Words of warning and welcome:

This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. Obviously it started out as a blog about my cross-dressing but it has developed a great deal since then. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the New Readers' Page above this and the tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Saturday, 5 April 2014

Fats and Sports

Today's posting from the depths of my brain will be focussing very much on my current weight gain issues (I know, I know, hardly an issue but a stone in three months is slightly perturbing - I am starting from a low ebb) and the means I have chosen to combat this (exercise, it's not like I'm eating any more than I was this time last year, I'm just less stressed).


However, as if to prove that sports are bad for you my weekly prancing about trying to play football has resulted in my ankle getting buggered. So I'm resting up and being a bit shit at helping around the house. Given that we have company later today this is doubly annoying. I know I'm lazy most of the time but this enforced sitting about does rather show up how little I normally do.


Finally, there may be yet more TMI, hence my line break here. In truth, I've probably said everything you want to know right here already.




Still better than me and she wears
nicer heels than I own.
Damn.
On Friday, whilst being ineffective at my weekly football meet I managed to get my foot into the path of a shot by a pretty good player that was on goal. He had cannoned it somewhat harder and faster than I was expecting (my lack of accuracy meant that I was in the right place to intercept this and would have missed a much slower and less hard shot). It pretty much tore my foot into an odd direction. I managed to stop the shot on target but was then in pain. However, I managed to get my foot functioning enough to continue playing for the rest of the hour or so. That was fine. During the course of the game I failed on basic football points maybe a dozen times that I noticed and failed to make an open goal (my right foot sort of failed to make a decent shot with the ball). My right foot was also stood on twice, unusually, and smacked into at least three times by more hard shots when I was tackling ineffectually. Driving home was... not easy, and then when I arrived it became clear that it was more wounded than I realised.

Tilly found it vaguely funny that I was reduced to such a hobble but also was irritated as we had company coming over and she needed me to do the shopping. Unable even to sit at the dining table to mark I was reduced to sitting with my foot up at the sofa. I took an early night, despite having spent the day thinking about Tilly and what I cold do to be romantic, and it wasn't much fixed this morning. Meantime, Tilly had managed to download a whole bunch of Trojans because of her learned helplessness with downloading things from the internet and came to bed grumpy, tired and ratty. We had a brief discussion and then we went to sleep. Well, no, I went to sleep, I have no idea what Tilly did.

No, she's not.
At 5.45 this morning, Tilly woke and got ready to shop. This is after I was forced to crawl upstairs last night and wasn't much better this morning. I'd say it was humiliating, but it wasn't, just irritating. Because I'm not good at being out of action (I despise pain-killers and the like) and can't help around the house and Tilly got up early to go shopping there isn't much sympathy. Mainly Tilly gets irritated with my inability to do anything, she gets the pain-killers and the like, and irritable generally so there's no physical contact. It's not unusual in this situation to have Tilly dismissively tell me off for moving and then rant for twenty or so minutes on how much needs to be done and how I can't do it and how she's not angry at me (this gets mentioned a lot, methinks the lady doth protest too much) but it all needs to be done.


It ain't sexy when a man does it!
At the same time, I'm getting fat. I really am. I have never had this problem before. I have maintained a consistent weight of 10st 2 (so 142lbs) since I was about 16. There has been some fluctuation but I generally return to this weight. I think I went as low as 9st in the dark days of the first years of this blog (126lbs) but not for very long. Well, now, I'm 11st 6 (160lbs). This is somewhat humiliating I suppose. Worse is the fact that not only does Tilly agree but she says that it's my own fault and I either eat less (she is unaware of my skipping breakfast most mornings) or get used to the idea that I will be fat. I worried to her that I was gaining man boobs and a belly and she laughed and confirmed that I was. Thanks. Maybe that's a good thing? I don't know. I know that when she got worried about her weight she was grateful for my not drawing attention to it and not joining in on the self-hate. I keep forgetting that this doesn't get reciprocated. Mind you, being bright and breezy about things generally gets met with insults too, as it wouldn't do my ego any good otherwise.

More the other 365 days of the year...
Can't imagine any of the other three.
I guess I'm kinda 'meh'. Angry at self for fucking up my ankle and thus being completely useless this weekend (I had planned to go on a pub crawl with a mate of mine this evening) and slightly melancholic that I can't initiate physicality with Tilly - as per usual. Oh, like anything's new in this. I'd happily settle for helping her masturbate (and she has said she does this) at present. She tings even the thought of such a thing is disgusting and demeaning (as of the last time it came up in discussion about six months back). Demeaning to who was never fully explained. And disgusting? Does that count as an issue? My inability to finish the job back in Oxford was enough for her to demand I see someone about it, because I might be finding sex dirty and that was bad, but times have changed since then. How they've changed.

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