programme. The house was fucking massive it was a 8 bed house down boulevard. Pat and Jerry where my foster parents and they looked after teenage girls only. Pat said they had 13 kids all girls and one boy Neil, Jerry joked he was gay wether that’s true I don’t know. Pat was a lovely woman short tonged hair and Jerry was a skinny man who fixed refrigerators. The pair of them were so different to my parents. I’ve heard so many horror stories about foster parents but these two were angels such lovely people I guess I was lucky. They gave me £20 for pocket money and I could spend it on what I want. Winner winner chicken dinner!!!! 

The night I came to care I was given a top floor room I couldn’t believe houses could be this big third floor!!!! It had two single beds in it and its own shower room. Wow I was lucky to get the sink if Natalie was doing her frigging hair. It had a radio in it too and ironically on the radio it was playing ” things can only get better ” on it. 
You think????? 

I sat in my bed holding my ribs as they were still hurting and sat and thought about if Stacey and Natalie were alright and I hoped he never hit them too now. 

Stacey my eldest sister is by far the nicest person I know she’s an amazing mum and person, she’s had some shit times but her dry sense of humour and sheer wit just shines through she’s been on a diet since 1982 ( jokes ) but in my eyes her beauty just shines through wether she’s a size 10 or 18. She is a midget though can’t stand spiders or creepy crawly things and dances like no one is watching. I love my older sister I also love her husband Andy he’s like a brother to me with his pipe dreams and boring facts but he’s a hard worker a good man they have two children Harry and Holly ( the diva ) and they live in a nice house on the wrong side of Hull ( east ) dirty reds!!!! My rugby team is Hull FC we are the west of hull dirty reds are east hull. Stacey moved there years ago and I will never forgive her for letting the side down. lol. 
I don’t recall dad ever hitting Stacey bad or Natalie even. Just me and Dale, dad broke his nose once and Dale moved back in with his real dad. I was too young to remember it so I can’t tell you why but I know Dale hated our Dad and reused to call him it. Stacey was young when mum met my dad so in her eyes his was her dad. And too be honest he was as her own dad only cared about Dale and didn’t have much to do with her. It must be heart breaking for her but then again she a tough cookie. Strength isn’t always measured by taking a hit as I learnt when I was older. For some reason I had to protect my sisters from dad. So I did what I could when I could, if it meant I was in pain for a bit so be it. But once I left and went into care it was a worry. Mum said dad did his programme and he had changed but for me our relationship was over I’d had enough of him and my love for my dad had depleted. I loved him so much he was so strong and hard working I built my first wall with him, stood behind the army bks looking at the trucks thinking that will be me one day. I told dad I wanted to be a solider but he said girls can’t be in the army Claire only men did that but I never believed him. I was gonna be one of those who ran around in fields with a gun fighting the bad men, years later I proved him wrong. Even if I wasn’t running around a field I still wore the uniform and I was still doing what I said I would protect people. Just as I did as a little one for my sisters. 
I left foster care eventually but had made my mind up to leave mums and dads for good so at just short of 16 I borrowed money of my brother and moved into a flat with a girl is met on the nightclub scene in Hull. 

From coming out of care to eventually joining up I’d lived in a few places. Getting a flat with my Boyfriend Paul Adams no relation, I’d nicked him off my sister Natalie which she never forgave me for and later in life the worst boyfriend ever The Narc! had used that against me ( he will always be a shit cunt in my eyes so I couldn’t give a fuvk what cry baby says ) I fell pregnant to Paul at around 13/14 and mum had found out I was so scared. She just took control of the situation I moved back home and went on annual camp with army cadets mum had packed some sanitary things but when I got back I hadn’t used them. She asked me why I hadn’t had a period I said I don’t know so she dragged me to doctors. The doctor confirmed I was pregnant at around 6-8 weeks. Fuck knows what that meant but I heard termination and a date was booked. I laid in bed thinking what are they on about a baby???? Where was it? and how come they have to operate to get it out? 

Mum said keep your mouth shut and do not speak to anyone about it. I had to go to hospital to remove it and everything would be fine. I asked if I could still play hockey, rugby and go to cadets she said yes but do not tell anyone what was planned. So I carried on as normal till Op abortion was in full swing. I didn’t understand it at the time but if you look at the way my mum had arranged it all you would think she was ex mil. 

Dad would go to work and I would not go to school that day. I was to met by my auntie ( northern for one of mums friends ) at the top of the street she would drive me to the hospital book me in and then leave. I was dressed in a white thing with my arse sticking out an hour later I was back in the ward. The baby was gone, auntie picked me up took me home and mum put me to bed and dad was non the wiser. The baby was gone. 
At 14 I’d had an abortion, luckily for me I didn’t understand it, mum put me on the pill and again nothing more was said. 

After the abortion I became an absolute idiot thinking I was above and beyond everything drugs was my main concern. I met a guy called Collin graves he was younger than me but I really liked him. He was into boxing and took drugs like me I smoked pot and did other stuff like E’s and speed but I never thought I would go further than that. We used to hang around a place called gypsyville, it was your stereotypical council estate with its good and bad people. For some reason I decided to take my causal drug habit further I knew I wanted to join up when I was old enough but didn’t care what I was doing in the meantime.

I left school early couldn’t be arsed with it and no one cared that I didn’t go. So I nicked my friends national insurance number as she showed me it. I wrote down the number and went to a job place where I knew I could get work under 16, they thought I was someone else. So I started to work in a factory packing Christmas cakes. My eldest sister Stacey worked there but she was permanent staff I was just a temp but I didn’t care it was money and I could go out every weekend with my mates around hull. Until I got sacked. Basically some dick head lass was doing my head in one day so I stood up and punch her square in the gob I think her name was shelly, Stella my old mate was stood there laughing a fuvking head off coz the daft Bint landed in a cheery tub. So that was the end of my career in the cake factory. 

I looked for other work and got another job in a fish factory down hessle rd. It stank it was rats but by that time my drug habit was getting a bit pricey so i had to work to pay for my weekends out. I’d gave my mum board but I knew I wanted out that house ASAP. 

So that’s when I got the flat with my friend Kerry ironically the flat was just across the road from my foster parents house and I’d visit them from time to time. There was a group of girls I hung around with then my sister Natalie Stella Nicky and some more from the drugs scene. Natalie was falling deeper and deeper into it and I knew she had progressed from recreational to the stronger stuff. Why I’m not sure as her life didn’t seem that bad at the time but we all have issues we hide maybe the effect of dad had taken its toll and me leaving her might of causes her to regress, she was strong though a right little battler she could fight for herself but not whilst I was around that was my job. One night whilst I was in the Army we went out in a local night club I turned round for 5 seconds to look back at a lass pagering ( beating up ) my sister!!! I went fuvking bansi grabbed the lass and whilst I was kicking ten balls of shit out of her. I syllable smacked her, something along the lines off 

She ( punch ) is ( punch ) my ( punch ) little ( punch ) sister and so on, I think I said no one hits her apart from me. 

We got threw out by the bouncers and I spent the night nursing a fat lip. I later found out the girl was named Rachel Shipley and her family weren’t to be messed with. Well neither was fuvking I. Her brother asked me if he ever gets any drama from then on in would I square lasses away for him for £50 a go!!!! What was I the hired help lol but I didn’t as I was in the army then and didn’t want to get in the shit. 

Tbc…… 

Worrying! 

Worries? I have a few, but there are many differences now to the type I allow. Firstly I upset a friend yesterday, she had read my last blog and could not finish it. Why? Because unfortunately it rang home to her, she too has suffered a form of abuse. I did offer to take it down, I would never want to revisit a bad experience for anyone. However she said “no, if by telling my story helps another person in any way then it should stay” 

This got me thinking again, just how many of my friends or any off my followers have experienced some form of abuse? Why when we live in a age where mental illness, learning difficulties, disability, sexual preference and or any other “not the norm” are recognised and many a programme or agency are out there for people to get the empowerment that they deserve! 
I read an article just yesterday about a child being bullied for having red hair or ginger as we call it. Yes it’s a know fact that “gingers” get some name calling but so do fat, gay, poor people. Where does this end. Who is the norm? I know I’m certainly not! 
My worries are prioritised:-

My kids

My family ( mother mostly ) 

My illness 

My fitness journey 

Money. 

Relationships????? Not for a long time will I be ready for that. 

Lastly my past. 
Ask me 2 years ago and that list was severely different. Going through counselling and watching a stand up comedian ( strange but true ) has taught me that. Your past can not be changed no matter what you do or try. It’s how you deal with the present and future is what defines you as a person. 
You can however look to understand your past and learn to forgive persons who hurt you and yourself also. I forgive my father he’s dead now, he was of a time when the things he did weren’t as bad as what they are now. He was abused himself as a child ( this does not change that it was wrong ) but he wasn’t educated either. I forgive people for their mistakes if they have apologised to me. I won’t forgive people who don’t or won’t apologise though but I also won’t fret about it either. What’s the point in getting yourself worked up about something years ago. It’s not worth my energy, I’m concentrating on my improvements as a mother, friend and athlete. The rest is so fat down the echelon ladder, i won’t allow or warrant it my time. 
Worrying, everyone does it everyone can learn from it. Use your energy to promote active meaning to your life, not something that can never be changed unless you have a time machine! 

