Wednesday, 2 November 2016

Disaster Comes in Threes - the passing of Wanda

Hey Ragers and Ragettes. I wanted to write about my new hair extensions but sadly life has happened. I received some devastating news this morning. A friend of mine died last night.

Wanda (name changed) and I met online in a guinea pig forum. She was a New Yorker who lived a colourful life. She was battling uterine cancer but she was winning her battle. We started talking because she identified my depression and was a counsellor that worked with the mentally ill in New York.

Last night it seems, her husband of 16 years stabbed her to death then turned the knife on himself. He was able to be saved and is in the hospital now.

I found out when I was scrolling through my newsfeed. Wanda's Facebook profile pic popped up. At first I thought it was one of those jokey quiz games where you found out what you were in a past life, but I read the article. Murdered. Stabbed by her husband. I threw up.

Wanda and I chatted extensively for 3 months. She was always there if I was struggling with my mental health. Recently I decided to get help for my depression and she walked me through it. I had to talk to doctors about some dark times, Wanda always messaged to see if I was ok and how it went.

She was winning her battle with her uterine cancer. I'd ask her daily how she was. She'd always reply, I'm winning. She had everything to live for. The treatment was working. This couldn't have been a suicide pact. A knifing is a crime of passion, Rage and anger. Not love and concern. She spoke so highly of her husband. The questions going through my head, Was he abusing her all this time? Why would he snap?

2016 has been a crazy, crazy year. I lost Anne, Nana Rage now Wanda. I just don't get it. This why I have issues with religion. Why does God insist on taking these good people and let her assailant live? (If New York has the death penalty then please fry this bastard up!!!!)

Selfishly I think who am I going to go to for help?  I feel so alone now. Yes, we never met but a connection was there.

Seeing her Facebook page with people telling how she touched other people's lives gave me the validation of what I knew. She was selfless, loving, funny and special.

As I sit here waiting for my dinner to cook, I feel numb. It's not the medication the doctors put me on, it's the emptiness of not getting a message from her to see how my appointment was today. Or her telling me about the art class she was taking. And how she loved to listen to her jazz records (she used to be a jazz singer). Simon and I were planning on going over to see her.

I'm sorry if this post makes no sense. All I can say is Rest in Peace, dear Wanda. You were one in a billion and tonight the stars will be a little brighter tonight....

Take care of yourselves Ragers and Ragettes. I appreciate you all.

Lots of love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxxxx

Wednesday, 12 October 2016

On New Hair

Hey Ragers and Ragettes!  Autumn is here!!!  Today I am wearing my black and white striped jumper with my favourite bell bottom jeans and my new knee high black flat boots.  Dressing for warmth and comfort as I sit under the air conditioning and Simon seems to always be hot. 

 It’s been a crazy few weeks, as you know.  With Nana Rage passing and with work and everything else, well, it’s taken its toll on my mental health.  I have had a few panic attacks and crying fits.  I know it’s not right so I have sought out professional help.  I have an appointment on the 18th and one on the 25th to assess my first diagnosis of bipolar disorder. They think that I was misdiagnosed as I have other background symptoms that are now starting to express themselves. My original diagnosis was 20 years ago.  They feel that mental health screening has improved loads so they want to make sure that I get the right treatment.

So I am going to try and be uplifting today.

As you know, I have battled with my hair. I was a hair model last year but the haircut didn’t get cleaned up the way it should have.  Luckily I found a new hairdresser who is amazing. She cleaned the shambles of a hair cut up, redyed it and I looked human, and a fabulous one at that rocking a cute pink pixie crop.

I have always wanted long Rapunzel like hair.  I made the decision to grow my hair out a bit as I have never really had long hair before.  I have really baby fine hair.  And when it gets to a certain length, it becomes wispy, stringy and horrid.  That’s why I have always had short hair. 

I have decided to get the long hair I have dreamed of with the help of hair extensions.  I had hair extensions 10 years ago when I lived in Dublin.  I chose glue in ones. It ended in a hairdresser physically having to cut the extensions out and me having a bald patch. Not a good look!

This time, I did my research and I am going for nano ring extensions.  This is better for hair, it allows growth and it doesn’t damage hair. 

The woman I have chosen to do the extensions is fabulous.  She has so many positive reviews and is well known around Liverpool.   I have been speaking to her since October last year.  I had a 1 to 1 consultation to make a hair plan last December.  I had to grow my hair out to at least 5 inches in the back.  I was going to get the extensions in May this year but I had a wobble and ended up cutting my hair as I was rocking a shocking looking mullet. 

But with the help of my new hairdresser (And my hairdresser threatening to punch me in the vag if I even think about cutting my hair) and with photos of long beautiful hair as inspiration, I can proudly say that my hair now skims my shoulders. 

So on Saturday, I went to see the woman who is fitting my extensions to colour match my hair.  She sat me down and she said that she was proud of my persistence in growing my hair out and was pleased with the condition.  (Twice a week deep conditioning treatments and using Bed Head Colour Goddess Shampoo – That is the best shampoo ever!  It smells like fudge!)  As my hair is relatively short, she decided on 10-12 inch extensions (The hair will fall just below my collar bones.)  and matched beautiful chestnut brown hair swatches to mine.

So I will be having my extensions fitted at 11am on October 22nd (a birthday present for me!!!!!!!!!) and it will take 3 hours to complete.  She said that when she is fitting them she will talk through the maintenance and such.  The thing I love about the person I have chosen to do my extensions is that she is big on aftercare.   Her philosophy is that when she fits the extensions, I will represent her work professionally.  So she hammers home the aftercare side of it.  

So to say that I am excited about it is an understatement!  New gorgeous hair on the horizon!  I am giving myself a year with the extensions to see how I feel about it.  And if they don’t work out I am going to chop my hair off and go back to a funky turquoise haircut.

This has provided a welcome distraction from everything that has happened.  The feelings that I have been feeling are ugly.  Some of the thoughts that have gone through my head have left me shaken.   The last few weeks I have burst into tears for no reason.  People think that I should just smile, get over it.  I do my best to keep myself up and motivated.  My workouts help out massively.  And Suzanne, like always,  has been my rock.  I now know who my friends are and I have ht the jackpot with Suzanne.

So I am focusing on getting my luscious long hair.  I am ramping it up at the gym, eating better foods, getting sleep and trying to find good things to focus on. 

So, in 10 days I will have the hair of my dreams and hopefully I will be stronger, happier and hopefully I can work through this snit that  I am in and come back fighting stronger.

And to those who are reading this that are fighting depression or any mental health disorder, you’re not alone.  Message me.  I will listen, help, and make you laugh.  I will do what I can to help you.  You are not alone.

So until next time, Ragers and Ragettes, keep your head and standards high and your heels even higher. 

Lots of Love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxxx

Wednesday, 28 September 2016

The Death of Nana Rage Part Two: You Can't Pick Your Family

Hey Ragers and Ragettes, after the post about Nana, I had a little cry. I also had my beauty therapist come round and my long talons are back, my eyebrows are on fleek and she French plaited my short hair. (My hair is in that strange in between stage where it's just irritating. I'm growing it and preparing it for my project in October....)

Suzanne said rightly that "Sometimes you just need to get things off your chest and then Pamper yourself and not think so hard!!!"

I'm pampered and ready to give you the rest of the story about Nana Rage's death.

As you know from my last post, my dad's family flew in from all corners of the globe to give Nana Rage a send off. Two of those people are the Colonel and his wife.

His wife is my dad's sister. She's two years older than my dad and has it in her head that her shit doesn't smell.  Oh yes, I'm pretty sure there is one of these in every family.

She married into a good family. The colonel (my uncle) is also my godfather. He was in the Air Force, rose through the ranks and retired a one star General.

They have always turned their noses down at my mama and my family. They would make fun of my mama saying she was stupid because English isn't her first language (mama speaks 7 languages). They'd make fun of mama's clothes because she'd shop at second hand stores. They turn their nose up at me because I am tattooed, pierced and the fact that I have bipolar disorder (my mental health is obviously a shameful thing for them)

And you would think that at a time like this, they'd act with some decorum....did they fuck!

It all started when I was picked up st the airport by the colonel and Nana's nephew. The 2 of them chatted in the car, with me in the back. Well, it was mostly the colonel chatting about how wonderful his kids and grandkids were.

He asked what I was up to and I started to tell him, he interrupted me to tell me how wonderful his niece was. Fab.

