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

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 want....fashion 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

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 platinum...it needs to be done again though...)but the biggest thing that has happened....an 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

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

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

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

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”.

Wow.

The eye shadow was delivered when I was away in America.  When I got back I eagerly opened it and....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. 

NO I AM NOT WEARING THAT SHIT!!!

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.

So I am going to make this easy:  I AM NOT INTERESTED IN YOUNIQUE.  I DON’T WANT TO BUY YOUNIQUE.  PLEASE STOP ADDING ME TO YOUNIQUE FACEBOOK GROUPS.  I AM HAPPY WITH MY MAC, BENEFIT AND PEACHES AND CREAM (That’s a boss makeup brand, my new favourite!) THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

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