PTSD…

So I was diagnosed with complex PTSD,  at   first I thought it can’t be all that bad. What’s a few nightmares? I’ve been having night terrors since I was a young girl, the only way I can explain them are if you can imagine being laid down and an overwhelming force is pinning you down you can’t move you can’t talk but you can hear everything. I used to cry, weep scream for my mum but nothing came out! No one could hear me, these dreams used to be followed with excruciating head aches and I couldn’t cope with the pain. My mum would turn all the lights off in my bedroom and demand everyone to be quiet and let me sit in the dark until they would go, it could sometimes take days and they always made me throw up.  She thought it was my eyes what she didn’t know was it was lack of sleep through crippling nightmares. I shared a room with my younger sister and she slept like a log, so she wouldn’t be able to remember my nightmares so easy. I can’t remember exactly how old I was when it started to happen proberly around the age of 5 to 6 but something happened to me and my mind keeps it blocked out. I told the Narc once he used it against me. I will never tell another soul again. The one thing I do remember is when my sister wet the bed and jumped in bed with me it saved me often.

I was 9 or 10 and I was wearing a pair of Garfield jeans ( patches of Garfield and Odie on the knees ) and I was riding my bike as fast as I could. Dad, Christopher John Adams had rang the house phone you know the one sat in the hallway on an old looking phone table, green leather on the top with the standard issue mirror above it and the even older style phone. These were the days were the phone stayed in one place and you had to sit on the stairs to use it. My mum Lynne is a bit of a snob wether it was Mrs Bucket snob or a true reflection I never really worked it out she detest swearing yet she’s not completely sin free of foul language herself, a daughter to a Sea Captain who she rarely saw as he was away the majority of her life, my grandma Gladys she unfortunately passed away when my mum was 10 years old from multiple sclerosis, she died young and had buried two of her own sons Lesley and Stephen my uncles to lukiema and cot death.

My mother never went without anything although my grandfather Lesley was never home, he had a very respected job in Hull and to be a captain was highly regarded, but he was never there and my mother was brought up by my great grandma Helen. She was a slim woman before her own terminal illness and although she still isn’t a big woman in her eyes being over a size 10 is large. With thick dark curly hair and bright blue eyes she maintained our home and had to look posh at all times, this was the 80’s.

Dad would get drunk and ring from his usual drinking hole the five ways this was at the top end of booth ferry road and we lived not far down Belgrave drive, after moving from our council house across the road on Acron drive. Hull was and still is a shit hole in my eyes, but the people there are the salt of the earth, men are grafters and women weren’t to be fucked around with. Gob off too much and I can guarantee you would get your head kicked in by someone.

My dad liked to have a drink after work, if it wasn’t for the pick up truck with “Adams builders” written on the side and the tubs of swarfeiger under the sink I’d swear my old man just sat in mucky pub all day with his best mate Phil macnee.
Say what you like about him but he did graft. He was a charmer, couldn’t spell for shit and thick as mince but he worked hard. We had a rule in the house if any one rang up for him we had to say that he left out mum and we didn’t know where he went. This was for tax evasion, as he would never pay the tax man fuck all!!!
But there was a nasty side to my Dad and over the years I have learnt that he possibly had severe mental health issues like my grandfather. He was a jealous man it controlled him, my mother could do nothing without his say, he would get pissed out of head and excuse her of all sorts and when she argued the case he would then throw his fists around. He was a big man too, tall, dark haired and good looking ( apparently ) for me he was just my old man, so that kind of thing never entered my head. I would sit shaking thinking is he coming to us would he get that angry that me or my younger sister ( Natalie ) we shared a room I hated it as she slept with her eyes open the freak!!! but usually on a night it was Mum who felt the full force of dad.
Then in the morning we would go down stairs sometimes see the devastation of the night before or if mum had got up really early she would of done her best to tidy it up. I remember seeing a pole had gone through the bathroom window once but only through one pain of the double glazing dad never fixed it and over the years it had filled with water from the condensation and turned a little bit green. Me and Stacey ( my eldest sister ) mentioned it not long ago, strangely we laugh at these things when in reality we were 3 girls scared to death of our father and his brutality towards women! Mum would say we had everything but materialistic things weren’t what we all wanted , we needed to feel safe and living on egg shells in fear of upsetting your father, imprints on your brain for many years.
I can’t remember every time my dad braid me ( hull slang for getting a good hiding ) but I can remember one painfully brutal one. To this day my mum reckons he wasn’t that bad but she was embarrassed by it all and blocks it out. My elder brother ( Dale ) like me, gets so frustrated by my mums total disregard for our fathers abuse. She comes across like we are liars, like we make it up it eggs average the truth, she wasn’t a young girl being beaten by her father, she was an abused wife desperately trying to keep a family together and hide the horrible events that went on once dad had got angry. Alcohol wasn’t always the reason he could fly of the handle anything could trigger him off hence why I believe he suffered with a personality disorder and bi polar.
I was and too this day are constantly on a high level of alert i actually don’t know how to relax, I’ve struggled to deal with claiming down and now suffer myself with a mental illness.
Like I said at the beginning my Dad had rang the house phone and asked me to get some money from his stash and bring it to pub I think it was around £100 but don’t quote me on it. I got the money put it in my jeans pocket and rode my bike to pub. As I dropped my bike outside I reached into my pocket but couldn’t find the money. The sheer panic on my skinny little body felt like I had fallen and I instantly felt like I was going to puke.
Shit!!!!! He’s gonna kill me. I panicked started to cry shaking with fear I knew he would kick off and then I saw my mum inside of the pub, she must of known from my face. She came outside to talk to me she was dressed up in her usual boutique fashion, massive shoulder pads and even bigger curly hair. All her clothes has sequins on or some sort of 80’s bling, she would drink half a larger and lime and would conduct herself in a manner so to please my dad, she was a chain smoker and is renounded for her funny one liners or brutally honest rants.
I never liked my mum when I was growing up she wasn’t that warming to me for some reason but as I grew up and realised she was protecting my younger sister as my dad had his favourite and that was me. Natalie never got a look in from dad she was too girly too slow and he didn’t have time for people who couldn’t do things right the first time. Natalie wasn’t very quick at learning she struggled with the basics and if a professional was to have looked at her whilst she was young they would most definitely of diagnosed her with extreme learning difficulties.
I told mum I couldn’t find the money, tears streaming down my face and still shaking i was in a complete petrified state. She told me to go back to the house and re trace my steps. But I was in no state to think never mind look for the money. At the back of our house was a ten foot, I’ve never heard any one else refer to a place like this apart from people in hull. I actually measured it once and it was deffinetly not 10 of my feet wide! It was basically a road in between houses that you could access to your back garden with a car or small truck. So not an alley way or Twitten as I’ve heard them called before. But they weren’t maintained very well and ours had large pot holes. I rode my bike back the way I came, no money to be seen. I could feel my heart racing for such a young girl I knew what was coming next. If he got a hold of me I could try and take it but if he got Natalie she wouldn’t last his fists!!!! Funnily enough 26 years after I did the same to protect her and ended up getting stabbed by her boyfriend ( fuvking sisters )
As I was opening up the back gate I heard him shout my name. Natalie was behind me I shouted run, go to mum. Go now!!!!
She was useless she could never listen to instruction as for physicall ability her learning difficulties spawned from playing games to attention she just couldn’t compute things quick enough, the phrase ” couldn’t run a bath ” is what I would use for my sister. Looking pretty and applying make up yes, Putting one foot in front of the other over and over again at a faster pace was always a drama … But if she didn’t he would hurt her and that I couldn’t have so I made her go. Tears in my eyes and the sheer panic of a 6 ft man giving a scrawny blonde girl a kicking was coming.

First of all he was nice ( as always ) where’s the money Claire? So with eyes red and a frog in my throat, I tried to explain about the jeans and the bike ride and that I couldn’t find it. He went from smiling to gonna rip your throat out in 10 seconds. I put my bike propped up against the brick shed, bad fucking move. That’s the first blow !!!
I landed straight on the pedals right in my ribs crack the pain was unfuckingbekeicable!!!! He picked me up again smash!!!! FFS…. Just kill me now, this is agony…. He was shouting that loud but the pain was that bad I couldn’t work out what was going on. He threw me again this time away from the bike towards the back patio doors of the house. I got up but he chased me. 6ft pissed up bloke V’s Skinny agile kid I was faster than him but there weren’t many places to run. I managed to get up the steps and into the kitchen. Our kitchen was a long shape work tops either side and the whole house decorated perfectly. I carried on running it felt like I was in some sort of game. The poacher chasing his catch. I knew I was out of options when I reached the front porch it was there that he grabbed my pony tail.