Whenever the colonel and his wife were in the room, there was an atmosphere. They were constantly boasting and didn't even really give me or mama the time of day.

Even when my sister face timed I asked if they wanted to talk to her (everyone else chatted and laughed with my sister) they refused to talk to her.

When we went to scatter the ashes, the colonel couldn't make it up the hill. I videoed the ashes being scattered. I sent the video to my cousins and to my sister, and they were grateful. I asked if the colonel wanted to see the video. He gave me a look as if to say, uh why would I want to see that? I asked to have a photograph with them (their daughter, my cousin asked for this) and they flat out refused.

At dinner, the colonel's wife said that she had her DNA tested (keep in mind that she is my dad's sister) and was proudly telling us that they found that my dad's side of the family have Belgian, Scottish, Viking, Irish and English DNA. She then looked at my mama and said, luckily I don't have inferior took every cell in my body to stop me from getting up and dumping the roast chicken on that stuffy bitch's head!

And it didn't end there. When they left, they didn't even say goodbye to me, mama or to my uncle who had taken care of Nana Rage for the last 11 years!!! (They looked their noses down at my uncle also)

When they left, the atmosphere completely changed. Everyone was happier. We were joking and laughing and smiling.

I talked to mama in private about this and she said, Betty, hold your head up high. You were polite and you at least made the effort to come over (I was the only grandchild that attended)

I mean seriously....

Why the fuck do they think that they are better????? We have the same fucking blood going through our veins, my nana was my family too!!

So, when I returned, I decided to get my DNA tested. Why? I'm proud of who I am, inferior DNA and all.

I'm sorry if this is a strange post but I don't understand what makes family act like this? Families are supposed to be there for each other. They are supposed to support and help. We're blood related whether they like it or not.

So, I have decided I am going to be extra nice to them. Every birthday, anniversary and holiday I'm sending them cards. I'm going to be so lovely and sweet until they are sick. They cannot then say that I am awful.

Sigh. Families, eh? Can't live with them and you can't kill them...

Until next time Ragers and Ragettes, keep your head and standards high and your heels even higher

Lots of love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxxx

Monday, 19 September 2016

On the Death of Nana Rage Part One

Hey Ragers and Ragettes!!  It’s a cool day here in St Helens.  Autumn, I think, is finally making its way over.  Today I am wearing my burgundy palazzo pants (So forgiving!!!), my navy blue cami and white cardi.  I am wearing my black Converse shoes. 

Also, I am proud to report that I have finally made it into Onederland!!  I feel really confident about my weight loss journey.  I am getting there.  I need to keep doing what I am doing (eating a good healthy diet and exercising 6 times a week!!) and I will soon be down to the body measurements I want. 

I have wanted to write this post now for over a week and I have struggled to find the words.  So please bear with me.  If this doesn’t make sense, I apologise.

6 weeks ago, I was told that my Nana Rage (My dad’s mum), who was 100, took a fall.  She injured her back and her elbow.  But the doctors said that the prognosis was good.  She was chatty, had all her faculties.  She was eating and wanted to get up and about and get out of hospital.  The doctors decided to keep her in though due to her age, which was a blessing.

On the 3rd of September, I received a text from Mama Rage telling me that my Nana (who was 100 years old) had taken a turn for the worst.  I didn’t think anything of it.  She was a tough woman and from the last time I saw her, I genuinely thought that she would pull through.

Sadly, a half an hour later I received another message from Mama Rage.  Nana had passed away. 

To be honest the text didn’t register.  I just sat there trying to make sense of what I just read.  So I reread the text at least 60 times.  And it still didn’t make sense.

So as if I was on Autopilot, I somehow booked my flights over and soon before you know it, I was in Manchester Airport Departure Lounge with a glass of red wine waiting to board the flight to Cork, Ireland.  My parents were flying over along with my Uncle from Zimbabwe. 

After some delays (Why would anyone want to build an airport in the foggiest place in Ireland??  Seriously, people!!) I was with my parents, my Uncle Neil from Zimbabwe, my Uncle and Auntie (who I like to call the Colonel and his wife) and my Uncle Luke and Auntie Martha, (Uncle Luke and Martha are fabulous people.  They have been taking care of Nana Rage plus Martha’s mum who is 91 years old)  (All names changed)

The Colonel told me exactly what happened when Nana died and she died with dignity.  On the morning of September 3rd she started to cough up blood.  So the doctor basically said she has a choice.  She either has a camera shoved down her throat or they make her comfortable.  Nana Rage overheard this and said, and I quote, hell no!  I’m done.  The doctor give her some morphine.  The Colonel’s Wife combed her hair; Nana put her teeth in and held my Auntie’s hand.  The Colonel wanted a coffee and he left.  She looked at my Auntie (her oldest child and my Dad’s sister) and smiled and said I love you dear.  She then closed her eyes and she breathed her last. 

The funeral was held on Wednesday the 7th of September.  25 people showed up and it was a simple ceremony.  No fuss.  Amazing Grace played and I shed a tear.  The coffin was small (Nana was only 4 foot 9).  I squeezed my Mama’s hand and we made it through the ceremony.  My dad’s eyes glassed over and he wiped tears away.  There is nothing worse in this world than seeing your father cry.  I wiped my tears away and took a deep breath.  I had to be strong for my parents.

We then went to a nice hotel for a lovely meal.  We all sat together, chatted, reminisced about Nana Rage.   I met family that I didn’t know that I had.   It all seemed surreal.  It hadn’t sunk in.

Then on the Thursday, The Colonel and his Wife, Uncle Neil, Mama and Dad, Uncle Luke, Auntie Martha and me went out to scatter the ashes.  Uncle Neil brought along my Granddad’s ashes.  We drove out into the rainy windy Irish country.  My Mama was panicking (as always) about getting the right weather for scattering the ashes.  We stopped off and had a cup of tea in a cute, quirky tea shop in Oysterhaven.  As we left the sun started to shine, the wind dropped. 

We then made it to Sandy Cove.  My Uncle Luke decided on Sandy Cove because this was where my Nana and Granddad used to sit and have a picnic and watch the world go by.  The sun was shining, there was a gentle breeze.  The sky turned a beautiful colour of blue.  A total difference from the windy, rainy grey day that we left.  My dad, my Auntie, Uncle Luke, Auntie Martha, Uncle Neil and I walked up the path (my mama’s health has deteriorated so much she’s now walking with a cane and the Colonel’s health is dreadful too) to the spot where my grandparents sat.  Quietly they opened the boxes that held my granddad’s and Nana’s ashes.  My Uncle Neil and my Uncle Luke started to scatter them.  We were all silent.  I recorded this moment for my Sister and my cousins.  It was moving.  After the ashes were scattered we took some flowers and laid them down on the spot and stood back for a few minutes to reflect.  A few tears slipped down my face and the faces of my family.  United in the grief but also celebrating the life of Nana Rage.  100 years and 10 months.  She touched our lives.  Her quiet, gentle spirit was inspirational.  She was firm but fair, sharp witted to the end. 

I thought back to the last time I saw her.  How she took my hand and said, Betty, you make your own heaven and you make your own hell.  God, she was so right. 

Uncle Neil wiped his tears away.  And smiled and said, let’s go.  We wordlessly started walking back down to my Mama and the Colonel. 

We got back to my Uncle Luke’s and had a nice dinner together.  We chatted, laughed and had a toast to my Nana and Granddad.   Reunited on what would have been their 70th wedding anniversary.

On the Friday I was flying back and my parents were flying out Saturday morning, early.  So we decided to go to the airport hotel and my parents would stay the night and we can have some time together before I had to leave.

When I landed in Manchester, I was exhausted, emotionally.  I felt numb.  Simon hugged me as I walked through arrivals.  It was nice to feel his hug.  He kissed my forehead and said, let’s get home.  All the way home, I was quiet.  I was still processing everything.

The weekend I just went through like a zombie.  And I admit. I got drunk on Saturday night and Sunday night. On the Monday I felt a little hungover, tired and emotional.  I went through the day feeling sorry for myself.

When I got home, I sat in my room put some sad music on and had a good cry.  I bawled for 2 hours straight until I was gasping for breath.  My eyes tears stained.  I needed a few hours to not be ok.  After those 2 hours, I took a hot shower, put some clean pajamas on and when Simon got home, I gave him a huge cuddle.   It was enough to set the internal “reset” button. 

