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If you had to eat your feelings, what would they taste like?

Fat Mum Slim /

Over the weekend, everything went to crap.

My blog died and I wasn’t sure it could be revived. Now, I know when I say something like that there will always be someone that wants to put it into perspective for me. Let me just say I’ve put a gazillion years into this thing and I love it like it’s a third child {and it sleeps better, and doesn’t talk back so it might just be my favourite}. So, yes it’s a first world problem, but a problem nonetheless.

But it wasn’t even just the blog. My thongs broke at the markets. I made a beautiful avocado, cheese and tomato open toastie and as I picked it from the plate, it fell to the floor. I KNOW! And a handful of other things that I don’t want to remember.

Do you ever have those moments when you try to convince yourself that you’re not stressed, and you almost have yourself fooled? I was all like, ‘Oh I’m sweet. I don’t mind. It’s all good’. But really, inside my organs were going into overdrive as my body was stressing out. I drank Chamomile Tea {because the pack told me it helps with stress and it was too early for wine}, I also drank some Calm X {because I didn’t have valium. I joke!}. I distracted myself and played with my children, but I don’t think it was that successful because Lacey said to me, “Did you not get enough sleep last night or something?”

Hubby was working, so that made it even harder to stress out properly, which for the record is to go to my room, hide under the doona and cry. Big, fat, juicy, life-is-unfair tears. So I waited it out.

When he arrived home mid-afternoon I told him that I had to get out. Some might go to a bar and drink their sorrows, I went to the supermarket and did the grocery shopping, because I’m an a-grade nerd and grocery shopping without kids is the equivalent of a soothing holiday.

I was texting my friend Stacey, and she told me to go straight ahead and eat my feelings. I don’t need to be told twice, so with her utmost permission, I made plans to eat my feelings.

That was quite the big decision to make, what did my feelings want? I suggested to Stacey that it would most likely be chips and gravy, and she said I should promote it to potato gems and gravy. For the win.

Potato gems were out {sadly} but chips with gravy were in.


Don’t call Jenny Craig, this isn’t something I usually do. Although by looking at me you might think differently. But GOD IT WAS GOOD.

I ate 5… 6, maybe seven small mouthfuls and loved every moment and then got rid of them {by rid of them meant I left them in the car accidentally and then threw them out at 9pm when I suddenly remembered them again}.

And because I’m me, I felt a little bit guilty so went walking for an hour afterwards. And I didn’t get attacked by plovers}.


For the record, the walking felt better than the chip-eating… but it was a pretty close race.

I wish I had better coping mechanisms. I used to. It would take SO much to rattle me, and now… ugh. I just am not great. I kinda teeter between being fine and forgetting worries, and then being elbow-deep in near hysteria. I think it’s all internal. From the outside you probably wouldn’t know, except my more severe bitchy-resting face.

I went to bed that night, and my website looked it was alive again. And I was content. I gave myself a talking to for being a stress-head and vowed to never be so stressed again.

I woke to the brand new day. Hubby was at work again. The kids and I got our art and craft on {read: Lulu drew on every window in the house and I didn’t really care}, and I discovered at some point that my website was dead again. I was less hysterical and more like a duck {all calm above the water, all kicking like crazy underneath}.

I messaged Hubby at some point after lunch and suggested that I might need some me-time once he arrived home.

Oh god, I hate myself just reading this. Note to self: Calm the farm, lady.

So he arrived home and decided that he was taking the girls to the beach so I could be alone.

Then I gave myself a reality check, and realised life is more than my blog. So I put on my cossie and went to the beach with them. And it was one of my favourite afternoons ever. I forgot I even had a dead blog. What’s a blog, again?


The moral to the story is: Eat your feelings, go for a walk and never say no to the beach.

The blog, as you can tell, is alive and kicking.

I shouldn’t have worried anyway, right?

If you were going to eat your feelings, with my permission, what would you go for?