He had followed me through the house and into the porch I was stuck it was a small porch and always has his shit in it. This time it was a welding thing a long piece of metal that looked like a tool and yeah I got it repeatedly I can’t remember how many times he hit me with it but It smarted. Heavy blows one after the other the pain cracking my bones each time, the sweat on his brow and the smell of alcohol is imprinted in my brain. I can’t stand the smell of beer to this day and a drunk man coming anywhere near me, I tend to keep my distance the blows kept coming to my little body ( always to my body ) funnily enough!!!!!
Now this is where it goes blank!!!!
Did he knock me out or have I forgotten what happened????? I remember being throw outside on to our caravan Dad kept it parked by the front door and I remember my shirt being ripped open maybe the sleeve was torn off. I can’t remember the long walk to the pub to find mum but I do remember the faces of the men who drank regularly with Dad in that pub, I can also remember their look of disgust when I fell through the double doors. My mums scream and then I was out!

Jackie was my mums friend she was a bubbly woman with short hair. I woke up to seeing her in the hospital but don’t remember going home. I think spaghetti was made for me and I was put to bed. Dad was no where to be seen and mum said he went to Sheffield for a few days.
Nothing much was said after that about the incident other than ” it never happened ” from mum or “Claire stop making things up ”
I’ve never been sure as to why she did that maybe she thought we would forget or it would all go away. Well it didn’t it bloody hurt too much. What a wanker I wish I’d of hit him back!!!! And one day I did.

Years of Dad became the norm. Christmas’s, party’s, normal day’s any day really he would ruin them all from his drinking and bad temper. He would kick of for almost anything. I hated him hugging me or picking me up. Anyone hugging me to be honest. Strangely a person who did me wrong who I will explain in the book later taught me it’s ok to hug. Now I think I wanna hug her around the throat instead!
I’ve been in the USA for 10 days now and slept over 8 hours a night. My PTSD is dormant, no nightmares or terrors. I have no fears of my ex coming to hurt me or finding out where I live. In the UK I live in fear of my past and the disgusting people who try to hurt me. Over here I feeel safe, unknown and quietly tucked away. I’ve some big decisions to make when I fly back tomorrow. The first being where do I want to live?  and the answer is not the UK!

Monday Morning reality check! 

So I’ve freaked out! Had a bit of a wobble so to speak. The what if’s have taken there toll on me over the weekend. My diet has gone up more food more carbs. These little buggers scare the shit out of me. I’m worrying about weight gain but have to gain weight i.e. muscle weight. But standing on scales and seeing a higher number keeps freaking me out. It’s pathetic I know! So how do I over come this?

I threw them in the bin, the only time I can weigh myself now is at the gym or if I see a random industrial scale in boots. I need to get over this stupid idea that weight is seen by the trained eye. It’s not I know female competitors who are tiny. Small waists and limbs yet their weight is higher than you would suspect from their frame. Why? Because muscle is dense therefore you can fit more into a space. Fat however is large and spread out. So if you were to look at 5 lbs of muscle to 5 lbs of fat. The fat looks bigger than the muscle.


I know this yet my mind plays bloody tricks on me! This is due to my mental state not my intelligence, I have a voice recording I saved and it’s not nice to listen to it’s of when I was being abused and all the signs where there I just didn’t know it. Now whenever I feel down I look at all the following listed below. I listen to the recording and remind myself how far I’ve actually come! Not in looks or physical strength but inside my head. If I can break free from that I can sure as hell do this.

Low self esteem

Anxiety

Hyper sensitivity

Confidence

Self worth

No more loathing

Embracing who I am

Forgetting the past

Breaking free.

I have many fears still but these fears are materristic and by all accounts from the women I talk with daily who also compete are completely normal for an amutuer athlete. My show shoes arrived today, straight after I came home from a PT session there where at my door. All new and perfect. I have massive feet for a woman size 8 trotters to be exact and I was worried ( anxiety kicking in again ) that my feet would look like they need oars. But again wheh I asked around most the girls are the same size or some bigger. Phew I was thinking I’m a freak again!

I met a guy once to watch rugby with. He commented on the size of my hands and feet I was mortified, instantly I looked up surgery to make them smaller! I mean really who does that? Why am I bothered about one little man’s opinion of me. I never mentioned the fact he looked like a man but smaller all 4 ft and a fecking fag end of him. I just chose to not say it too him and that is where my point comes from.

People opinions of others should not have such a drastic effect on us but I have chosen to stand on a stage and ask for just that! A complete stranger will look at my body and decide wether or not it’s good enough. The one thing I’m frightened off. So why am I doing this? Am I seeking acceptance, glorification, revenge from those who put me down. Or am I simply just gonna try and see if I can.

That I’m still trying to work out!!!

I saw this yesterday, I commented on his poor behaviour and how disrespectful he was for being so cruel and then I deleted and blocked him, if only blocking those doubts in my head was that simple.

Week One 

Amazingly after a long week at work ( which isn’t finished ) I’ve managed to get through my first week of the cut. 

Working long hours and waking up for training at 05:30 each morning has proved I can’t do both without more carbs in my diet. I was falling asleep around 14:00 each day. 

My coach had a look at my diet and revised it accordingly, I’m not a professional I don’t get paid to do this and I must eat and pay my bills so work is important throughout this transition. Balancing a healthy work/training regime is difficult regardless of job. But mine is not only long hours but also unpredictable I’m currently writing this is bright neon leggings and an old marine jumper ( my friend gave me ) sat at work as I was called in. I literally just stepped in the gym ready to start cardio when I got the call. Luckily for me my boss pays my expenses, a quick uber request and I’m in the city. Although I’m dressed way inappropriately I don’t need to go outside. My boss however did have a chuckle when he saw how bright these bloody trainers and leggings are. 

So the first week. 

The blog is getting some great hits and from all over the world including Iraq, Afghanistan and a little place just off the coast called the Isle of Mann, those hits are purely from persons who aren’t interested in the progression just the content, greetings and a massive thank you to all, I hope you are well. 

As for me well what a roller coaster. I never realised how angry a person can get whilst hungry! Although I’m eating 5 meals a day the meals are monogamous tiny portions of protein, carbs and some fats. My diet has been striped to the bear bones. I can have a cheat meal or re feed once a week, I choose sushi as it’s my favourite. But my biggest suffer and need is for latte! I’ve even resulted in buying latte flavoured protein powered to get the fix I need ( it’s not worked ) 

Meal prep is quite self explanatory. Cook it, weigh it and portion it out freeze what you don’t need for now and remove each evening for the next day. It’s cooking it on the move and getting the times right. So far I’ve eaten the majority of it cold. I’m basically trying to re train my brain into thinking it’s just fuel instead of something nice. 

Emotionally I’m not doing so great, I had a conversation with my coach just yesterday about the need to not look manly… I’m so scared of the look, this goes against everything a woman body builder thinks, however I must go with what I want not what others see. Yes my genetics are perfect for that sort of look. And if I wanted I could with a few years and hard work achieve that sort of physique/body building catergory. But I refuse to do it. I think my words yesterday to my coach was, “if I get told to move up a catergory because I’m too muscular for the one I want, I will simply stop doing this altogether” he’s such a professional instead of trying to convince me like so many others do, he respects my wishes and said “well let’s get you to where you want to be” 

I am under no illusion this process isn’t just one comp, I totally embrace the fact it takes years to develop the catergory I wish to run in.  But with my mental health and low self esteem I’m not prepared to put extra pressure on my self for something I do not want. 

My counsellor sat and listened to me for months and months about how others had effected my thought process. He would drop suttle hints on what to research and google, so that I could find out for myself how I had been groomed into thinking I was worthless. There are many self help lectures and papers I have read over the past 2 years that I can identify with. This isn’t just about the narcissistic element of my life but also early childhood and the trauma from losing Richie. 

Even after all these years not knowing my worth has had a massive impact in my relationship with people. Trying to “keep them happy” had crushed the inner me when in reality if I hadn’t of been so desperate to be loved I would of had the balls to tell them the to fuck off. 

Now I do, I end things very quickly, but that scares me too. My bluntness and almost arrogance isn’t something I like about myself, I wish I could be more trusting with the opposite sex, but I can’t and I don’t mean this in a “is he gonna cheat on me way” I mean ok a what’s his motives? Is he going to act like the blood sucking Narc and use me for what I have until it dries up or is he using me till the better deal comes along? 

In a few days I’m flying out to America to meet my friend who I have been (getting to know) he’s American, a gym goer and more importantly absolutely normal! A rareity man for me I know! After 2 years of the single life and a new rule/decision of mine not to date any ex military or British men. I’ve met a guy a truly like and he understands my thirst for this comp,  bless him he’s organised gym related activities, food prep and really thought about my needs. Wow I know now that’s a first. I almost feel like I need to do something in return but in his words “that’s not why I’m doing it”

I told him recently how I feel about being alone so much and my personal development in getting to know myself again not the person I felt like I had to be to be loved. 

I said ” I don’t run in packs as I feel I’m not safe in them. Whilst I’m alone I know no one is trying to hurt or use me for personal gratification” now for a man who is getting to know me this might be hard pill to swallow. However with his own pma and selflessness he understood that a broken person takes longer to find trust again and with his patience and maturity he understood and for that I am truly grateful! 