It’s ok to not be ok for a few hours, Ragers and Ragettes.  We are bombarded with positivity and affirmations daily on social media.  I take those affirmations and posts to heart.  I am a firm believer that happiness is a choice.  And before I get people telling me “what if this” and “what if that” I say this.  Situations in your life you can do one of 2 things.  First you can go hide, cry and say pity me!!!  And keep whining and complaining and expect a magic fairy to come and sort it all out for you.

Or you can have a few hours of crying.  Get it out of your system and pick yourself up and figure out how to make the best of the situation. 

I have been in many shitty situations.  And I have gotten out of those situations by casting feelings aside and being clinical.  At the end of the day, Ragers and Ragettes, it’s your life.  And as Nana Rage said to me, you make your own heaven and you make your own hell.

It’s something that I have been working on recently.  And with Nana’s death and Anne’s death, I have learned that you need to keep good people around you and get rid of those Fuckboys and assholes that bring you down.  I have cleared out my social media getting rid of those that complain, whine and cry.  I don’t want that.  I want people that add to my life and enrich it, not bring me down.  People like Suzanne every day inspires me and I thank God for her friendship and love.

So I am sorry if this is a bit of a weird one.  I have more to say on this and I will publish in a few days as there is more to this story. 

So until next time, Ragers and Ragettes, be thankful for your family and true friends.  They are blessings and are the most precious things in the world.

Lots of Love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxxxxxxxxx

Wednesday, 24 August 2016

A Tribute to Anne

Hey Ragers and Ragettes.  I know I posted yesterday but I was given news about something from my family and it has been rattling around my head for the last 24 hours.

I received news that there was a death back home in the town where I was raised.  Her name was Anne.  (I am going to give her the dignity of using just her first name)  When Mama Rage told me, I burst into tears.

Why you may ask.

Anne was a lovely woman.  She was very active in the church and in the community.  And twice in my life, she acted as a glowing light when I felt sad.

The first time I met Anne was when I was in Girl Scouts.  I was only 8 years old.  My troop was lead by the mom of a girl that was in my class.  They didn’t have loads of money and the troop leader used to be bully me because she perceived that my family was rich (my family weren't rich!!  My mama made the best of everything that she had.) and the fact that my family were foreign. I hated going to Girl Scouts meetings. 

I would be polite (as I was taught from my parents) and ask if she needed help with anything and she would retort, imitating my Mama's accent, I don’t want you to get your princess hands dirty, darling.  On Girl Scouts trips, she would be little me in front of everyone.  I would get blamed for everything that went wrong.

I remember one trip we had to do as a troop.   I didn’t want to go.  My mama had to pull me out of my bedroom and get me into the car.  I remember crying that I didn’t want to go.  

When we pulled up to the troop leader's home, she was sat outside along with Anne.  Anne introduced herself and said that she was the troop leader’s cousin and that she was chaperoning this trip. She saw my tear stained face and asked me my name.  Well on that trip, Anne stayed next to me.  When we were driving to the activity Anne picked me, my 2 friends from my class and 2 other girls that I got along with ok to go in her car.

Anne let me sit in the passenger seat of her car.  She chatted to me, asked me about my family.  She listened.  She told me about her cats and how she volunteers at the local soup kitchen at the weekend.  She had an infectious laugh that made everyone laugh too.

During the trip, I stayed next to her and the troop leader didn’t say one nasty word to me.  Anne protected me.  Anne made a point of being kind and treating me with respect.  She was straight and to the point, no messing about. 

Our paths didn’t cross again until 8 years later. 

My parents decided to switch churches because the choir director (My mama and I used to sing in the choir and I would sometimes play the piano) made some inappropriate comments to me (It came out later that he was caught pants down balls deep into a 12 year old girl. I had a near miss on that one!)

The new church was on the older part of town.  The houses weren’t brightly painted like in the old church neighbourhood.  The congregation was older.  They weren’t wearing the latest clothes.

Of course Mama signed us up for the choir.  I remember our first choir practice.  I walked in, and who should catch my eye?  Anne. 

I don’t if she recognised me but that same warm smile greeted my Mama and me.  She walked over and asked us what we sang. 

Mama proudly said Betty and I sing alto.

Anne replied, well so do I.

Anne helped us get our music and the music that we didn’t have, she offered to lend my mama and I her copy.  She would share off of someone else.  She stood next as we sang.  After a few pieces of music, she winked at me and said, I’m standing next to you because you sing the notes perfectly.

When I was 16, I was going through so much shit.  Regular turbulent high school shit but also I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.  Most days I didn’t want to get out of bed and face the world.  My relationship with my parents were at an all time low.

I would burst into tears at weird times, once I burst into tears at church.  Anne, saw what happened, guided me into the bathroom.  She didn’t ask if I was ok (I was sick and tired of people asking me if I was ok) she handed me some tissues and let me cry.  She hugged me and said, let’s go back and sing.

To most people these would just be little moments in life that were everyday occurrences.  But at times of sadness, Anne was there. 

Mama yesterday told me that Anne not only was kind to me, but she often went without to help others.  She would give her car to someone who needed it, and would walk 3 miles in the rain to church. 

Anne volunteered for St Vincent De Paul society.  She visited the sick and the lonely.  She had a job as a teacher but had very little time to herself, to the detriment of her health.

She has a big family and my Mama told me that she would call them asking to look in on Anne and see if she was ok.  I got the impression that Anne’s family weren’t too helpful.

I wept yesterday, Ragers and Ragettes, because in Anne’s death, the world lost a selfless, loving, caring woman.  Yes, those small moments in my life where she shone her light may seem small but they were in reality huge beacons of light in a dark world.  She made me feel human in those times.  

In this day in age, people like Anne are a rarity.  Giving of their time and the little that they have to help strangers.  Truly selfless, good people.

I don’t understand why God decided to take Anne and let the scumbags of this world live.  I have questioned my faith many times.  I call myself agnostic now because of shit like this.  Why take someone as loving and wonderful as Anne away from the world?  Why does he let the drug dealers, child abusers, rapists and murderers live?

I don’t know the answer but all I know is last night there was a new and very bright star in the sky.

RIP, Anne.  Thank you for teaching us kindness, selflessness and love.  You will be missed.

Lots of Love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxxx

Tuesday, 23 August 2016

On Going on a Night Out

Good Morning Ragers and Ragettes!!  I must say that it is a glorious day in St Helens!  The sun is shining, it’s warm and so I drove my convertible into work today with the top down.  The only issue was the fact my straightened my hair became a tangly mess (my hair is at the awkward in between phase of growing out.  It’s now between chin and shoulder length and because my hair is fine, it tangles to easily.)

Today’s outfit is my favourite vintage sundress.  It is navy blue, sky blue, lime green, yellow, and white with spaghetti straps, a blue ribbon around the waist and the skirt flares out and lands right at the knee.  I have teamed this dress with my tan platform wooden sandals and my red lippy.  A lot of people have commented on my dress today.  I do feel, well, rather pretty.  And the best bit is when I got Simon to zip the dress up, there were no grunts, swearing or squeezing me into the dress.  Yes, I am wearing this dress and my back boobs are not creeping up to under my armpits!  Result!

I am feeling quite good.  I am now at 200 pounds.  I know that my actions this week will determine whether or not I get into “onederland” but I am confident that I will.  My body is shrinking and I am feeling good. 

I'm feeling so good about my body that when my beauty therapist messaged me last night about going out for drinks for her boyfriend’s birthday (her boyfriend works for us) I felt quite happy!  Usually I get a bit depressed because I feel too ugly to go out.   I went to my wardrobe last night and found a dress that I bought last year from River Island that was too small.

I tentatively slipped it over my head (while wearing a cotton camisole and big knickers) and well, it fits!  I will have to put some shapewear on underneath but yes, it fits!!  This little dress is a satin cocktail dress that sits about 3 inches above my knee.  It is navy blue, beige, and red and is asymmetric. The sleeve is kimono style and falls to the left elbow.  I am excited to wear it!!!

Now comes the hard part....What will I wear with it?  How will I do my hair and makeup?  Yes, these questions are stressful but are exciting too!!

Simon and I don’t socialise much because of work.  It is one thing that I miss about my old life.  I love getting glammed up.   When I was dating, I enjoyed putting on my dresses, doing my makeup and the excitement of what the night would hold for me.

I used to have a ritual.  First the music would come on.  This is a must.  It’s always upbeat music.  I get my shower, wash my hair.  I then go and pour a glass of red wine. 

Body dried off, then body lotion is applied (I love body lotion!!!!!  I go through a big bottle of cocoa butter every 2-3 weeks.) hair up in a towel.

