Category Archives: appearance

What Your Facebook Profile Picture Says About You


Your Facebook profile picture acts as the face of your online presence among your social circle, your family, your work colleagues and all those other cunts that you just can’t shake off. Therefore, it is undeniable that the average user sees this function as an opportunity to project suggestions on to the opinions that others’ have of them, and is a very accurate indicator of the sort of person you see yourself as. Unfortunately, as humans, our perception of how others’ perceive us is usually different to how we self-perceive, and ironically, the more we push a self-image on to others, the more counter-productive this act becomes; less is more.

But why did you pick your Facebook profile picture? What did you, consciously or unconsciously, want to be perceived as by others? And how do they really see you? Here’s a few of the most common types:

Facebook Profile Picture: Teenaged Girl Posing Provocatively

teenage girl

Desired Perception by Others: You are desperate to shed your ‘little girl’ image and to be viewed as attractive and mature, but not mature enough to not be a little bit whorish if you met the right person (anyone). Whilst your pose is provocative, you’ve projected innocence in your facial expression (something classy like a Marilyn Monroe pout) to create the illusion that you aren’t the whore that your choice of outfit says you are.

Actual Perception by Others: Whore.

Facebook Profile Picture Teenaged Boy Flexing Muscles

Skinny Guy

Desired Perception by Others: Like your female counterpart, you are also trying to elude your past image, suggesting to your virtual circle that you are a man. Strong, mature and intimidating, you really are a force to be reckoned with.

Actual Perception by Others: Hung like a budgie’s hardener. This image would be better portrayed if your mum wasn’t putting away your folded laundry in the background.

Facebook Profile Picture: Zany Group Photo Involving Fake Moustache

Hipsters group underware

Desired Perception by Others: Not only are you dead popular, but the fact that you can put up a public photograph of you NOT looking your absolute best- well, you’re cooler than Azealia Banks wearing a ‘Nerd’ t-shirt and drinking out of a jam jar. You are happy, carefree and modest, even though you’re actually much smarter, more intelligence and just plan better than the rest of us.

Actual Perception by Others: Hipster cunt. Take that insult and pass it around that bunch of try-too-hard kooks you call ‘homies’, too. Even though you’re white. And from Newcastle.

Facebook Profile Picture: Bingo-Wing Minimising, Holding in Stomach, Wide-Eyed Facial Expression at Saturday Night Pre-‘Going Out’ Drinks In Friend’s House

Danielle Lloyd

Desired Perception by Others: Like Kimora Lee Simmonsyou’re a Mogul, you’re a Model, you’re a Mom. In other words, you juggle a part-time job, looking after your children that you’ve each named after the Kardashians and you still have time to get your nails and ‘stenshins did every fortnight. You’re handling your shit, and you’ll be damned if you’ve got all dolled up and lost four and a half pounds with Weightwatchers and not upload a picture of how gorgeous you are to Facebook.

Actual Perception by Others: Your friend’s home décor looks like a peacock savagely stabbed a leopard to death with a stick of candyfloss.

Facebook Profile Picture: Couple


Desired Perception by Others: Look how happy we are.

Actual Perception by Others: Your kids aren’t going to have much in the looks department

Facebook Profile Picture: Picture of Sunset/Beach/Snow scene/Other travelling photo


Desired Perception by Others: Not only will people see how well-travelled and cultured you are, but the fact that you aren’t the main focus, and instead a much-smaller piece of the overall picture (you’ve obviously had to have been in the picture as proof that you were there and didn’t just steal it off Google Images) suggests that your mind is not self-centric but instead, focused on bigger, world issues. You see yourself as easy-going, philosophical and a free spirit.

Actual Perception by Others: Gimp.

Stay tuned for more, hypocritical judgements on others when I’ve definitely been guilty of the majority of these in the past (now).

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My Top Five Fashion Tips For January- Slimming Special!


I hope by now you will have noticed the recurring theme running through January’s posts that all pay tribute to the fact that January is easily the most horribly depressing fucker that ever existed. Also, The Thinking Gal is a year old this month, so I’m celebrating by being extra sour and trying not to shoot myself in the face, so that’s also why my posts are super cheerful these days.