Week two will be harder and more challenging a different country harder training and more mental health obstacles to face. I’m getting there and more importantly I’m enjoying the process this isn’t just about standing on a stage this is about finding, accepting and liking the real me. 

Booty gains 

Did she, or didn’t she? 

London is amazing I’ve loved living here I’ve met so many people and enjoyed settling into my flat and finally having a place of my own like I was before. 
So there’s something else, a heartbreaking time. It actually made me ill again but it was short lived ( I use Richie’s death as a datum point for bad circumstances ) as of yet nothing has ever hit that level of pain. I’m not going to give them the publicity they want, so if you wanna know about it google me, There are some articles out there written by an anonymous source. Make your own mind up about it like I’ve said many times before there is always two sides to every story. 

I couldn’t tell you if these people are male or female, names, addresses nothing, I know nothing as they remain anonymous. 

Just recently I met a friend in town, he was attending the annual march for a marine imprisoned for simply doing his job! I arranged to meet him in a bar later as I had some shopping to do. I sat at a table and chatted with some guys and a female I didn’t really know that well. I was working the next day so couldn’t drink that much and those who know me know I don’t drink hardly ever nowadays due to training and I just don’t like being drunk or being around drunk people anymore. Later that night I met up with a guy I consider to be like a brother too me. I love him so much, he’s been my rock and no matter what has happened I will not accept his apology. His act of kindness should never ever be used against him. Regardless of what people think or believe what they read I haven’t told my side of this story. And I won’t not until I can do it in front of a judge! 

Digressing again so I went to a Royal Marine march. Funnily enough I wasn’t allowed to be around those sort of guys before and let’s say by me going there would of proberly wound up a certain individual. Now apparently I was drunk, apparently I was talking to anyone who would listen. This was aired on a social media thread by none other than the narc! Who by all accounts was thousands of miles away. So I went somewhere where I wasn’t allowed to go before, 2 years after we have split up? And of course I was doing wrong again! 
Those patterns I talk about before are quiet obvious when I comes to this man. I spoke with 3 women, the lady I was with, another outside who had a walking stick and my friend who came to see me about CP. I spoke with 5 men the two guys at the table, a guy who is in the same business as me very briefly, my good friend and another guy who gave me his number. My good friend introduced me to one of his friends and I said hello. So apparently whilst I was in the venue I got drunk spoke to everyone in there…..
Whilst outside I saw some guys looking at me then looking at their phones as if they were trying to confirm something. I guess they are friends of the narc maybe, maybe not. Either way for a man who “wants nothing to do with me” he appears to be rather interested in my goings on! Or was it simply the disgusting fat dog being somewhere she shouldn’t be or wasn’t allowed to be whilst we were together. 

The great thing about this story is each time I upset someone they run to the source that wrote the article, like the guy who told me he likes to have his dick sucked by other men and who also has every tell tale sign and trigger of PTSD, so I did my block and delete thing to him. He didn’t like my strength or the fact I’m outspoken, I didn’t like the fact he may be gay or that he has two kids with a 2 month age gap someone’s been a naughty boy! (hence why I removed him out of my life) nothing wrong with gay men but I’m not sharing a bed with one. 

Read the website, decide for yourself. Investigational journalism is normally followed by a source, a name, someone to take credit for their work. Cyber bullying, hear say and the testimony of some bitter people isn’t. I chose not to rise to them anymore, the job I do now and my employer knows everything I make sure I tell people ASAP so that no skeletons later on can raise their heads. As a result of the article some people are followers and some are leaders those who chose to be a sheep fall by the way side those who simply don’t care see it for what it is and remain in my life. I have no worries or qualms which decision people choose. Everyone is entitled to their opinion. 

So here we are, the back story is doneI’ve gone from just under 18 stone to 8 stone, back up to 11 and now I’m sitting at 10 stone 5, my PTSD is under control I can count maybe 3 bad nightmares in the last 6 months all have been related to Richie the narc or the article written. I have a counsellor, I have great friends and family, if I feel like I may have a trigger I use exercise and breathing techniques to deal with it. 

Yes I’ve been known to be in the gym at 3 am after a very bad nightmare but these nightmares don’t change they remain the same so I process the after thoughts accordingly. 

I tend to see Richie’s death a lot, although I was never there when it happened. Apparently this is because I never saw it I made it up in my own head.

My second dream is of hate and anger I’m being screamed at about how disgusting I am, how I repulse, how I would never be worthy of love or happiness. I look in the mirror and my face is distorted and my body is morbidly obese the person behind has the voice of the narc but has no face, he just repeatedly screams abuse at me until I break down. 

The third is the one I can not deal with it takes days to get over, there is a group of people trying to hurt my children they stalk us, they follow us I’m trying to cover my kids with my body but they are pushing and pulling they are trying to get to them but I fight, I fight so hard I’m bleeding my body is covered in scratches and cuts and bruises but they will not get them, they will not touch my kids they can hurt me they can kill me, but I won’t allow them near my babies….

My bulimia is under control I haven’t felt the need to do that for over a year even though I put weight on. I saw the light and what it was and decided to stop being so bloody stupid I do have to still take buscapan and ducolax for my IBS. But the way I eat nowadays my diet is that healthy my IBS hardly ever flares up. 

Body dis morphia well I’m sorry but every flipping person on this planet has some form of it. I’m so surprised how many men suffer with it as well. I’m on a group a group on Facebook called Gym outcasts. There are all sorts of people on their mostly body builders and strong men and women. Every day I see a post about someone’s shape or asking questions about how they can improve. It’s an amazing group there’s no bravado just people coming together to help each other. You do get the odd person who may wish to be a knobhead ( myself included ) I was carb depleted and being awful to someone! I hold my hands up when I’m being a knob so I apologised. But the group is there to help, they have a PHD guy who goes into the science involved in competing to actual competitors or just your average joe who has an abundance of knowledge. Add it if you have facbook, it’s so helpful if your in this kind of business. 

So its New Years Eve, I’ve written the back story. Tomorrow morning is week one day one of the cut,I’m going to go through a whole lot of pain and emotions in the coming weeks I’m going to be grumpy and unbearable. So I’m using this blog to explain my emotions and feelings. I intend to stand on that stage on April the 1st I’m doing this for me, I’m doing this for Richie as he supported me before his death and I would love for him to be proud, I’m doing this because I’m not a fat dog or ugly! I’m also doing this for my 3 beautiful kids, I want them to be proud. 

I loved him, but I was broken too. 


It hit hard no job, I was left with a house to pay for bills everything I was devastated how the fuck had I let this happen to me???? 

Not again I couldn’t take it again. What Richie had done seemed the easy option I missed him I missed his eyes I wanted to be with him. So I walked to the shop bought a few bottles of wine and enough paracetamol to mix with some amatripoline to do the job. No fucking more!

My dad 

The army 

Afghan 

Richie 

And now the Narc,

I’m an idiot every time my life had taken a dive a man was involved in it. No more! 

I woke up on a ward dressed in the clothes I had been in the day before. There was a IV in my arm and I was dying to use the toilet, so I stood instantly and Mu legs gave way instantly I woke up again on the floor. No nurses were around, so I picked myself back up and dragged this stupid drip thing with me, the ward was quiet but there where eyes on me from the other patients it was so surely like a film or something, everyone was looking at me strangely, my head was busting so much pain wtf had I done. As I walked through the corridor I saw a lady in a bed, she looked like my mum. Same hair same shape but she was drugged and looked terrible. 
It was my mum why? Why was she in the same hospital as me? mum, mum, mum what’s wrong are you ok? 
“Claire what have you done”

“Nothing mum, whats wrong with you are you ok?”

“Don’t lie to me Claire why are you in here?”. 

“I don’t know mum I’ve just woke up and I need to pee”

She said come back once your finished as I sat on the toilet I started to remember the pills the alcohol how long had I been asleep what day was it?

What have I done?!

My mum is paralysed she is terminally ill with MS, any stress or illness lands her straight into hospital, but I couldn’t work out what was going on! My head was so fuzzy from the drugs and what ever they were giving me. Mum said I had been found by ambulance men and that I nearly died, she asked if I had done it to myself. I couldn’t tell her the truth I said I didn’t know. I was too embarrassed to admit what I had done. 

I now know what mental state Richie was in when he took his life. 

See when you are in that place you don’t care about anything else other than you want out of the situation, you forget about everything you are leaving behind. Your life your kids your family you just want the pain to stop. You will do anything for it to go away and that is what I had done. 

My life and my past, the PTSD and being abused both physically and mentally by the Narc had finally caught up with me. The strong CJ was gone she was a mess. Apparently the narc had come to the hospital to be by my side but I was screaming at him for having an affair which he still denied and the hospital had thrown him out he was a mess he went back to my sisters house and burst into tears my sister said Claire wouldn’t of done this for no reason, you must of done something to her she had been through so much in her life she must of had had enough. But the narc carried on with his lies!  

My mum had fell ill when she heard the news I had taken an overdose I had made my mum ill what an absolute cunt I was!!!!  
Everything I was angry with Richie for I had done myself. 