Then I blow dry my hair and put my hair mousse in for volume.  Once my fine hair is dried, then it’s make up time!!

Now, depending on how big of a night out this is, I might have fake individual eyelashes put on.  This is my favourite beauty accessory.  False eyelashes are fabulous.  If I have my false eyelashes on, I tend to do a bold red lip and leave my eyes very plain.  Or if I don’t have my false eyelashes on, I will attempt a smokey eye which usually looks like a big smudgy mess (A resolution for me is to take a makeup artist course.  I might ask for that for my birthday.....) with a neutral lip.

After my makeup is done, I then put my outfit on.  I put a scarf over my face if I have to pull a dress over my head so I don’t smudge my makeup.  I then finish styling my hair.  Spurred by fab music and a glass or 2 of wine, I am usually ready to go out and enjoy the night!!!

This whole routine takes about an hour.  I hate being rushed when I am doing my getting ready to go out routine. 

Now for Saturday, I am excited because I get to do my routine (minus the wine). I have the dress and now I have to plan the makeup and hair. 

I am thinking of curling my hair.  This will involve me sleeping in hair rollers.  The curls will go crazy.  I will tame them by pulling them back in a headband and the result is usually a faux afro.

Which leaves me with the lips with false eyelashes or smokey eyes with a neutral lip?  Suzanne (who always gets it right) suggests smokey eye with neutral lips, I think that I will do that as it is out of my comfort zone.  Plus it will give me opportunity to try out my new Too Faced (I love this brand!!!) liquid eyeliner.   So I will need to start watching smokey eye Youtube tutorials!!!

Then there is the shoes and handbag shoes with my red clutch bag or gold sandals with my leopard print and gold clutch?  Suzanne says gold sandals.  And I think that she is right.  That means gold accessories, simple gold hoops I think and my vintage gold bangle. 

Yes, there is the big possibility that I will change my mind and change my outfit last minute...that has been known to happen.  But that is what happens with the excitement of going on a night out! 

With my body shrinking, my confidence is growing and I am feeling better about myself.  The key is to keep going on the path that I am.  Keep pushing because seeing the results of my hard work is spurring me on.

But in all the excitement, there is one thing that needs to be factored in.  My alcohol tolerance is down and I don’t particularly want to be hungover on Sunday so it looks like I will be alcohol free on Saturday night.  I have only done this once in my life and it is difficult. I just don’t want to screw up all the hard work I have put into getting my body back on track.  So here is to being boring, sober but fabulous looking!!!

Until next time, Ragers and Ragettes, keep your head and standards high and your heels even higher!

Lots of love,

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxx

P.S.  I need to give a shout out to my girl, Suzanne.  She’s going through a hard time this week.   Suzanne,  a always here if you need me.  I love you and am blessed to have you in my life!!!  xxxx

Wednesday, 17 August 2016

On Motivation

Hey Ragers and Ragettes!!  It’s a very, very, very, very sunny day here in St Helens.  I am not complaining in the slightest.  The sun is out and everyone seems to be in a great mood. 

Today I am breaking out of my comfort zone and wearing a burgundy, black and cream strappy playsuit with my black and gold gladiator sandals plus my trusty black cardigan as Simon loves to run the air conditioning on sub zero degree temperatures.  I love jumpsuits, as you all know, but playsuits are a bit different.  That means legs are on display and plus you have the issue that the playsuit can wedge up into your crotch.  That is not a good look when you have to keep picking your jumpsuit out of your flange. But it is liberating having the breeze on your legs. 

Which brings me to motivation. 

As you all know I have been struggling to lose weight.  I do well, and then I relax and the weight comes back on.  This time I am actually doing it!!!  I have lost in total 16 pounds.  It’s been hell.  Some weeks I lose 2 pounds and then I will have weeks where I don’t lose at all.  Then I will gain and then lose.  I am very close to clearing my first hurdle.  The place called “Onederland”.  Onederland is a magical place.  It is a place where normal people are.  It’s a hurdle that I have been trying to clear for 2 and a half years now.   I get very close.  Very, very, very, very close and then I snap, relax and then go the other way.

I have decided that enough is enough.  So I have become the food Nazi.  I am now the most boring woman in the world.  Why?  Because I am tired of being a fattie.  And before anyone says, oh no you are not a fattie, I say shut your fucking cakehole, I am a fattie.  Right now I weigh in at 203 pounds and when you are 5 foot 5, yeah, I am a fattie. 

But I am doing something about it properly.  What have I done?   I have cut my alcohol down to nothing.  I am eating 3 meals a day and 2 snacks.  All clean, all healthy.  I am busting my ass at the gym 5-6 days a week.  I do yoga one day a week.  I also have stopped apologising for taking care of myself.  For example Rita wants to meet up this weekend and I have told her that if we do, there will be NO alcohol consumed. (She hasn't responded to confirm that she wants to meet up) And instead of waiting for Simon to get home, I eat 60 minutes after my workout.  I cook Simon dinner separately.  Fuck everyone else.  I am focusing on me and my goals.

I will be going home for Christmas this year, not only to Ohio, but Simon and I are flying in Miami.  Yes, Miami.  One of the plastic surgery capitals of the USA.  Where there is sunshine pretty much 365 days a year.  So I will be surrounded by fit, sexy women and I don’t want to look longingly at their toned fit bodies thinking, oh I am so fat.  No I want to join to hottie brigade.  I am tired of being the funny fat one. 

Yes, I have written about this before but the thought of turning 35 and being a fattie makes me sick.  So I have swapped coffee for hot lemon water or peppermint tea.   Sandwiches for Chicken and Broccoli.  The hardest part for me is the weekend.  I usually have a “treat” on the weekend but I have now cut down on treats.  I do give myself one treat and it is my post workout meal on a Saturday morning.  I treat myself to a pastry and a cup of coffee.  My dinner usually a steak with homemade sweet potato chips or a salad. 

I am training with my personal trainer twice a week.  We hit the weights and I am lifting heavy.  I am squatting 110 kilos, deadlifting 105 kilos, bench pressing 80 kilos and military pressing 40 kilos.  On days that I don’t train with personal trainer, I do cardio circuits.  It hurts.  My face is purple afterwards.  I feel like I am going to die. 

But it is getting me closer to my goal.  It may be 1-2 pounds a week but I am getting closer to clearing my first hurdle.  Onederland.  I have got to clear Onederland.  Once I have cleared Onederland, it is a mental roadblock that is lifted.  I am then back into the normal club. 

Suzanne has been so supportive.  I check in with her and my personal trainer once a week with my measurements and my weight.  She cheers me on.  She puts me in my place if I don’t perform and there have been times when I have been training that I want to give up I message her and she pushes me and tells me to keep going.  Keep pushing.  Eye on the prize.

The hardest thing for me has been motivation though. 

What I am about to say, I am going to apologise for because I do not condone at all what I am about to say as I believe in building people up and not breaking them down.

My biggest motivation, though, has been Keith’s girlfriend.  She is a horrible person.  She is controlling him.  She has moved him away from his friends and family.  He doesn’t go out on lads nights out anymore.  She has made him delete all his friends that are girls (including me) on social media (but she has male strippers on her friends list?) and basically she is controlling every aspect of his life. 

And she is a big fat, fattie.  She is huge.  When I was kind of friendly with her she would complain about being fat but said that she couldn’t exercise.  BULLSHIT.  Everyone can exercise.  Hell, I have good friend of mine in a wheelchair with a debilitating bone disease and she exercises.  There is a guy with cerebral palsy that is wheelchair bound that goes to the gym and works out.  And there is an old guy that has a respirator who works out that the gym.  What is your fucking excuse?  Going for a walk, getting on an exercise bike, lifting arm weights, yoga, horseback riding....there are so many activities to do!  I know that there are some people that hate gyms, that is totally ok.  I get it.  The gym isn’t for everyone but the weather is glorious outside.  Walk outside.  Or you can get free workouts on Instagram (That’s what I do for my cardio but I do them in the gym), workout DVD's, workouts on YouTube that you can do in the comfort of your own home.  Just get up and move!!!!

She is my biggest motivator.  I do NOT want to be like her at all.  Ever.  In anyway.  I don’t want to be fat like her.  I don’t want to be horrible like her.  I am insecure as a person but I don’t want to ostracise Simon from his friends and family.  I don’t want to tell lies, shit stir and cause harm.  Again, I feel bad about what I have written but she is a lesson for everyone to learn from.

