No your eyes are not deceiving you – it is I, Sophie Fox. Messing up your timeline with the kind of self-obsessed drivel that makes Donald Trump sound like the Dalai Lama.
Happy Christmas, Winter Solstice, Hannukah, New Year, Dry January, and Pancake Tuesday.
I have decided to start writing again. Mainly because my dad keeps bugging me about it but also, I feel like you, Dear Reader, were so welcoming to me nearly two years ago and I am not repaying the favour. It is the equivalent of bringing round a bottle of cheap plonk to a dinner party and then drinking the Verve Cliquot someone else brought.
I would never do that btw…
It is a bit difficult to know where to start seen as it has been an age. Oh all is well on the cervical front I’m sure you will be thrilled to hear! My mum, on the other hand, was not so keen that I wrote that one but hey ho.
I’m old now. So old that this morning I found a clump of grey hair on my head. A clump. It’s a weird feeling noticing your first grey hair in your room at your parents’ house. It sort of emphasised how long I have lived here and that I should probably move out soon.
Anyway, I managed to lose a crap load of weight for my birthday and spent the night dressed like a Power Ranger as any sensible adult would only to stop dieting the second I turned 30.
I’m no expert but when the lady at Overeaters Anonymous has to use both hands to count the number of pounds you put on, it says a lot, and not just about how rubbish she is at mental arithmetic.
So yes I am back at Fat Fighters. I’m not very good though. I know I should stay for the meeting (or Chip Chat as I like to call it) but most of the time I have had to do No Food Thursday so if I don’t eat I am in danger of collapsing under the weight of my own bones.
That’s a slight exaggeration, one day without food won’t kill me but I’d rather not take that chance.
I have to get motivated to lose weight because I have three, yes three, ice skating competitions coming up. On in Paris, one in Germany and then the British in the ever glamorous Sheffield. Turns out it is a lot easier to lift off the ice if you don’t weight as much. Plus I’ve made a huge deal of losing weight and I don’t want to end up like Claire from Steps who has to do a new weight loss DVD every year.
Another huge thing is that I am allegedly running a marathon. Ugh I can’t believe I even signed up for it. Good news is I have pulled a muscle in my groin (no jokes please) and I am secretly hoping that it will get me out of it. I’ll keep you updated.
Now I know what you all want to know is whether I have met the man of my dreams.
No, I most definitely have not. Unless by “man” you mean “cupcake” – then yes I have met the cupcake of my dreams (see above re weight gain).
I have had some rather interesting experiences on Tinder which I feel I must share with you. Let this be a warning for those of you looking to date in the online world. Think of me as your personal Tinder Tester, a sort of romantic lab rat if you will.
I have installed and uninstalled Tinder more times than I can remember. This most recent time was going well. I was feeling positive. I was only matching with people I actually thought were ok. Turns out my instincts were not always as good as I thought.
Take The Doctor. I won’t use his real name for reasons that will become apparent but if you are a girl on Tinder you will know him as the GP who looks pretty handsome and is 5ft 7 inches tall.
So he is from somewhere down south and yet I managed to match with him in Manchester. He sent a message and just casual chit chat and it all seemed to be going okay. I had no burning desire to meet up with him nor did I feel like I would rather pluck my eyeballs out than speak to him again. In the world of Tinder this counts as “going okay”. When I asked how we managed to match given the fact he does not live here he confirmed it was because he was up doing some work for the General Medical Council which seemed reasonable given their headquarters are in Manchester.
He asked me for a drink but I couldn’t as I had plans but we agreed to meet up in a few weeks.
And then I got a bit curious.
You see, I deal with the General Medical Council a bit because of my job (yes I sue doctors for a living – apologies). Anyway I know that the GMC has its own lawyers to attend hearings and people that go to take notes etc. Why then would a 5ft 7 GP be needing to travel to Manchester?
A couple of clickety-clicks later and I discovered the real reason.
He was not “doing some work for the GMC”. He was attending his own fitness to practice hearing! More investigation confirmed that he stood accused of having an inappropriate relationship with a vulnerable patient, amongst other things. Now I am all for innocent until proven guilty, but regardless of whether he actually did it he definitely shouldn’t have been trying to fit in a cheeky Tinder date in the middle of his own trial.
I mean Steven Avery from Making a Murderer could very well be innocent, but would you go on a date with him?
I did go on a few dates with a nice guy but I knew it probably wouldn’t go anywhere when I had no qualms about ordering and eating an XL portion of nachos at the cinema (with two portions of nacho cheese as standard). If I had liked him I probably would have ordered a bottle of water and eaten the nachos later in the toilet like a normal person.
Needless to say I have now deleted Tinder again. I won’t be going on any dates any time soon – I would much rather be out with my friends (or in my onesie watching Sherlock). Still, if nothing else, at least those three dates proved to my mum that I’m not a lesbian.
Speak soon (and I mean it this time)
Obviously (?) I was joking when I said I wanted to get out of the marathon. For this of you who have sponsored me already thank you very very much. The link is here if you are feeling generous. https://www.justgiving.com/coughymcwheezy