The narc was now me 

My kids was Richie’s kids 

My mum was Richie’s mum 

I will never forgive myself for that day and the selfish act I did, but I knew I was ill and needed help. It was time to ask for it. I refused to stay but they made me stay to speak with a cpn, I told her what had gone on and she instantly refered me to a mental health team. My PTSD was out I had no choice to admit it and get the help I needed. Ironically the narc offered to help he stayed with me for some of the meetings but his abuse had landed me here I couldn’t talk about it because he was there lurking making sure I didn’t tell them what he was doing. Showing his true colours wheh I got home from hospital he bathed me but I mentioned his affair he started to get cruel again. The narc left a few days after… I recorded him being abusive and sent it to family and friends his family too. I just wanted him away from me. 

The months after he left I had to build myself up again I received an eviction notice from our house, I had been paying my side of the rent but in true narc fashion. He refused to pay his. I had to move in with my sister and brother in law. That didn’t last long all of 3 weeks. An argument had erupted between them both, I tried to protect my sister and ended up getting stabbed in arm in the process!!! 

I know you can’t make it up can you! After another stay in hospital and a stupid phone call to the narc whilst I was coming down off the anapaestic ( totally broke the no contact rule ) but in my defence I didn’t know where I was. The surgeon had stitched me up and I stayed at my elder sisters house to work out my next move. 

London…. I packed my things my friend offered me a sofa, my mum bought me an old car bless her and I drove to London. Finally away from the Narc, the past and embracing the future. It was the only way to move on. 

The Narc. 


Yep pretty crap a? 
So a lot of people ask how are you still standing? I’m not so sure to be honest! Either I’m built to withstand higher levels of stress or I’m numb to a normal lifestyle. 
So after Richie’s death I went back to Afghan I wasn’t right, I knew I wasn’t. I was trying to keep up this bravado trying to act all hard and “I can do this on my own act”. The common phrase of a swan gliding over the water whilst furiously kicking under would be the easiest way to describe how I was actually coping. 
I was also man hating, now the guys on contract where lovely they were patient and let me be. I again was training like a lunatic, I had to remain slim I had to remain fit. But there was no structure to it. No real intention before I wanted to step on a stage then I wanted to be slim and pretty as I truly believed Richie wouldn’t of killed himself if I was both those things. How selfish of me? The way I looked had nothing to do with his suicide! I had nothing to do with it. Richie was ill he had given up and the say when a person commits suicide their pain is gone. But what they don’t realise is they pass it on to those who love them. Now I had I only known him a short time. It’s his family and children who would feel the pain 100 fold, to my measly 5 minutes I had. 
Like I said I met a man after and in my grief I mixed up “love” to the “wanting to be loved” 

I can’t go into detail of this man but I can tell you that it ended and it ended bad! It lasted less than a year, I lost my home, my job, my confidence, I became fat and most of all I lost my self respect. 
A warning to anyone who falls for someone who ( falls for them quickly ) 

Stop and think!!! 

Why are you being love bombed, why are they eager to settle with you so soon? 
If you google narcissist the explanations are vast. Now the modern day term for a narc is used losely, people who take care of themselves or take selfies are now accused of narcissist tendencies. Bull shit!!! 
Narc’s are sociopaths the feed of empaths people like myself. I like to take care of my man, clothe him, feed him whilst they protect me. That’s the whole point of a man and woman relationship right? 
No let’s just say this person was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I was exhausted, grieving, felt unloved I needed to feel protected and loved. A Narc will see all these needs and project themselves into that perfect man or woman ( not all narc’s are men ) it’s like your own person supply of heroin to an addict. They morph into exactly what you crave and when you are blown away when you are fixated on the perfect being. They crush you back down to a level where you need the fix. If I was good he would reward me if I was bad he would punish. 
Example. 

I went out with a few friends we went out clubbing and I saw some old rugby friends a picture was taken and the picture had a guy with his hands almost cupping my breasts but not touching. My ex Narc had travelled the nightclubs pics to see if I had been photographed and there he found it. He was away at the time and sent me it via a message, yes it looked bad but it was innocent. So if you are angry what does a normal person do? They kick off they yell they slam the phone down. End the relationship? 

Not my ex Narc he skypes me sat at a desk he picks up the exact same type of weapon Richie killed himself with and puts it to his temple. 

“What will people think if another one of your boyfriends kills himself? What will they think you fuvking slag!!! You fat ugly dog, you whore!!!! Do you want me to do it do you?” 

All the while Ive never ever been in such a state! I’m screaming screaming to the top of my lungs for him to stop… begging him begging him not to do that. My body is shaking I’m throwing up in my mouth… please please please don’t. 

He ends the call…… 
I tried for hours to call him back, I sent guys who were on the same contract as him messages to check on him. One did, he was ok his friend said and I quote “you need to understand his ex wife used to do the same ho out and shag blokes, he’s just worried you will do the same” 
Things like these happened so often he had broke me, I was broken I knew I couldn’ti go on anymore. For the record his ex wife did not do the same she too was abused by him like I was. But I chose to ignore her what an idiot I am!!! 
My narc used my past to control me, he used my insecurities to keep me in check and my money to pay his debts. By the time we had split up I didn’t recognise who I was. 
Mentally I was done, physically I was running on empty. Needless to say we split and he moved on to his new supply. Was I upset yes I was devastated! I truly didn’t get over out break up until a year after. Do I care now? Nope! He taught me so many lessons I truly believe he was sent for a reason. Whom ever did needs a swift kick in the balls for it. But it really really helped me with so many life decisions, it truly was a blessing even though the hardest one I’ve ever endured. 
So I’m single and have been for 2 years since we split, I’ve dated guys but as soon as they show any signs of my narc I end it and I end it quick. They are gone never to return! A quick block and deleted of everything and I carry on as normal. Some may say I’m harsh I would say it’s CJ’s self preservation society. 
I finally know my worth…. 

I’m not beautiful 

I’m not young 

I’ve got a terrible past

I have some right annoying traits and lifestyle choices. 

And ultimately I’m a gob shite… 

typical northern bird. Says what she likes and likes what she bloody well says. 

Lasses from Hull are made from strong stuff. I did read an article that stated we are bred like this because our men go out to sea and we are left to act as mothers and fathers. I reckon there is a lot of truth to that. Most Hull lasses are nails and we are proud of it. 
Digressing slightly. After my ex Narc left me with nothing and I mean nothing! I went through a very hard time dealing with a second rejection and an abusive relationship. This is where it gets dark, darker than I’ve ever been. A low so overwhelming and deep I don’t recognise that person within me anymore. Discarded, rejected, used, abused and emotionally wrecked by the hands of a sociopath. Richie’s suicide was fast one minute here one minute gone. The narc however he stuck around roughly less than a mile away. Sucking the life out of his new source. I have no feelings for her none whatsoever. All but one, thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart for removing my misery when I wasn’t strong enough to do so. She removed my drug, I couldn’t, I could not let go of it. However she took it and at first I wanted it back but slowly as the days turned into weeks then months now 2 years, I’ve realised it was the best decision made for me out of my control. 

So if she is reading this ( which I doubt) I want her to know that my pain like Richie’s was left to me, is now hers she may not admit it and be loyal like I was too, but patterns don’t lie it’s just whether you are respectful of yourself will you admit that that green isn’t always greener and more importantly she is welcome to it. 

The photo above was taken weeks after we split some people just see the tattoo which is my favourite of all my ink. If you look at my eyes they tell a different story weeks before I tried to take my own life. 

People come and people go, that’s life. 

My Ex and I split up and for the next 6 months I was single and working away. I didn’t tell anyone on the contract that him and I were over I just kept it to myself. But one day I met a new man whilst I was over there and his name was Richie. 
There’s not much to say about Richie other than the world isn’t the same now he’s gone. Honestly the man was flawless to me such a gentle soul. He made me laugh so much he made everyone feel good about themselves he had such a massive heart and once drunk even funnier. But the light in Richie had somehow depleted his bright shine was dulling day by day, he deserved so much more in life he deserved to be helped. 