To me, my motivation is not only to look fit in Miami but for her to see me slim, fitting into a UK size 10-12 pair of jeans or a bodycon looking fit.  I have snuck a photo of hers off of her facebook and put it on my desktop to look at if I smell a bacon sandwich or see a cake.  I DO NOT WANT TO BE LIKE HER....

I also want to fit into a certain jumpsuit for the flight to Miami.  I bought this jumpsuit from Primark back in 2011 when I was thinner.  I feel in love with it when I first saw it.  It is strapless with a sweet heart top.  It is navy blue with cream and tan with a tan belt and wide legs.  Very flattering.  The label said size 14.  I tried it on in the Primark in Manchester and it fit and I couldn’t afford it at the time (it was the week before payday!!)  and the next weekend I found the same jumpsuit, size 14, in the Primark in Liverpool, I didn’t try it on.  I went to wear it and there is no way that I gained 20 pounds in one week!!!  Talk about a mind fuck!!!  This jumpsuit (after measuring it) is a UK size 12 (USA size 8)  Not a UK size 14 (USA size 10).  So it has sat in my wardrobe waiting for me to wear it.  And I will wear it on the flight over to Miami with my tan tasselled sandals.   It is hanging up on the outside of my wardrobe so I see it EVERYDAY.  It is a reminder that I need to remember to exercise, eat properly and treat myself better.

I think that the main message from all this is that if you want to lose weight, motivation and accountability is the key.  I have exactly 48 days (Just under 7 weeks) until my birthday and 118 days (Under 17 weeks) until I board the flight to Miami.  I am fighting every day, every fucking day, to get into that jumpsuit.  And I will get into it. 

So, it’s time for another peppermint tea and some walnuts and until next time, Ragers and Ragettes, keep your head and standards high and your heels even higher

Lots of love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxx

Sunday, 17 July 2016

On Rituals in the Midst of Mental Chaos

Hey Ragers and Ragettes!!! It's a sunny Sunday here in St Helens. After a strange chilly start it looks like summer could be here! I'm wearing a blue sundress.

Well, from last post, I didn't get through to the second interview stage of the job. I was gutted, I must admit but kind of relieved. So I put my nose ring back in and dyed my bleach blonde locks to purple. My choppy hair style is growing out nicely and soon I can start making a decision on an actual hair style i want.

Ever so often I get days like this. It's usually a Sunday after all the chores have been completed. I'm not good at doing nothing. I have to always do something. That's when my brain starts to wander and that usually when I buy things. To stop me from thinking,

After the rejection from the job, I started thinking about my life. I have realised that I don't have the faintest idea what I want from my life.

I have a few different realities that play out in my head. Fantasies that are more attractive than my current reality.

Fantasy number one:  leave Simon and move to London. With my skill set I can get a very good job in an industry that I actually or in make up. In this fantasy I live a Sex in the City lifestyle. I have the sexy apartment, a closet full of fab clothes and shoes. I go to fabulous parties, have loads of very good sex and possibly find my Mr Big and live happily ever after.

Fantasy number two:  stay with Simon. We build the business, sell it off and move to the Welsh countryside. We buy an old stone walled pub in an eccentric village, like in a soap opera. We live out our days happily in this cute village.

Fantasy number three:  my power lifting goes well. Very well. I become the British champion and get spotted by a Swedish weight lifting coach. (Weight lifting is huge in Scandinavia) he whisks me away to Sweden to train as a weight lifter. I become the Rhonda Rousey of the weight lifting world. The hot Swedish coach and I fall in love and live happily ever after...the only down side? I'd have to import all my trousers. Scandinavian women are tall, skinny and gorgeous with very long legs. My damn British/ Italian genes have given me big hips, small tits and a very short inseam. But a plus...I have amazing eyebrows.

All those fantasies are appealing. Very appealing.

I feel like I'm at this constant crossroads. I don't know which way to go or what to do. In times of uncertainty in the past, I've always fallen apart or fucked up monumentally. This is the most stable I have been since 2002. I don't want to fuck up, over spend or do anything to jeopardise what I have as for now it is adequate.

I've started an escape fund. I have some money in it. I'm putting money away for my trip home, where I intend on spending some in clothes and make up. But the fund is there for if things go tits up. Or if my future is Simonless I will be protected.

I've also started to rely on my little rituals. My face are routine, for example, has been a life saver. Cleanse, tone, serum, eye cream, moisturise. Twice a day. Everyday. I love my clarins products. I feel like royalty with that ritual.

Then My make up in the morning. That ritual is soothing too, I look at my face after and I feel like a human that is worth something.

I went through a stage where I wasn't doing these rituals. I felt unworthy, ugly and hopeless. Since I've been doing these rituals I'm eating better, exercising and losing weight. I've stopped drinking alcohol so my complexion is clear. I feel like I am in control of my life even though I feel lost in what my destiny is.

I don't know where I need to be or what I want to do. So I'm going to continue in my rituals. Continue taking care of my body and hopefully I'll know where I need to be and what I need to do. Here's hoping anyway.

Until next time, Ragers and Ragettes, keep your head and standards high and your heels even higher.

Lots of love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxxxxx

Wednesday, 15 June 2016

On a New Opportunty?

Hey Ragers and Ragettes!!  It’s a cool and breezy day here in St Helens.  I’m wearing my new Bardot inspired top, my bell bottom jeans and my Converse shoes.  It’s that sort of day.

A lot of things have happened in the last few weeks.  I’ve been to Amsterdam (which I loved), I’ve dyed my hair blonde (and last night needs to be done again though...)but the biggest thing that has opportunity.

When I was waiting in the airport for Rita to show up en route to Amsterdam,  I received a phone call about a job.  I get these calls a lot but this one was different.  It was an opportunity and a half!!  I heard myself say please put me forward.  I didn’t think anything of it but when I returned from Amsterdam to be told that I had an interview I thought, shit...this is serious

The job is back in Manchester City Center.  I would be what they call a “plant” at a massive UK company’s head quarters doing what I do best.  The company that I would be working for?  It’s a company that imports fine wines....Yes you read that right...a company that imports fine wines.   I would be working 2 days a week in the wine importer’s offices and the other 3 days in the big UK company’s head office in Manchester city center.  The job?  Acting as a go between the wine importer and this big company.  I would help with planning and managing their stock.  That’s what I do best...

Now, let’s get one thing straight here.  On my list of things I have always wanted, working in the city center of a big city has been on top of the list.   I have been close a few times of nabbing a job in that capacity.

This has caused a head fuck for me.  Things in general are not the best at the moment.  The straw that broke the camel’s back for me was on Friday.  I got home from work early and did 4 loads of laundry.  I took the food shopping delivery in, cleaned the kitchen and waited for Simon to get home...and waited....and waited...and waited...and waited...finally at 7:30pm on a Friday night he waltzes in. 

Now Ragers and Ragettes, I knew that when I got into a relationship with Simon, I was going to have to make sacrifices.   Didn’t realise that I was the other woman in Simon’s life, his first love?  The business.  On Friday, I flipped my lid. I should have been getting ready to go out on a date with Simon on Friday night, not waiting in for him to come home.  I should have been picking out dresses, shoes, handbags, and such in preparation for going out on a date, not waiting for him to come home.  He makes me feel like I’m such a pain to him that he would rather be at work.  But then he waltzes in like nothing has happened.

I’ve had enough.   Don’t want this farce of a relationship.  I want to go out for dinner, go to the cinema, I want to book weekends away.  I don’t want to be the cook, the cleaner, the “mum” in this relationship.

Armed with this determination, I went into my interview on Monday rocking my black and nude shift dress, black peplum jacket, my black Ted Baker handbag and my black peep toes, that I desperately need to get reheeled.  My newly dyed locks of blonde hair pulled off my face.  I went in and answered every question professionally.  And the feedback from them?

Very positive.  I will hear next week if I have been invited to a second interview.  So I have a lot of play for and a lot to fight for.  And if I am successful, I will be packing up my things and leaving.   I have already started looking at apartments in Manchester.  I think a move back to Manchester is inevitable now.

What am I going to do?  I’m going to start looking for jobs in Manchester.  I am going to save my pennies and leave.  I deserve happiness, joy and a relationship where I am first, because I will always put my partner first. That’s not unreasonable and that is the way that it should be.

Remember Ragers and Ragettes, second best is never good enough. 

So until next time, keep your head and standards high and your heels even higher

Lots of Love,

The fabulous Betty Rage

Friday, 6 May 2016

On True Love

Hey Ragers and Ragettes!  Happy Friday to one and all!!!  It’s been a tough few weeks for me as work is picking up.  It’s ok though.  It keeps me out of trouble I suppose.

