Guilty Pleasures....

Friday 6 September 2013

Doctor says to me recently, 'Faye you are so lucky not to have the lupus butterfly rash on your face.' 
I replied through gritted teeth, 'Yep! I'm soooo lucky to have lupus but not the rash. Lupus is wonderful.'

What I should have said is, 'And YOU'RE so lucky I don't throat punch you.'

Don't you just love doctors? I could dedicate a blog solely to the idiotic things doctors say.

For those non-lupies who aren't aware, the lupus butterfly rash (or Malar Rash) is a very common symptom of Lupus and is a rash across the nose and cheeks that can resemble the outline of a butterfly.  I think about 80% of people with Lupus have it during a flare up or at some point in their lupus life.  I guess I am fortunate not to have it but at the same time I suffer like hell so wouldn't really count myself as lucky.

Anyway so yesterday started off good then went from bad to worse. The day turned on me like some kind of evil traitor.  By 8pm I was knackered and felt like the walking dead. By 9pm I was ready to commit suicide. Ok, maybe not that bad but I felt pretty dire. 

After dinner I felt really sick, like to the point where my mouth was watering; my body was preparing itself for vomiting... I was trying to watch New Girl but all I could think was 'I need to puke. I need to puke. I need to puke' I think I eat too fast because I was so hungry. And I won't lie, I am greedy.  When the sick feeling finally subsided I began to ache and the aching progressed into quite severe muscle and joint pain until I was unable to straighten my arms out. I was in agony but s'my fault for over-doing it - you'd think I'd learn by now wouldn't you? Nope. I did so much housework and I shouldn't have. Naughty Faye. Clean things make me happy though, dust and dirt makes me sad. Poor Faye. 

Today I am feeling quite awful (muscles are burning, I feel so stiff its like rigor mortis is setting in and I'm soooo, so, so tired. Maybe I am actually dead) so I shall therefore mostly be doing Jack Diddly Squit - I've only been out of bed for 2 days this week! I am going to relax allllll day long with chocolate and daytime TV. Although, I really can't stand the amateur hosts/TV presenters daytime TV chunders out.  Where do they find these halfwits?

Oh gosh, there's a new programme on at the moment with Jane McDonald or Jane McHair as I like to call her (have you seen the hairstyles on it? Wow. I want to ask her if she's aware the 1960's puked up on her head) well she goes around to different work places surprising employees (who have been selected by their boss) with a makeover and slap-up meal. Nice idea but its absolute junk. Firstly, Jane McHair is seriously lacking charisma and secondly, what about the other poor sods in the office who weren't chosen? Talk about cause beef in the office. I feel sorry for the sados who didn't quite make the cut whilst Betty O'Igivethebossblowjobs gets picked and has a lovely day off.  
It winds me up, yet I've watched it 3 times this week. I just can't keep my eyes off Jane's head. If you don't know who she is here is a pic for you:

This is my life now; Lupus flare ups and trying to dodge the worst daytime TV shows, or watching them and ripping the shit out of them. 

Dinner Date is another fave one of mine to rip the shite out of (in between all the cringing and hiding behind my hands). If you've never seen it, I suggest you watch it. Its hilarious - not because its supposed to be though. Its basically about 3 desperate people (either desperate to be on TV, desperate for a shag or desperate for a life partner. Or all of the above) who cook dinner for 1 person (this person goes to all 3 people's homes for a dinner date. The cooks try to impress their date in order to be chosen to go to a posh restaurant for the next date where the women all obviously want a husband to fertilise their depleting eggs and the men just want to get their leg over.  
Amidst all the desperation you also have a nice mix of awkward silences, kitchen novices and cringe worthy flirting. Amazing. Even Sami watches it and takes the piss with me. He never watches 'girly' programmes but this one is an exception. 

So, those are my guilty pleasures. As well as shitey magazines with stories like 'I grew a new head and it gave birth.' I also secretly enjoy buying expensive make-up I don't need that won't, despite what it says, give me a new face and eating cheese straight from the packet. On its own. No crackers, bread, nothing. Just a lump of cheese. Oooh and I enjoy cereal for dinner sometimes.

So I'm not sure where I was going with any of this? I've just ended up going off on a bit of a tangent...erm yeah so today I'm going to watch and read shite, avoid McHair if I can and try and refrain from buying Chanel foundation that claims to be a face transplant in a bottle. 

I might just go into a pain killer haze and that way I won't care what's on TV. Maybe I should take painkillers in order to stomach the daytime bile inducing poppycock? Either way we'll all be winners. #winning

Now, where did I leave my tramadol?