Richie was married with 3 young boys, when I met him he said his marriage was over. Now if this is true I’m not so sure now! since his breakup I’ve been called a few choice words, I believe I was the final reason he left his wife but I dont believe it wasn’t on the cards before. Richie worked for the Canadian embassy in Kabul he was one of the private security team out there and had been on the circuit for a few years previous to that he was a LSgt in the Irish guards and had deployed in a few hostile areas Iraq and Afghan. Richie was a gentle giant he loved the army and was proud to have been an infantry solider, he would talk for days about his friends and colleagues he would have a proud smile on his face when remembering the good times. His eyes were the most beautiful colour in the world and his sisters were exactly the same. Richie’s mother and father were divorced he protected his sister to the end. His family where important to him and the relationship he had with them was ruined ( his words ) by his wife and her family. The first day I met Richie was so bizarre I still think about it now. 
I was apart of the CP for the ambassador of the European Union we were travelling to a location but there was a back log of vehicles and the ambo was going to be late. He was a tall man and his personal security was never his worry he had decided to walk to his meeting but this was the green zone and we had procedures for every eventuality I was shot gun. Basically I sat in the back of a vehicle and watched my arcs. My TL gave the order for my to go forward and patrol the ambo in. So little size 8 CJ grabbed her grab bag and M4 rifle and went forward to clear the route whilst the rest of the team secured the ambo. Whilst patrolling a barrier was left down by an ANA solider so I shouted to him to lift it up. The fucker ignored me so I shouted louder he soon moved and raised it allowing my ambo to walk through. As I was being me in the corner of my eye I noticed a massive guy, stood staring at me, at first I wondered what was his fucking problem. So I looked again but then noticed he was looking me up and down. I carried on patrolling secured the ambo into his location and got back into the B6 land cruiser. 
That evening I saw a request on my LinkedIn the face was familiar. It was him! That guy from today. What did he want? So I sent him a message. He replied instantly, I’d asked him if I knew him and he asked whether I was the girl today outside the embassy shouting at the afghan guard. Yep that’s me and so we began talking. 
I met Richie a few days later in HQ ISAF, it’s basically a massive camp with all nations in it we went for a brew and a chat. I was hooked by his kind nature he smoked like a trooper and his accent made me giggle he was from Birmingham and he said Bab a lot. 
After a few days he rang me one night drunk. Now on my contract we weren’t allowed to drink but on his they could. He was saying goodbye to a friend who was leaving and then he decided to ring me. He said he had to tell me something serious and that I was to just listen. Fuck!!! What was it. I got quiet worried. He then went on to say that he really really liked me but didn’t want to scare me off. He said he felt so normal around me and he wanted to be with me? He had only know me a few days but he was so charming and kind, I wanted to get to know him too. He gave me nick names and showered me with gifts. At the end of my rotation I was going home to see my kids but not till later so I decided to stay in Dubai and spend some time with Richie. I arrived a day before him and thought I was being stupid but he turned up and we ended up staying in Dubai for 8 days. It was perfect me him and the beautiful city. I was falling for him big time. One night whilst we slept Richie hadn’t drunk as much as he normally did ( I thought this was a holiday thing ) but I was soon to realise he drank quite a bit. He woke up in the middle of the night in sweats it was pouring off him he made an excuse about it and fell back asleep. Richie was using steroids as well he was a big man 6 ft 4 and weighed around 136 kgs considering I weighed just 60 he was difficult to handle with a drink in him. But he was never abusive he just liked to drink. After Dubai he took me too meet his mother first I was slightly scared as for all I knew she could hate me or blame me for the marriage breaking up. But she was very happy that him and his ex were over. She had nothing good to say about her or her mother apparently the family weren’t very nice and the divide between his family and his wife was pretty fresh. Richie’s mum hated his ex and so did the rest of the family although his sister did not want to meet me as she thought I was the reason for the break up. But as far as I was aware I wasn’t. I did ask Richie if I was and he said no everytime. But a part of me thinks I was, Richie and I set out to start a life together We had got ourselves a little house in Birmingham and the keys were given to us on the 27th of November. All the time we were together his ex was giving him a lot of greif via text or email. But there was still the strange problem off Richie and his sleep I couldn’t help but come to the conclusion when he scared off from attending fireworks night with a few friends and I,  he took sleeping pill after sleeping for 3 days. He would break out in sweats, scream at the top of his voice then it looked like he was coming down of drugs but the tell take signs were there Richard had PTSD. 

Richie’s father is the kindest man I know. He talked me through Richie’s past one night and it all clicked into place Richie would tell me about Iraq and he had a entry and exit wound on his leg plus a large burn on his shoulder. Which to this day I don’t know how he got those injuries. There was talk he had done other work in countries not to be talked about so I will neve  know, Richie talked about how he was a sniper in battalion but they made him go comms and he hated it that’s why he got out. Even as CP he was trying to get to go to Africa as a sniper. His days weren’t done as a lot of CP guys aren’t they are still looking for the buzz but the wars are over. I can’t relate to it as I’ve only been in a few situations and both were nothing compared to what our forces have been through in current times. 
Richie was ill, on our second leave he took me to a log cabin for a few days it was just us and the out doors it was amazing but he slept a lot again as I did too. He had a thing about listening to war music he would get drunk and sit for hours. One night he was that drunk when I tried to get him up for bed he lashed out at me but snapped out of it quickly he thought I was attacking him. I shit myself as he’s a big man. He was so sorry but I kept getting more and more worried. On the 11th of November he got down on one knee and after only 5 and a bit months together he proposed, the ring had set him back a couple of K. I couldn’t believe it. I said yes. I was so happy but really worried for him also why would he jump into something so quick I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him but I also knew I wanted to get him help. One night I woke up to him packing a day sack. 

What are you doing babe? 

Nothing princess just go back to sleep. 

Are you ok? 

Yeah yeah yeah sleep baby girl he said 

So I did. 

When I woke he was gone no where to be seen. I went to see his mum who was in the room next to me. I told her what had happened she looked worried too. We rang him a thousands times still no answer, all his family and I texted him begging for him to explain what was going on but he ignored us all. I was so stressed out I couldn’t work out what was going on. I drove to his dad’s house to see if he could get him to talk but no one could in the end he answered his phone he was in such a state, he said he couldn’t do it anymore and needed to see his kids. His ex and kids lived a few hours away and he had walked to the train station and got on a train to meet his ex in a coffee shop. In his mind was I must see my children before I go back to afghan. I asked him wether him and I were still together and he couldn’t answer! I was mad with him but still to this day Richie and I had never had an argument. If this was his descion then I wasn’t going to stand in the way of a father with his kids so I told him to do what he had to do. I packed the car up and decided to drive to Wales to go see my best friend Fran. That was it my fairy tale romance was over. He had chosen to go back to his wife and I could not and would not be the person to stop 3 boys having their dad. I said good bye to his mum and set of to Wales. Bloody Birmingham in November is chocker the traffic was horrendous I wasn’t even 2 miles away when Richie’s dad called. Do you have Richie’s passport. Yeah I do there in the glove box. He said he needs it to fly back can you drive back with it. Yeah of course I said so I drove back to his mums. His mum said there was no point in me going to Wales now just stay the night and go tomorrow. So I did. His mum and I had a drink that night and she got me drunk on Lithuanian shots ( that stuff is lethal ) I ended up throwing up and she put me to bed. When I woke up in the morning his mum had gone. So with a hang over I went back to bed. At about 11 she rang me to see wether I was still there I said yes. And then Richie called. 

Babe 

Yea 

I love you 

Babe I love you too but what’s going on? 

I’m coming back now mum has picked me up please don’t leave 

Ok I won’t but we need to talk. 

Ok baby I’m sorry I will be back soon. 
Richie walked through the door looking a mess his eyes were red and he looked so upset. He said I looked a mess too “blame your mum she got me drunk” 

What’s going on baby why did you leave. 

Richie told me he had to see his kids he had to say good bye. I didn’t get what he meant as he would see them again next leave but I knew he loved his boys immensely. 

There was a hidden agenda for his ex persisting him she wanted him back and I could understand her frustration her life had fell apart. 

And then he started to cry 

What’s wrong babe why are you crying 

I’m sorry baby 

So sorry I have done something bad. 

I knew straight away, if my husband had left me for another woman and I had the chance to get him back I would of properly done exactly what she did that night. 

He told me he had cheated on me. 

I knew it anyway. 

So I asked if you cheated why are you back here with me? 

He said he instantly regretted it and when he woke up in the morning, got dressed and was getting in the car to come back his ex had slapped him ( I would off as well if I was her ) as in theroy he had used her. 

He said he just wanted to come back to me. His head was all over but he knew who he wanted and could I forgive him. 