Today’s outfit is a black and grey skull printed vest with my black cardi and my bell bottoms with my retro Adidas lucky blue running shoes.   I have been going to the gym after work and I find that my beloved heels actually do more harm than good.  My calf muscles seize up and it is just not good at all.  Plus I am walking to the gym from work and then home which is about a mile and a half.  As I am trying to lose weight, I need all the cardio I can get!

As you all know I have 2 cute little guinea pigs and on social media I have joined a few groups that have guinea pig forums.  I have made a few friends on these forums.

One of the frieds I have made is a lovely Swedish man named Lars (Names changed to protect the innocent).  Now Lars and I have become friendly in...well...a plutonic friends way.

You see, Lars is a very special man.  He is engaged to his beautiful girlfriend named Hannah (again names changed). 

The reason why this relationship is special?  Hannah is in a wheelchair.  She suffers from a debilitating bone disease.  She has had this disease since birth.  It’s like a very bad case of osteoporosis. 

But you know what?  She has a wicked sense of humour. She is quick with jokes and smiles.  We have chatted online quite a few times and she laughs at her condition.   She was cracking jokes as she explained that her femur has been broken so many times and her hips are pretty much fucked.  She still smiles, jokes and gets on with it.

Lars though.   He is madly, deeply in love with Hannah.  She is his beloved.   When he looks at her, he doesn’t see a wheelchair.  He sees a perfect woman.  A woman that he loves deeply.  He once messaged me asking about which perfume to buy her as the one that she loves has been discontinued.   What was the occasion?  Well, he loves her and wants to treat her like his goddess.

As she has had this condition since birth, he saw past it and fell in love with the woman.   Her condition never even crosses his mind.   He helps her out around the house but she is fiercely independent.  He supports her in every way possible.

Lars could have picked any woman in this world.  But he chose Hannah.  He is proud of her.  On his Facebook page, there are loads of pictures of them laughing, smiling, and enjoying life.  I think of my past relationships...I have never encountered that sort of love.  Is this a rare type of love?

All I know is that ever since I started talking to this couple, I have realized how much I have taken my body for granted.  Hannah didn’t choose the body that she has.  So I have quit drinking and I am taking care of my body a lot better.  Her strength has inspired me in my workouts and eating.  

What have I learned from all this?  In this world full of dickheads, gobshites and douches, there are good men that can see past physical imperfections and are, well, good men.   For Lars and Hannah’s love is true love.  And I wish for everyone to experience this sort of love in their lives.

So until next time, Ragers and Ragettes, keep your heads and standards high and your heels even higher!

Lots of love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxxx

Thursday, 21 April 2016

On The Ending of the Series and Closure

Hey Ragers and Ragettes! 

This is kind of a part 2 of my last post about getting emotionally involved with the Show, The Killing (Or Forbrydelsen if you are Danish).  I was chatting to Suzanne about it and, like she always does, she pointed out something that was so obvious about why this show was hurting me to finish.

If you can remember, I was dating a Danish guy, Jan, before I met Simon.   It was an intense 6 week fling but it left an indelible print on my mind and heart.  

I never really confronted my feelings.  It ended strangely and abruptly.  We just kind of....stopped.  He sent a flustered text in broken English saying that he couldn’t be in a relationship and that he was moving to London for work.   I numbly texted back agreeing but I remember feeling like I was punched in the stomach.  I started seeing Simon and I used that to forget about him.

But I never did.

I still have the old texts.  I will be out somewhere and I will get a whiff of his Chanel aftershave and crumble.  I will hear a song that reminds me of that time and fall to pieces.  I asked Suzanne why I let him get under my skin? Why I still feel raw? 

The thing is, I started watching that show around the time when I started seeing him.  We’d joke and laugh about it, he’d tease me with clues about what happened and when we finished, I had just finished season 2.

I didn’t want to see Season 3.  The thought terrified me but last weekend I decided that I needed to see it.  So I started watching it...with a large glass of red wine.  It is fabulous and great (Sofie Gråbøl is seriously an amazing actress) but that feeling in the pit of stomach crept up...And when the main character fucked the strangely sexy man that was clearly hiding something I broke down and cried.  Hard. 

The sick feeling carried over from the night before to Monday.   I thought it was the program.  But after that conversation with Suzanne it fell into place. 

I felt so angry.  I am angry because it ended with him.  I am angry because he got under my skin and into my heart.  I am angry because he took my power away from me.  But I am angrier because I couldn’t be the woman that he wanted me to be.   You all know that I am a curvier lady (But that is definitely changing...I’ll blog about that in the next few weeks).  I don’t have thick lush hair, perky boobs, and a washboard stomach.   I didn’t know what he wanted.   And that is what made me angry.  I didn’t know him as well as I wanted and as I thought it did.   It was a quick, passion filled lustathon.  I didn’t get to know his favorite colour or background.  All I knew was he knew what buttons to press (mentally and physically).  When he kissed me, I melted.  His touches made every nerve in my body react in ways that I never experienced before.  He claimed to not be “experienced” but he knew what he was doing.  He just instinctively knew where and how to touch me.  It was to the point that if he told me to move back to Denmark with him, I would have dropped everything no questions asked and run after him.

Was it love?  I have no clue.  Sometimes I think it was a crazy dream.  Surely a man like that wasn’t real?

Coming to the end of the series made these feelings come to the surface. All beautiful and wonderful things do come to an end. 

Suzanne told me that with TV series that we love, when they end, you get to write the rest of the story in your mind. 

So I like to think in the story of Jan and Betty this is the ending:

Betty goes on to be successful in business.  She opens a salon, marries Simon, and travels the world.  She has a fabulous wardrobe of clothes, the ultimate shoe collection, good friends and lives happily ever after.

Jan moves back to Denmark.  He is happy and successful.  He meets a woman and they fall in love.  But every once and awhile on a cold and clear Danish night, while he sips a glass of red by the fire, he thinks back fondly to the time that he dated and made love to a crazy American in Manchester named Betty Rage....

Until next time, Ragers and Ragettes, keep your head and standards high and your heels even higher

Lots of Love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxx

Monday, 18 April 2016

On the Finishing a Series/Season of a TV Show Blues

Hey Ragers and Ragettes!   Sorry for not writing for awhile.  Life has been busy.  Loads have happened at work and sometimes you get caught up in all of it. 

A quick update, I am rocking a turquoise bob with a blunt fringe which is different for me.  The hair colour has changed my makeup and I have bought a handbag to match.   I love my hair colour.  It is fab.  I am considering going lilac in a few months.   I will obviously need a matching handbag for that!

Well today, Ragers and Ragettes, I have the worst case in history of the Monday Blues.  Why do you ask?

This past weekend, I had a “me” weekend.  The only times I left the house were to go to the gym.  I had 2 bubble baths, read a book and caught up on some TV watching.  It was pure bliss!!! 

I found the final season of the Killing (the Danish Version) and started to immerse myself into that world.  I love the show but the fact that I am 3 episodes away from the end of the series makes me sad.

 Don’t know if this is a psychological phenomenon or not, but do you all find that when you are binge watching a TV series and it is getting towards the end you feel really, really depressed?  Yea, that’s how I am feeling today.  I feel empty.  Sad. I have 3 episodes left and the series ends.  Forever.  No more Sarah Lund and her snowflake printed jumpers.  No more beautiful shots of Copenhagen. No more sexy Danish men to perv over.

Today when I woke up, I felt tired and sad.  Because I was waking up to cold, hard reality.  Back to work, back to the gym, back to trying to make my life something better.  Back to the same cluttered office and same assholes on the phones demanding stupid things. 

I had to go to my car and cry for about a half an hour, hell, I am crying now.  I feel like such a dick.  Why?  I have a lot to be happy about.  I have a lot to be grateful for but I am just not feeling it.  I feel like I want to go into my bed, pull the covers over my head and not face the world, to mourn for the reality that I will be losing.

How does one get their head of their ass and snap back into reality?  How do you beat the Monday Blues and the end of a series blues? 

I have loads coming up:  This coming weekend I am meeting up with a good friend of mine, I’m going to Amsterdam for a break in June, at work, Simon and I are buying out another business.  There is so much to be excited for...but I feel like I just want to cry, throw a pity party and cry until my face is tear stained and red.   