Anyway, January is traditionally renound as a lean, healthy month where we all try our best to shed those Christmas pounds, resolve to become better versions of ourselves (denial) and prepare for the year ahead. In terms of fashion, we’re talking heavy, natural fabrics in blacks and browns in an attempt to keep warm whilst similtaneously hiding the fact that you ate like a greedy fucker over the Christmas holidays, even whilst watching the Oxfam advertisement (basically just a clipshow of starving children), without even so much as taking the wrappers off the Quality Street sweets first.

So how does one hide their festive bulge whilst maintaining fashionista status during this cold, Winter month? Here’s how:

Cloak of Invisibility

January chic.

January chic.

Throwing on a Cloak of Invisibility, or a Jimmy Saville Raincoat as it is known to those in senior positions within the BBC during the 1960s to the present day, helps you to look fabulous in a heartbeat because being invisible means no-one can see how fat you are. Dress it up, dress it down- it doesn’t matter because you’ll be invisible. And beyond being a high-fashion garment within the cartoon community, a Cloak of Invisibility has many practical uses, such as helping you stalk without consequence, providing a medium via which you can shoplift effectively and- best of all- commiting untraceable murder. Farewell, midnight police raids! So long, warrant for your arrest! And so on.

Spanx The Monkey

Considering how fat I am, I like to layer my Spanx on top of each other so that all possible flab is contained within those mummified layers. Spanx, for those of you who are are unfamiliar with the phenomenon, are basically extra-strength American Tan tights with a special ingredient- self-loathing- that hold in your muffin top to ensure that women, no matter how much gender equality evolves, will always have it in the back of their minds that they’re not as good as men, who wouldn’t dream of wearing such a thing just to appear attractive to the opposite sex. For fuck’s sake. As I was saying, layering your Spanx so that your hideousness is contained ensures that your arms and legs look disproportionately large compared to the rest of your body, which is brilliant because you then get to make up bullshit excuses for your abnormal appearance, such as that you are a part-time wrestler, all the while knowing that people are calling you a ‘weirdo’ behind your back.

With a Moo Moo here, A Moo Moo there, Here a Moo, There A Moo… Etc.

Accessorise with a mobility scooter for the ultimate in 'Dying of Diabetes' chic.

Accessorise with a mobility scooter for the ultimate in ‘Dying of Diabetes’ chic.

Moo Moos, like the one Homer Simpson wore in the episode of The Simpsons when he deliberately puts on weight so he could work from home, are not only the hottest garment among the ‘over 55 female Traveller Community’ (such a stylish bunch), but are also deceptively cosy, drawing heat from your inner thighs as they rub together while you walk from your mobility scooter to your bed to illustrate you immobility to someone slightly less fat than you while filming for Channel 4’s Supersize v Superskinny. Moo Moos come in an array of unflattering Hawaiian prints, and are guaranteed to grab attention from your local news station the next time they are secretly filming members of the public as part of a Polyfiller-style piece on obesity to fill up the news slot on a slow news day. Expect to see your muffin top featured, you trendsetter, you!

A Great Pair of Heels

‘I like my men like I like my heels- tall, black and the most coveted accessory in the room,’ said Marilyn Monroe. No, she didn’t, I just made that up, but that’s exactly the sort of shit that clutters up my Facebook wall like a turd that just won’t flush. I personally spend my days trudging around in a pair of sodden Converse like the downtrodden bastard that I am, but women who wear heels as part of an everyday routine terrify me. For one, their arses must be made of steel, and they would definately win in a staring contest because the rest of us can’t look them in the eye. But for 2013, why not carry a pair of heels around in a carrier bag? If anyone points at your regular shoes and tells you they aren’t feminine enough, you can whip your heels out and beat them around the head with the pointy bit for a while, because that looks mighty fucking satisfying.

I Saw the Sign

No creepy bastard should be without this.

No creepy bastard should be without this.

If all of the above don’t help you to feel slimmer and more beautiful, then there’s something fucking wrong with you. However, I have one last trick up my sleeve for banishing those January blues- a big massive sign with the words ‘Fuck off and leave me alone’ painted on it with your own blood. No-one is going to say shit about you when you’re carrying that around. Of course, ‘Fuck off and leave me alone’ is optional (your own blood isn’t)- you can write whatever the fuck you want as long as it a) makes you look like a irrational mentalcase capable of GBH and b) is hilarious and endearing. Other suggestions include, ‘It doesn’t matter what you think. Does it?’, ‘Please like me’ and ‘I may be ugly but I can make a cracking roast dinner and therefore, can be your live-in girlfriend who hides in the cupboard when you have company round. Just tell me you’ll think about it’. Remember: in order to pull of wearing a sign, you may need extra accessories to achieve you desired look, such as a portable CD player playing Christina Aguilera’s Beautiful on loop, a knife or a dead cat strapped into one of those contraptions that smug bastards carry their embarrassed babies around in.