My head was spinning he was due to fly back to afghan in a few days and him and I had been through far too much. This leave his PTSD, the log cabin, his ex and confusion. I asked him not to go back he needed to sort himself out first. But he wouldn’t he said he was fine!!! He wasn’t his illness was bad. 
Richie returned back to afghan and I stayed in the Uk to see my kids I flew back a week later. Richie was still bad I knew he took sleeping tablets at night for the nightmares and would drink. But I thought I could save him what I didn’t realise was this rotation was his last. 
When I got back to Afghan normal work presumed. Working for my company could be difficult at times as they were very strict to us. It appeared that all other contracts got away with murder but we were heavily policed. The company had its rules even to the extent that I had the whole contract banned from wearing shorts in the day. Culture differences and the fact my bosses where protecting us. But at the time I thought it was fickle as the delegates walked around in bikinis!!!! 
Either way we were fed, watered and housed the food was horrendous Ali bongo a local afghan was our chef he was alright but his food was fucking terrible. The lads were brilliant, apart from the odd one or two. But that was due to dick measuring contests. I loved our CPS he was hard on me but I knew his heart was in the right place. He just wanted to protect us. I don’t think he approved of Richie but he didn’t get too involved. 
The company allowed me to visit Richie at his embassy and one day I stayed there all day and night as I had no work on that day. His bar had a party on that night I went to his bar but refused alcohol as it just wasent worth losing your job over. At 23:45 I said good bye to Richie and got in my transport to come back we had had a lovely day chilling out watching films seeing his friends and going to the party we even had a picture taken together. 
Everytime I went to sleep I would text him night night and I would chat in the morning. I fell asleep. The next day I was SAP commander so I had a busy day ahead I woke up to a text from him saying 

“I’ve always loved you but I’m broken”

What did he mean so I tried to call him continually no answer, I went to the gym Inbetween missions still no answer! It wasn’t till 19:00 that night I started to panic none of his freinds would answer my calls even messaging them. I could see they were online but nothing. I went to see my friends Danni and Sarah to tell them I was worried. Richie’s best friends wife Kelly had sent me a message asking me if I was ok and I didn’t know what she was talking about I later found out that her husbands ex wife had told the world on Facebook that Richie had been hurt. Sarah said don’t worry we will sort this. I was in a right state there had been no Intel to say an Incident had happened in Kabul so why was he not answering his fucking phone!!!!! 
So I got the number for his company and rang his in country manager. I told him who I was and asked what was going on. Instantly he said he would call me back. No tell me what is going on I was screaming crying in a state my friend Sarah took the phone off me. And then she rang Stef. 10 mins later Stef told Sarah to bring me to the office. 
It was surreal I met one of the management on the stairs he had tears in his eyes and looked awful, My CPS was next I’ve never seen him look like that such a big strong man. All weak and nervous and then I saw thse in country manager he was an ex RSM of the RMP’s Scottish guy such a professional but he was shaking he looked nervous and I knew straight away. 
CJ I’m so sorry to tell you this but Richie has taken his own life. He’s dead!!!! 

My actions after that I’m unsure off I collapsed, I screamed, I cried, I threw up, and the rest is pretty blank Sarah was there I felt safe but I needed my 9 mm glock away from me our management asked me where it was and it was in my grab bag I had dropped on the floor. Please take it away from me. My M4 was locked in my locker back in my room with the rest of my ammunition, arrangements were made to take it all away. I couldn’t look at a pistol. He hugged me tight I needed a big man in my arms just for those few seconds I needed to feel like Richie was hugging me again. Nothing sexual had ever happened between Him and I, he was a family man and I looked up to him like a brother but I really needed his presence right then. 
The rest of the night was a blur, Sarah and Danni were to watch me and to sleep in the room with me. But there was no way I was sleeping. I couldn’t do much but sit and think I called his parents and confirmed it was true. His bitch ex had rang them and not even given them the real story the horrible cow. Because she was down as next of kin his company could not tell me until she had been informed by the UK police. Richie the silly bugger hadn’t changed his next of kin details. 
His poor kids I couldn’t help but think about them, how could he do that to his kids why???? Anything but that. 

Danni was with me but I needed to get away from her so I waited for her to fall asleep and I did one out of my room. The rest of the contract including the gurka guards were briefed on what had happened and in my location ( careful not to give away the security of the compound ) was heavily guarded by Afghan and gurka static guards. My call sign was P5 and I knew I wouldn’t get far before one of them grassed me up to the ops room. Papa 5 papa 5 that’s all I could here on the radios as I walked through the delegation. Inside we had a beautiful garden that I decided to walk through and then sit near the best wifi hot spot so I could speak with family and friends back home. I told my mum and she then rang the rest of my family. My Facebook account was going wild with people sending their condolences. The word had got out pretty quickly and I found it sickening people were asking me what had happened so early. 
I couldn’t answer them so I wrote a status and asked them to leave me alone for a bit whilst I came to terms with this traumatic experience. 
A few minutes later one of the other operators Nado approached me and asked what I was doing outside and I should be in bed. I said I couldn’t think straight so he picked me up and took me to our cookhouse for a brew. He convinced me to lay down in a room below and gave me a tablet to ease my sleep. To this day I still call him rohypnol Nando as the bloody tablet knocked me out. I laid there with the teddy Richie had bought me on leave I called it Dave. That teddy never left my side for almost a year after it was my comfort blanket. 
I only slept for a few hours and when I woke I realised quickly that it wasn’t all a dream and Richie was actually dead. That day I had to pack my kit as the company were flying me home ASAP. Richie’s bosses came to the delegation and it is there I learnt exactly what had happened that night. 
When I left the Canadian embassy Richie ( the cctv told the story ) had gone straight back to his room, at 02:30 he had laid on his bed, took out his glock and shot him self behind the ear he was dead instantly. He was due to be out on mission that morning but hadn’t turned up, his bosses had gone looking for him but his room was looked. Neil one of the guys in his company got the spare key to his room and I can only imagine the sight he was greated by! Poor Neil. 
His body was in that room for hours and no one knew why didn’t they hear the shot? What made him go from happy being with me that day to later suicide. I’ve heard rumours stories and accounts second hand from numerous people and his mum had met up with his ex to find out what part she had in all of this. Apparently she was barraging him with abusive emails and text messages. Richie lost a ball when he was younger due to illness I saw some of her text she would send claiming he wasn’t a man because of it. She was a nasty bitch. The first time him and I got it on he said do you noticed I only have one ball? To my reply ” well yeah I can count” he pissed himself laughing and says only you would come out with that. So what one ball two balls! 

She had taken photos of Richie in the act of sex and was going to post them all over the Internet she was blackmailing him he wasn’t allowed to see his children either. With his current state of mind and the abuse from his ex I believe he took his own life due to stress and PTSD. 

And that bitch will have to live with that for the rest of her life, she may not of pulled the trigger but she certainly had a lot to do with it!!!! And if her boys approach me in years to come I will tell them exactly that. There are many men who have taken their lives due to PTSD and when you investigate the stories there is normally a nasty ex misses behind their stress. Men aren’t angels and Richie should of had closure with his ex before we got into a relationship. But to be one of the reasons that they feel they can’t go on anymore, well fucking shame on you you can explain to your sons why they no longer have a father you horrible nasty cow! 
For the next month I had to sort out my life and help with Richie’s funeral arrangements his poor parents and sister where devastated. His father such a lovely man was broken. His mum had become angry and his sister a shadow of her former self. I had moved into our house and decided to get on with sorting that out to try and keep myself busy. I was suffering bad my sleep was the worst effected I would wake up in cold sweats screaming out and night terrors were taking there hold on my body. I carried on training and I trained hard. I did a mile and a half route I had plotted out I ran as fast as I could I didn’t feel anything but anger I just felt I’m gonna get the best time ever, I stopped my stop watch at 08:02! I was 35 and had never got below 9 in my life. I wasn’t even out of breathe. I decided to see if my run times were effected as I ran each morning I could feel my fitness becoming stronger and better although j wasn’t sleeping I was still training my fucking heart out sometimes 3 times a day. I start off with a 6 to 8 mile run. Then a small breakfast followed by laxatives. Gym again to train weights more food more laxatives then gym again in the evening for cardio then more laxatives. Within a couple of weeks I was down to a size 6 waist and weighed around 8 1/2 stone. I was wasting away. 
In my head he had killed himself because I was fat and ugly. I thought that if I lost weight and sorted my face out he would come back. Why I felt like that I’m not sure but I can’t remember most of the month. It was close to X mas and I refused to go home I stayed in my house in Birmingham and only went out to train or go see Richie’s dad. My mum begged me to come home. My relationship with Richie’s mum was failing, she had become more and more angry and I felt that she somehow blamed me for Richie’s death. She is a grieving mum and I knew I had to walk away from her. But I was stuck in that house until the lease was up in the June. I was a recluse I didn’t want to see anyone one morning I woke up to a knock st my door it was my sister and her boyfriend they had come to get me!!!! 
My sister went on and on about my weight and how I had no food in the house she was mad her boyfriend was doing his usual cracking jokes and making me feel better. I liked him he was an absolute nutter but he was good to my sister, for the first time ever she had found a decent boyfriend. They made me pack a bag and drove me back up to Hull. Whilst I was there I was useless I hardly spoke and just cried a lot it was X mas and I was ruining it for everyone. I had so much to sort out I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t even talk to my own children. The nightmares were getting worst and one night I had screamed that bad I scared my own niece she wouldn’t sleep in the same room as me. My nightmares were taking over my life. The same images in my head Richie’s body laid in the coffin with both the wounds stitched together his eye socket sunken and make up on his face from the undertakers that was not Richie!!!!  
I never wanted to view his body but the family went and I felt I had too. That image is imprinted in my brain. I hear a shot I see him die I then see his body and the rest is history every night every fucking night. I’ve been close to a few bangs in afghan before and after his death and that still doesn’t bother me. Seeing my sisters covered in blood with her cheek hanging off after she was run over, seeing my dad and grandad bodies but still nothing. Richie’s suicide was taking an effect on my health and I couldn’t think straight. Things from my past were creeping up on me and I started to think why am I here? Should I just join him? Maybe it’s easier to just do that then deal with life!!! 
I had to get X mas over first, once that was done I could bury him and start to piece my life back together. X mas Eve I spent with my sister and her boyfriend. 
Before I went back to afghan I had to have medical tests organised via my company. This is usual practice when an operator had been through a very traumatic experience and the most check that my mental health was ok to return. It took ages to sort out and I was starting to worry that I wouldn’t be going back and I needed my job! I even kicked off one night and started shouting at the ceiling blaming Richie for ruining my life. It was the first time I had got angry with him. But there was still a big question in my head why????? Why do that? he could of got help he could of asked…. I needed answers but didn’t have the person to talk with to get them. 
Before Richie died I was training to compete he was extremely supportive and loved the fact I was dedicated. But after his death I lost all desire. I lost weight, I lost muscle and I lost who I was. Grieving and alone my own mental health deteriorated I had then been diagnosed with the same mind terrifying disorder that had taken Richie life. 
I was diagnosed with complex PTSD, with low self esteem, body dis morphia and my bulimia I felt like I was spuring out of control. What made matters worse… I met another man. This man was and to this day is a narcissist, he has his band of merry flying monkeys ( term used for persons who he uses to manipulate, corrupt and do his dirty work for him ) ready to deploy at anytime. I choose to not speak of him right now. Although soon I can and soon I will. 

