Woe is indeed me.

Nosewatch: all's quiet on the nose front, insofar as to say there is as yet no red lump of doom, it hasn't been knocked out, pulled or lost and is actually somewhat cute.  Maybe this really will be fourth time lucky, neh? However, it does bring back that niggling affliction of more-itis.  Piercings and tattoos really are terribly addictive. However I've ruled out more tattoos until The Toddler is older as the thought of having him clamber all over me in my sleep with new tattoos in place is quite eye watering not to mention that i'm fast running out of things to sell to fund any such frivolity.  The main problem I have with piercings is that i'm actually awfully unkeen on so many of them, i'm a fussy old bugger.  I'm personally not interested in genital doo-dahs, micro dermals leave me with a huge case of the '..but really, why?' ditto with stretching and with my ghastly crap blood i'd most likely bleed to death if i so much as toyed with the idea of my tongue (however, I must confess to finding the enforced lack of eating somewhat enticing) it really doesn't leave that much left.  I have my wobbly, crepey vile navel done, it was the second attempt and has never been taken out, ever, despite being in there for well over a decade and through three pregnancies.  I have had my lip done for around 12 years, I have four holes in one ear and six in the other and now have my nose done (for the fourth time).  I fear an eyebrow piercing would simply cry out for battle with 'pull me pull me!' to The Toddler et al.  I rather like Tragus piercings yet I have a hideous fear of the sound, I completely agree that it's simply irrational and yet I just image a huge abysmal pop and crackle which induces a need to mentally vomit.  I told you, i'm a fussy bugger.

It's cold, freezing really and despite the intial orgasmic flurry of snow it's now just cold, cold wet and icey.  I know that by now we should be passed the forced civility of discussing the weather but it's cold I tell you! Nipples like bullets. The toddler doesn't know wether to feed upon them or to hang his coat upon them.

I'm sorry for being scattier then usual lately with scant updates few and far between, however I'm awfully consumed by emo-ism lately, I fear if The Husband knew just how far advanced my emo-ism is, he'd rather fancy a divorce.  It's the two edged blade really, medication versus none medication.  Unfeeling versus feeling terribly too much.  Eyes full ice versus eyes flooding with water. Oh and what better way to tackle the fact I've gained nearly a stone, a stone i tell you! then to binge.  Excessively.  Constantly.  I am nought if not my own ruin.

I decided to re-henna my hair due to the ugly site of roots, now don't get me wrong i'm terribly partial to the grotty roots of grunge with every hair colour other then natural ones and black.  As much as I love being ginger, darker shades seem to suit my ghostly pallor and eyes (yes the eyes that I'm still not certain as to their colour having lived the majority of my life with blue/grey eyes that shine green when one cries to having The Husband and The Spawn inform me that they're actually green) So I threw in a cube of CaCa Brun for good luck into the sludge of CaCa Rouge and wha'd'ya know?  I have a rather lovely dark reddy brown that has striking copper highlights in daylight.  Success, what an awfully strange experience.  However, it was bloody irksome washing the bugger out,

Right best be off to make some ridiculously sinful cheesecake, just to keep the blubber company whilst contemplating a mug of mothers ruin, it is Gin O'Clock, right?