A death in the family and the birth of a master plan...

Some events in life act as catalysts for major change - a big birthday, a death in the family, moving house, changing jobs - and I've managed to experience all of those within a couple of months. I figure this blog will give me a chance to order my thoughts, or at least give me something to do on the dark Winter evenings and make me forget for a while that I'm single and in my 40s.

The death I refer to was that of Arthur, my rabbit. And I don't mean the furry kind you keep in a hutch, I mean the purple kind that lived in my bedside drawer. He died of exhaustion. The little candle of his life was snuffed out by excessive burrowing. What is entirely more worrying is the fact that it's the second such death in a year. If I carry on this way, I may get reported to the Humane Society. My mug shot will be on the walls of RSPCA offices all over the country, under the legend "Most Wanted". Ann Summers will refuse to serve me on grounds of animal cruelty. I may be banned from keeping rabbits in the future. Plus, a conviction for mugging old grannies for battery money does not look good on the CV. There has to be a better way to live than rabbit worrying. The answer is simple...I have to give up this mechanical addiction...I NEED A REAL MAN.

Add to this that I always find birthdays difficult, especially those since I hit the big 4-0. When your achievements don’t match your aspirations, it makes you think. Could I have been more? Did I waste my life? Have I blown it?

On milestone days like today - life laundry days I call them - doors open, doors to secret rooms in your mind where you crammed in all the bad memories and disappointments like undone washing. And it all tumbles out, dirty and stinking, taking your breath away as if it were not really weeks or months or years ago, but only yesterday.

So I resign myself to a day of reflection. I know it is time that my dirty laundry is washed, aired and put away clean, for once and for all. Today is the day I will come up with my master plan, my Mission Statement…How To Fix My Life.

But what's wrong with my life, I hear you ask, the audience I fondly (and probably insanely) imagine hanging on my every word in cyberspace?

What needs fixing?

Well, the first thing you should know about me is that I’m fat. Buxom. Voluptuous. Cuddly. Rubenesque. I’ve made peace with who I am – well most days anyway. Some days though, I still feel like there’s a thin girl inside of me trying to get out. I know I shouldn’t have eaten her, but I was so hungry. Should I try to learn to be happy that I am pushing maximum density? Or should the fact that I 'm likely to influence the tides give me cause for concern?

This state of affairs makes the first phase of my Master Plan (REPLACE THE RABBIT WITH REAL MANFLESH) slightly more challenging. In the real world, the acres of soft, perfumed flesh I euphemistically term my "curves" tend to render me invisible to the opposite sex. What I need is to be able to reel them in, hit them with my smarts, practice my Uber-flirting techniques, and THEN when they are fascinated and salivating, quietly slip in a mention that yes, I'm a size Zero....erm (with a two in front)...and this means....the Internet!

Secondly...I've just moved 200 miles north because of my job, and I know no one in the area, so I'm Wilhemina NoMates. So phase two dovetails a little with phase one...(FIND SOME FRIENDS)

This all seems like something of an uphill struggle - and as a fat girl, I don't do uphill...or struggling.