In the beginning..........

When your best friend's head fits entirely into one cup of your bra, with space for her ears, you can come to one of two conclusions.......1) your friend has an abnormally small head or 2) your boobs, and indeed the rest of you, has reached such gargantuan proportions that frankly, Greenpeace should be involved in some capacity.

My best friend is a loon but, God love her, is in possession of a fairly average sized head. That leaves only one conclusion to draw..

12 years ago, I looked like this...........

Today, I er, don't. I mean, don't get me wrong, this physical evolution is something I knew would happen. You can't remain slim and pneumatic when your physical exertions deplete from nightly (oh yes) clubbing marathons to getting a little 'huffy and puffy' when you haul your carcass to the freezer on the hunt for Ben and indeed Jerry.

The reason for this transformation from a size 10 to a size 20 are numerous and frankly, mundane. I ate too much and I moved too little. I also did this.......

twice............

So today I am here. I have tried slimming clubs (three times), a personal trainer (briefly), I have joined numerous gyms and for a short while managed 3 classes a week, I have dieted (unsuccessfully) and have got a truly astonishing collection of tummy reducing knickers...........not much success thus far.

To be BRUTALLY honest, I think I might be happy to just reinforce the sofa and buy a rag on a stick if were not for the following:
- I cannnot get bras to fit. I am a 40HH but no bras fit me. I am the cause of many a Debenhams/Marks and Spencer/Bravissimo employees nervous breakdown......
- I do not like looking like Miss. Trunchbull from 'Matilda' in EVERY photo that is taken of me
- I can no longer see parts of my body.
- I worry about having a stroke
- I want to NOT be the largest girl on nights out/in exercise classes/ at parties/ in the shopping centre
- I would like to be able to go out without underwear which starts at my ankle and ends at my neck and which gradually rolls down/up as the evening progresses.
- My lovely brother in law and his gorgeous missus are getting married in August. My husband is the best man, my 4 year old daughter is the flower girl and my son is the ring eater bearer. I would like to not be the marquee.
- My friend is having a mega party in June. I went to the last one that they had in a size 20 taffeta tent with a hairdo that made Hilary Clinton look girly. I would like to look better this time.


I have had two children, I have always had massive knockers, I am fundamentally lazy, I have a deep rooted fear that dramatic weight loss will leave me looking like a shar pei as I have REALLY rubbish skin elasticity and consequently, I do not wish/hope to return to size 10. It's just that reducing to a bra size that doesn't require a forklift would be a big Brucey Bonus.

So I'm going to work at it. And I'm going to write. I love writing, I've always loved it. I love the way that the words ripple out of my head and I can get them to sculpt and flow into formations which paint a delicate picture or which convey and subtle tone.

I want to sculpt myself in the same way but honestly, that's a serious task that takes effort. However, if my physical picture is to become as sculpted as my written one, I need to crack the chuff on.

My name is not actually Nia but it fits the voice that helps me to shape the words in my head.

I am Nia and I write stuff. I hope you like it x