But I have to soldier on, snap the fuck out of this.  It’s just a TV show.  It’s make believe.  But I guess when you immerse yourself into their world it feels like you are there, a part of the action.  I winced when the main character fucked the sexy guy that you know is up to no good.  My heart raced as they uncovered more clues to solve the crime.  You get sucked into that world.  You start imagining what it would be like to be there.  You give yourself a new name, a new look.  And in my case, you have loads of great sex with loads of Danish men. You make this little new reality that is everything that your current reality isn’t.  A better job, body, wardrobe and sex life. 

It’s like the adult version of make believe.  And when you have watched it all, it feels like there is a massive piece missing.  You feel discombobulated, scared, and lonely.  That life you created is gone, and now you are back to reality. 

I know I will find another series (I have picked one out) and move on, make another character and the process will repeat itself again.

So I have wiped my tears away, found a distraction (planning my workout for tonight) and I am preparing myself to watch the final 3 episodes.  I will be ok.  I will get over this.

I think that I am in desperate need of a man up slap right now!!

Right, now that is out of my system, I wish you all a great week, Ragers and Ragettes!!   

So until next time, keep your head and standards high and your heels even higher!

Loves of Love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxxx

Wednesday, 2 March 2016

On A New Furry Friend and A Younique Problem

Hey Ragers and Ragettes!  Oh.  My.  God.  It is the second of March but snowing.  What the actual fuck?????  I’m wearing a black and beige jumper dress, my fleece lined black leggings, my knee high black 5 inch stiletto boots with my fuchsia pink lippy.  It’s seriously a shitty day.

Well the past 7 days have been crazy!  I got together with Suzanne on Thursday and took her out to lunch as it was her birthday.  Suzanne is looking fab!!!  She has had a makeover and not that she wasn’t fab before, but daaaaaammnn!!!  She looks stunning!!!!  We had a laugh, a great catch up and I left appreciating her more.

When I got home, Simon told me that we were going somewhere – he was very vague.  He put the information in the sat nav and before I knew it, we were in the Wirral picking out a Bengal kitten!!!  Yes, we have added to our furry family.   She is a diva that is for sure!!!  She’s inquisitive and sweet!!!  It takes time getting used to as she tried to steal my dinner off my plate.  She’s a prinnie indeed!!!

The big issue though, has reared its ugly head in the last 24 hours.

If you are a woman living in Britain, you have probably heard of a makeup brand called “Younique”.  This only came onto my radar last year when I started getting forcibly added to groups on Facebook.  Then my old hairdresser (that cleaned my hair up and styled it into my cute pixie crop last year) who went on maternity leave, added me into a Younique group.  As I liked her, I decided to purchase the 3D Fiber Mascara that she was promoting on her group page.   She said it was better than false lashes. 

I received my mascara.  The packaging was nice.  I tried the mascara (which cost me £21) and...well, I’d rather spend £19.50 on my benefit roller lash mascara, thank you very much!  I have tried fiber lash mascara before, from Too Faced and I didn’t like it.  This one was utter shite.  And by the way, if you want lashes that look like falsies?  Wear false lashes!  I prefer having my false lashes on, personally.

Anyway, I soon forgot the mediocre mascara then a friend of mine on Facebook, Diana, started selling Younique.  I was added, yet again, to another group.  But this time, it was different. 

I like Diana.  She is a pretty woman with an engaging smile.  I have had great conversations with her.  I didn’t realise that there was a monster in the making.

She sent me a message happily discussing Younique saying how happy she is!  This makeup is amazing, Betty!!!  I told her that I had bought the fiber lash mascara but I wasn’t too impressed with it.  She didn’t seem to take that bit of information in.  So, again, to be nice, I bought a £21 eye shadow from her.  Little did I know that this was going to set off a chain reaction of craziness.

When I was in America, Simon and I got caught up in a downpour while at the zoo.  I posted a funny picture of me looking like a drenched mess, mascara running down my face (but my lippy was perfectly in place!!!) and Diana commented, “Awwwww babe, bless you...get to somewhere warm and have a hot drink......Next time wear Younique”.


The eye shadow was delivered when I was away in America.  When I got back I eagerly opened it was a lumpy scary looking gun metal grey cream eye shadow.

Then the messages began...Betty, did you receive your eye shadow?  Yes Diana.  Have you tried it yet, Betty?  No, haven’t had an occasion to try it. 

Then every other day, the same messages.  Betty, have you tried the eye shadow.  For fuckssake!  Honestly!!!  No, Diana, I have not tried the scary looking over priced shitty eye shadow!!!!!!  (Keep in mind a paint pot eye shadow from Mac is £16.00 and that shitty eye shadow was £21.......)

Every time I posted a selfie, Diana messaged, or commented, are you wearing the eye shadow and fiber lash mascara. 


Then she asked me about hosting a virtual Younique party.  I politely declined.  Diana didn’t take that too kindly.  She tried emotional blackmail on me, but when you have a crazy Italian Mama like mine, no amount of emotional black mail will work on me. 

Then Suzanne told me that she decided to start selling Younique.    Oh.  My.  God.  I almost clawed my eyes out!!!!

But as the weeks went on, Suzanne decided that she didn’t want to sell it.

Then my real issue with Diana started. 

Basically, Suzanne was selling under Diana.  Diana only cared about Suzanne when she signed up to sell  Younique.  After that?  Diana lost interest in Suzanne.   She basically stopped being supportive or contacting Suzanne.

Let’s get something straight here, Ragers and Ragettes.  You mess with me, that’s one thing, but if you fuck with my best friend or my family?  Oh dear...what a mistake to make!!! 

Suzanne did her research and selling Younique is basically a pyramid scheme.  The makeup is over priced.  Yes, the thought behind it is great.  It empowers women, which I am all for!  From all the lovely daily updates that Diana puts on her statuses about how great the company is, if you want to sell Younique, go for it!!  I encourage you to follow your dreams.  But please, DON’T BE A DICK.  Don’t add me into groups.  Don’t bully me into trying to buy more.  Don’t emotionally black mail me into buying this.

Then a “friend” that I haven’t spoken to for ages contacted me out of nowhere....and why did she want to meet up for lunch?  She wanted to introduce me to a fabulous new makeup brand....Younique.

Since the beginning of January, I have been added to 12 Younique Facebook groups.  I have had enough.


And breathe. Now that rant is over, I am going to leave work to go and buy my new fittings for my bathroom.  (I’m changing from monochrome to fuchsia)

So until next time, Ragers and Ragettes, keep your heads and standards high and your heels even higher

Lots of love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxxx

Wednesday, 24 February 2016

On A Strange Welsh Weekend and Health Concerns

Hey Ragers and Ragettes!  It’s a cold but sunny day here in St Helens.  I’m sick of this weather.  I want spring to come back.  My fashion choices recently can be described, as per the fabulous Suzanne, as “Eskimo Chic”.  Today I am wearing a beige and black striped sweater dress, black fleece-lined leggings and my 5 inch stiletto black ankle boots.  I’m having a great lippy day today.  My red lippy is spot on, if I say so myself!

Well this month has been very busy and expensive.  I had my MOT on my little car and had to dish out £200 for repairs.  Plus my car insurance is up at the end of the month.  Awesome!  Bye bye disposable income!!  The problem is that my make up wish list is growing bigger by the day!  I discovered a new brand that I am keen to try plus a new eyebrow product that looks amazing!  Too many fabulous products, too little money!!!

This past weekend Simon and I went away to Wales in a cute little cottage for a little break...but there was a big but....the big but was the fact that this little break was with his parents for Simon’s mum’s birthday.

We left at noon on Thursday, drove all the way to Wales and when we arrived at 4pm and when we arrived, his mum was steaming drunk and I mean properly slaughtered!!  When did she start drinking?  Seriously. 

So we got ourselves settled in the little cottage and when I returned to the front room, a large glass of red wine was waiting for me.  His mum slurred, sit here Betty.  Oh God.  It was going to be a long weekend.

So this is what happened on Thursday night in a nutshell.  Simon’s mum groped my boobs, discussed how I need to have a grandchild – but she wasn’t pushing me, she really wasn’t, but I need to have a baby.  Is there something wrong with my ovaries (more on that later) and then I Facetimed Mama and Daddy Rage to let them know that I arrived ok.  Simon’s mum then grabbed my iPad out of my hands and started flirting with my Dad....seriously.  I was shocked.  How dare she????

We ate dinner and I went to bed with Simon.  We watched TV in our single beds , separated by a big chest of drawers and I had to sleep on the world’s most uncomfortable pillows.  Ace.   This was a huge mistake.

