Thank you Anna Smith

For women with Endometriosis, living life as normally as possible is a struggle. With chronic pain so severe and heavy irregular periods, it is easy for life to get us down.

After I’ve had a sucky time and I am over the initial trauma of an appointment, diagnosis, surgery- I try to find something about it to laugh at. I know I shouldn’t, illness is serious but I regularly use this as a coping mechanism and make light of my illness.

Humour can be as uplifting as opioids if you use it properly.

And so, this is the first of many LOL moments, coming up on my blog. Be assured- I will spare no details, no matter how embarrassing, and hope to hell you don’t judge me. Enjoy


Last week, on a grey morning, I woke up with a sad feeling. I was grumpy and just couldn’t brush it off. There’s no point in dressing this up as something else. I was mardy and tired and feeling sorry for myself. So I tried my cure-all, feel better Go-To’s:

  • I had a cup of tea and dunker biscuits in bed- No
  • I watched the original Ghostbusters film (Bill Murray is a sure way to make me smile)- Nope
  • I had a scolding hot bath with a Lush bath bomb, I soaked until I was pruney & short of breath from the steam- Nothing

With a determination I’d not seen in weeks, I got out of the bath and dressed quickly. Trying to put socks on and hold my phone to my ear is not easy and, being clumsy like I am, I stumbled more than once as I waited for my mum to answer her phone.

“Mum, it’s me – Yeah, no, I’m fine – I need you to come get me – Soon, like 10 minutes? – We’re going to town, to King’s – I need to buy a bag.”

As you can see, this needed action. This mood had to do one. And in order for that to happen, I needed a handbag. Needless to say, my mum (being the treasure that she is) dropped everything.

Me and mum went to a local boutique-with-café in my town and I immediately headed for the bag section. Usually, it is chocka with homeware and ornaments- things that I’d break just looking at them. But at this time, the owners were making way for their Christmas stock. That in itself is exciting! It’s like a frigging grotto in their every Christmas, soon be time to put my tree up! This lightened my mood considerably and I’d not set my sights on a single bag yet.

I found one. She’s an Anna Smith tote. I carried her around the shop like a small baby while I browsed. I held her in my lap as I waited for coffee. I paid £42 for her and that is money-well-spent as far as I’m concerned!
There is nothing more satisfying for a bag-lover, than transferring your things out of your old bag and into a new one. Filling all the pockets with my stuff, forgetting that in a month everything will be dumped in and I’ll have to wade through a pile of old receipts and wrappers and leaflets.

Girls, I needed this bag. Not only to make me feel better, but since I now have to take a ton of stuff with me everywhere I go- I need a bigger, hardier bag. Obviously I have all the usual suspects: purse, keys, glasses, pen, notebook, diary, gum, perfume/deodorant. But now that I have the reproductive system with a mind of its own I also have to carry: about 3000 pads, a heat pad, spare knickers, and a small pouch of pain meds (which I’m sure would get me arrested if I was searched by police!)

I can fit all of my baggage into this tote bag. Just call me Mary Poppins.

It can be hard being a girl. But it’s a nightmare being a girl with Endometriosis.

So we deserve handbags. Thank you Anna Smith.



“Just rip it off!”

There is nothing more horrifying for a young girl than going shopping with friends, sisters, boyfriends, whoever! And realising that not only are you a size bigger (or smaller!) than you once were. Standing in the changing rooms, breathing in, sucking everything in until passing out is an actual possibility. I have never been one for worrying what size I am, as long as I feel healthy, and to be honest it’s been a long time since I’ve felt normal nevermind healthy! So off we go- clothes shopping.

There were two traumas during this shopping trip; I have misplaced some boobs somewhere, dropping 2 cup sizes. I also got stuck in a dress!


I have repeated myself because I just want that statement to sink in for a moment… picture it.

Wandering around the shops, grabbing a dress or two, heading over to the changing rooms, I’m full of smiles. Loving the dress I’d found, I dragged my little sister into the changing room. The size 12 I picked up was so skin tight my sister had to push parts of me in just to pull it down!

Not worrying too much I attempted to get it off. “Eh?! So what if I have to get the next size up? I love this dress” 

I couldn’t get it off. I was literally stuck in this dress. I’m giggling and laughing, saying pull and push, this way and that way and it still wouldn’t budge. My sister is yelling at me without shouting (it’s kind of a yelling voice but in hush tones for those that have never done this!) telling me to try and bend over so she can pull it over my head, I’m thinking if I bend, the seam of this dress is going to go and my ass is gonna be out of the thing! I then got really hot all of a sudden as a feeling of extreme claustrophobia overcomes me, panicking “just rip it off, get it off me!”

Finally, using the “PIVOT!” method, I was out of the friggin’ thing.

I was hysterical. Hysterically laughing. We were laughing so much.

Standing in my underwear I then wait for my sister to bring me the next size up. A quick knock and she comes strolling in, with this leading statement: “The 12 was way too small, so I got a 16.” My jaw hit the floor, tongue rolled out, eyes wide. 16?! The size 16 wasn’t much better, giggling to each other and giving up, my sister and I decided to look at shoes. I’m always the same size in shoes!

To jump from a size 12 to a size 16 in 10 minutes is every woman’s nightmare. Or so I thought?

Recently, I have found it hard to laugh. I have found it hard to be positive- especially about my body. Not so much body image but resentful that my body hates itself and gives me chronic pain. And so, this ‘stuck in a dress-gate’ was just what I needed! I needed to laugh. Not only were me and my sister laughing, but apparently the rest of the ladies in the other changing cubicles had a good chuckle about it as well.

The design of the dress, the fabric it’s made out of obviously doesn’t suit curvy women; and I’m sticking to that statement.

So traumatic it could have been, but at least I made myself and other ladies smile for 5 minutes.
I hope this made you smile, just a little.


Little 16

A xo