Weigh in 

Ok I need to get something straight before I carry on. I I left school at 15, to be honest I don’t even have a GCSE, never mind a degree! I left my studies late and only ever started to make an effort with education when I left the military. I do however have experience and life skills, so if my grammar, punctuation or spelling isn’t up to speed I can only apologise. The fact remains if I did have those credentials I really don’t think I’d be writing this somehow, I would of proberly done a lot better in life. Well I didn’t I did this and this is me. So moving on …. 
18 stone at 5 ft 7….. 
No too shabby! 
8 stone is a fair whack of timber to lose, I have met a few girls in the past who had achieved it and a few guys too. They all lost around 5-6 stone but 8 stone! how would I manage that? Is it attainable? 
What about skin afterwards? Would I turn myself into a deflated bouncing castle? 

Looking at some of the biggest loser contestants I thought long and hard that the possibility was there and then what? how much money would I have to fork out to have myself turned into a patchwork quilt? 

Brilliant can’t wait for that! 
Like I said before I was a British soldier for almost 16 years, I’ve always been into sport and even though I wasn’t skinny in the military I could still shift for a fat lass. So I had a basic understanding of how the body works and what to do to combat the excess skin and Google is an amazing tool. 
The first weigh in I was so nervous I was shaking like a shitting dog. 
What if I haven’t lost? 

What if I’ve gained? 

What if I’m stuck in this oversized shell of misery for the rest of my life? 
I was all over that plan like I’m all over cake… I was rigid, even though it says don’t weigh your food I still did. I kept everything to a minimum nothing shite passed my lips. 
The meat scales were upon me. I decided to wear the same clothes as the week before.  

drum roll please. 
17 stone 8 to….. 

17 stone 1/2 lbs 
Jesus Christ I had lost over half a stone in a week. Now I read somewhere that it’s mostly water you lose first. Errrrrr that’s a negative ghost rider I didn’t drink water. Full fat coke for this call sign maybe 2 bottles a day. 
Wow I was so happy and the group where amazed. Some jealous cow had to put the “all big girls lose a lot in the first week” 

So In true CJ comebacks I said. 

“So you should do just as well today then?” the fact I knew she had been on the plan since 1982 ( slight exaggeration ) I thought fuck you. Don’t piss on my chips!!! 
I drove home with a smile on my face and I couldn’t wait to tell my Ex husband all about it. Strangely he wasn’t that interested and said let’s see what happens next week….. 
Ok knobhead alert…. he was a jealous man but alarm bells started to ring. He’s not gonna like this is he? Unlucky ducky I’m on one now. Let’s see how far I can push it. So week after week the lbs were dropping off they had a saying in the group 
Lose 

Gain or 

Maintain. 
I only ever lost, the most I lost was the initial 7 1/2 lbs and the least was 3 lbs.
I was literally on fire, week after week gaining certificate’s slimmer of the week, 10% and slimmer of the month. My knee stopped hurting, my skin was clearing up, I felt more energy and my confidence was gaining momentum. But my ex husband was getting more and more difficult to live with. He did not support me one bit. I cooked meals for him he would eat them, then have a pizza in front of me later on. He never tried to force me to eat shit, but he never was happy when I came home with great losses either. I got the feeling my new confidence was upsetting other people too. A few friends deleted me off social media one explained is was simply she was so upset about her own weight I was making her jealous. At first I was pissed off but now I understand why she was hurt it must of been so upsetting for her. 
Another person I choose not to name ( not with fear ) just the fact she means nothing to me! I class her as scum, a parasite, a bully someone who for all the years I’ve know her, I never really liked her. When I first met her she was that drunk she put a fag out in my drink and was just crude. You know the type just foul most people around her slagged her off or had choice words I used to try to defend her why? I’m not so sure now I saw a very upset girl who lashed out on people through her own pain. But her jealously was evident we would sometimes be mistaken for each other sadly for her she would be mistaken for my bad and I for her good. She rose her head recently and managed to involve her family in some sort of hate group against me, yes her husband messaged me and no I did nothing with it, I always invite her to have a read, I suppose it’s heartbreaking when your ex hates you as much as the majority. Needless to say we did look similar, both over weight, both blonde and both in the same job. Although she paid for weight loss surgery and lost an amazing 10 stone I think. ( don’t quote me but I knew she was that little bit bigger than I was ) she had achieved similar results to me. Although I believe Weight loss surgery is cheating but I suppose someone who isn’t as determined as others and chooses the easy option might be slightly jealous over another persons success, but who am I to judge?

Either way we both got the results that we craved for ( although I hear she may of gained again ) 
After the first 3 stone loss which took me less than a month and a half! I decided to hit the gym. The doctor confirmed that my diabetes was gone! Wow I actually made myself better by losing weight.
I started to run only short distances a mile in a morning and then into the gym at night for weights, light weights high reps. After a month I was running anything from 6 to 10 miles a day, I knew I had to tighten my skin back up and that was the way to do it a combination of cardio and weights, I focussed on the areas where I held the weight so my arms and stomach. My legs have always been slim even as a fatty…. it’s weird how the body works I was the only 18 stone lass with no arse! 
The PT ( physical training ) was hard and I knew I had to work harder to achieve the results I wanted. More cardio in the morning followed by weights at night. I got myself into a routine. Funnily enough I’m in the same one still and will be all the way up to stepping on that stage in April. 
By around December 2012 my work life changed considerably. I had gained a contract to go work in a hostile environment and so I would be leaving the UK to work abroad. I was still training hard and the weight had gone. 8 stone melted away and I had done it in around 6-7 months. Some tweaking was still needed but I had lost what I set out to achieve. 
I felt fantastic, my ex however was not so happy. Now there are a few things they don’t tell you about huge weight loss 
1, The skin 

2, Loss of breasts 

3, Jealously.  

4, Loss of friends. 
Some say “you have changed” well of course we do! I’m almost half the size of who I was. Those feelings of worthlessness have gone! I’m feeling happy in my own skin I’m confident I feel sexy I feel self worth!!!

But some don’t like that, they want to push you back down back to the hole you hid in! 
My marriage would never of survived. I left for Afghan and knew when I came home I would tell him it was over. I couldn’t deal with his jealous rages or constant accusations. Now my ex husband is not a bad person. I will never blame him for how he reacted, like me this was new and he didn’t know how to deal with it. I asked him to stop it, he had no reason to worry but he couldn’t so I ended us before it got too much. No kids just a clean break. He is a lovely person and he’s happy with someone else now. So my conscious is clear. 
Off to Afghan I went.. 2 months in Afghan 1 month in the Uk that was my rotation. But there was a massive problem. The food was terrible, with my allergies and stomach problems I knew I was going to struggle. I was so scared to put weight back on I did something I told myself years ago I wouldn’t do again. I started to take laxatives again, now if you know afghan you will know the toilets aren’t Harrods standard of cleanliness. I had to time my tablets just right so I wouldn’t get caught out. After a few weeks I had it sorted. I drank only protein shakes and kept my food intake to a bear minimum. What an idiot! With the warm weather and work load plus gyming it twice a day. I was putting myself back into bulimia and I was prepared to do it. 
Stupid stupid girl. Why? Was it worth it? Nope I was ill a lot, dizzy most the time and emotional, angry almost. People just pissed 

me off. But I was hangry a term used by body builders who have to portion their intake before competition prep. Now I had decided to do a comp and I was in the process of training for it. It there was one last thing I needed to do before I started the long journey to standing on a stage in a bikini. Something I had never done is wear a bikini but I wanted to do it once just to show my hard work. But I had no breasts anymore when I was a slim girl I had none it was only once I got fat that I developed fat girl boobs. Once the fat had gone I was left with two saggy bits of skin… so with the new boobs and a massive confidence boost I waited to heal before I began training to compete in a transformation category. 

The picture below on the left was taken as I started to the train for comp in Afghanistan. 8 weeks later is my progress  after my surgery.