The next day we went to a charming village and walked around and then went to a cute little village pub and had a big lunch.  And the drink continued to flow.  Simon’s mum got lit up quickly. 

Back to the cottage where she poured me another large glass of red and she finished another wine box (which holds 4 liters of wine...Simon’s parents got there on the Tuesday and she finished her second wine box) and put some munchies on a plate (crisps and such)

She then proceeded to tell me that she wanted a grandchild.  No “I’m not pushing you” this time she was demanding it.  Boobs honked again, kissed all over my face and another discussion about my ovaries.  Rock on.

The Saturday I woke up early to empty wine glasses, and they must have cracked open the vodka after I went to bed as I could smell it.  I proceeded to clean up the mess.

I was starving so I opened the fridge and food.  Just alcohol and crisps.  My tummy was rumbling and I felt bloated.  Stodgy food plus alcohol isn’t a fun combination.  I desperately opened cupboards even for some bread so I can toast....nothing...

As I am weight lifting, I have to eat.  I eat 5 times a day.  If I don’t eat, I get woozy.  I need to eat!!!  I was panicking and starting to get angry.  I put the kettle on hoping the coffee will dull the hunger.

His parents woke up and drank some tea and decided that we were going to walk to a pub on the beach.  I wrapped up and put my sparkly winter hat on (Simon’s mum demanded to know why  I didn’t buy her one...uh it was from the pound shop and it was the last one?) and we started walking on the beach.  I then heard the sound of bleating.

We looked over to the left and on the hill there were 4 lambs trapped up there in the mud.  Simon bravely went up and saved them.  I have to admit I fell in love a little more with him as he rescued each little lamb.

We got to the pub, I ordered a sandwich, his mum ordered me more wine and I had to prop his mum up and help her home. 

That night I made sure that Simon and I got to be early as we had to wake up at 2am because we had to drive to the shopping channel near London for 7am to film a live show for work.  Excellent.

Needless to say, it was eventful and I was exhausted when I got back home.  But I was lucky.  My beauty therapist was looking after the guinea piggies and she kindly cleaned my whole apartment, bought us dinner and made sure the piggies were taken care of.  So all I had to do was 5 loads of laundry.

This weekend will be eventful but in a different way. 

Recently, I have been having a few worrying symptoms.  Basically the doctors have concluded it’s either an underactive thyroid or Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome.  I had a blood test and it has come back normal...I am going to go to the doctor and ask more questions because last time they did a blood test and it came back “normal” my thyroid was actually underactive on that test.

This Saturday (I know, strange) I am having an ovarian scan.  This is going to be a bit invasive.  It’s a camera that they are going to put up my foo foo to see what state my ovaries are in and if I do indeed have poly cystic ovarian syndrome.  (Thank God I had a bikini wax!)

Mama Rage and Sister Rage both had polycystic ovarian syndrome.  The result for them?  Both have had hysterectomies, my sister’s happened when she was 35.  I am not going to worry about anything until I have something to worry about.  It is in the back of my mind though.

That is what Simon’s mum was going on about.  She is demanding a grandchild.  I’m demanding that she needs to go into rehab but that won’t happen.   I don’t want to have a baby for the sake of it.  I believe a baby should be made out of love in a stable environment, financially and relationshipwise.  Both for me are not stable. Hell I could barely afford to tank my car up with petrol this morning and I don't know how I am going to purchase the food shopping this weekend!  I am old fashioned in that if I were to have a baby, I want to be married.  And if I did, I wouldn’t leave my child alone in the presence of an alcoholic like her.

So there you go.  A lot has happened and a lot to think about.  I know that no matter what happens,  I will be ok.  And when I have the scan on Saturday, I will be wearing my heels!

So until next time, Ragers and Ragettes, keep your head and standards high and your heels even higher!

Lots of Love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Monday, 1 February 2016

On A Leopard Changing His Spots...

Hey Ragers and Ragettes!!  It’s a windy and cool day in St Helens.   I’m rocking today my cream jumper with my bell bottoms and my lucky retro blue Adidas trainers.  My hair is scraped back in an Alice band because I couldn’t bother washing it and I got 3 new piercings on the top of my left ear.  It bled a lot and it hurts but when it heals, I think it will look ace!!

You know who is looking awesome?  Suzanne.  She always looks gorgeous but she has exceeded the high standard that she usually has. She has had a make over and I am envious!  She looks amazing!  She just got a cute new hair do a la Marilyn Monroe, she’s experimenting with her make up and her clothes.  I think that she looks amazing and I am so proud of her for trying new things!!  I need to take a leaf out of her book really.

I have been experimenting with new colours.  I bought a fab new handbag from Deichmann of all places.  Its cream, light pink and beige.  The shape is classic and I love it.   I have been experimenting with neutrals myself.  I have been liking the looks of the 1960's and 1970's. You know, shift dresses, bell bottoms, head scarves and neutral lips.  It's different to what I usually wear but I like it.  We are going out for a night out on  Friday and I have decided to rock a black and white playsuit, which I have never worn and it is something that scares me.  I have been working on my legs with my squats, lunges and leg press and my pins are looking pretty good, along with my butt.  So I am looking forward to wearing it with my black strappy sandals with my cute black clutch bag.  Instead of my normal red lip I might play up my eyes...who knows!!

A lot of people are embracing change this year.  On Saturday I reluctantly met up with Rita and you know what?  We actually had a nice time.  We did a lot of shopping and she seemed like the Rita that I first met.  I think that she has woken up to the fact that she needs to stop playing away and take care of her child. 

What was the wake up call for Rita?  A pregnancy scare…..a pregnancy scare in which she didn’t know who the father would  be…..

She took a test and it came back negative.  I think  this has been the wake up call that she needed. I have been keeping her at arms length as I don’t need that drama in my life.  But she is now getting her self worth back.  I am pleased.  I want her to be happy. I want the Rita that I was friends with to begin with. The funny carefree girl that would make me laugh.  The girl that would talkabout shoes, make up, handbags and if Ugg boots are an acceptable shoe choice (to me hell no!!!  Ugg boots and Crocs are in the same hall of shame!!).  I think that she is getting there but it is taking time.  Rebuilding your self worth takes time.

The biggest surprise in regards to change is Simon.   I gave him an ultimatum as you know a few weeks ago.  I didn’t know how Simon would react to this but I have to say that he has changed…for the better.  He is helping me with the cleaning and the cooking.  We have been making love more often and he even booked a weekend away in Wales for us this month.

Yesterday though, Simon well and truly surprised me in a good way.

When I went shopping in Manchester with Rita on Saturday I went and bought a new Fitbit.  My old one broke and it’s an important thing for me because of the silent alarm.  I don’t want to have my phone as an alarm because it would wake Simon and that isn’t very nice being woken up at 5:30 in the morning when I go to the gym! 

So on Saturday I purchased a new one (it cost £99.99) and I picked up some other bits in Manchester, met with Rita and had a good day.  When I was on the train platform I realized that I had lost the shopping bag with my new Fitbit in it!!  I was gutted.  I frantically started calling the places that Rita and I had been to but no luck.  £100 down the toilet.  I texted Simon and told him. 

When I got home I cuddled him and cried a bit.  I felt so stupid for losing it.

On Sunday morning, I woke up after a bad sleep and ate my breakfast and got ready to go tot eh gym for my training session.  Simon and I were sitting on the settee watching Netflix.  Simon paused the show we were watching and I got up to transfer some items into my new cute handbag (I really love it!!) and Simon walked into the spare room and said, Betty, I don’t want to argue.

I looked at him and said, what? 

Simon  then handed me £100.  He said, Betty, buy yourself a new Fitbit. 

I was shocked.  Usually Simon would have had the attitude tough luck but here he was handing me cash to buy a new Fitbit!  I couldn’t believe it!!

I hugged him and thanked him.  

They always say the “grass is always greener on the other side”.   That may be the case.  But how about watering the grass on your side of the fence?   I have been focusing on the negative.  I have been looking for the thorns instead of appreciating the roses.   It’s hard sometimes to see the wood for the trees.

Will Simon keep it up?  I don’t know honestly but so far he has showed that he wants to keep me and that he wants us to have a good life.  

I'm just going along with it, embracing his change, showing him that I appreciate it and hopefully making a happier home.

So until next time Ragers and Ragettes, keep your head and standards high and your heels even higher!

Lots of Love

The Fabulous Betty Rage xxxx