Rock on, fashionistas. Etc.

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How To Apply Fake Tan

Gotta love looking translucent.

Too poor to go on holiday and looking pastier than Patsy Kensit being dry humped by a raw turkey crown? Shit one.

January, the month when suicide numbers hit their annual peak, is a continuous shitstorm of crap. And when it comes to having a sunkissed glow, you’re fucking kidding yourself if you think that’ll be happening anytime soon. No, such thoughts should be relegated to more suitable times of the year, such as the hour of Summer bestowed upon us sometime in May.

However, help is at hand when it comes to faking a tan, thanks to endless fake tanning goods propped up in supermarket shelves like the product equivalent of the Geordie Shore cast- promising to give you a Ronseal Wood Varnish glow should you buy, or punch your fuckin’ lights oot if you don’t. Fake tan, I imagine, is just a little bit rough.

But how do you achieve a natural shade that enhances you without looking too orange? You fucking don’t, alright. But I’m going to slap the bastard on anyway and get drunk quickly so I don’t notice the streaks and will happily fight anyone who dares to look in my direction.

What the fuck are you lookin' at?

What the fuck are you lookin’ at?

Here’s the lowdown on applying fake tan:

Trial and Error

Choosing the right tan is key- therefore, be prepared to try out lots of products before settling on the right one. Do this on the cheap by going to your local Semi-Chem and hotfooting it straight to the non-branded tanning wipes that look like they could also double up as toilet roll when you go camping. Go home and vaguely wipe your limbs with your purchase, taking care to vomit into a designated area, such as a toilet or bin, rather than all over yourself in reaction to the smell of the ‘scented’ wipes. Wait ten minutes and- hey presto- your beige-and-white striped body looks like a mobile version of Ralph Lauren’s Homeware Collection for Spring/Summer Every Year Since It Began, seeing at it looks the fucking same every time the bastard thing comes out. Now, having achieved an adequately stripey, Pikey look, sling your greasy mane into a BumBun (TM), and off you go to Debenhams where you can shoplift luxury brand tanning items to try without repercussion because the security team is unlikely to approach you for fear of being bitten. And contracting HIV.


To achieve an even finish, one must exfoliate to get rid of dry patches and ensure that skin is smooth and even before applying product. Take an industrial sander and carefully apply to soles of feet, which have built up enough hard skin to achieve flipflop status in their own right, and try to close your mouth as much as possible so bits of hard skin don’t accidentally fly into it during sanding and make you die from shuddering. After your feet have been cut to ribbons, apply to industrial sander to elbows, knees and other crusty bits, carefully sweeping up discarded skin-bits to use as snow in next year’s nativity play at your local church. Finally, on delicate areas, such as your face and neck, opt for a dentist’s drill with bits of old carpet glue to it for that ultimate sheen. Failing that, don’t worry about exfoliating because nobody bothers to do it anyway.

A Hand’s Turn

Remember to take great care with your hands when applying tan, as they absorb product quickly and can turn a deep shade of orange within moments of contact with fake tan. Use gloves to combat the dreaded ‘tan hand’ fiasco. Tramp’s Tip: just slap it on without gloves and if anyone asks, tell them you’re best friends with Victoria Beckham and you’ve just returned from an afternoon of feeling her implants.

Victoria Beckham: Keeping it as real as Rev Run sitting in his big fucking mansion pretending to be ghetto.

Victoria Beckham: Keeping it as real as Rev Run sitting in his big fucking mansion pretending to be ghetto.

Care When Drying

Letting your tan dry after application is vital in getting an even finish. So no going outside naked and jumping in puddles, unless it’s absolutely an emergency. Or you want to achieve a nice Vitiligo look. Or you’re a big fan of Michael Jackson and wish to show your undying support for that time he lied about skin-lightening surgery. Or your desired shade of tan is ‘Pale and Dirty Bastard‘.

Stay in the Shade

Once you’ve got that first layer down, it’s all about building up the perfect shade that’s just right for you. Go to B&Q and get yourself a nice portable wood varnish shade chart, and use that as a bible in building your colour from ‘Moments from Asphyxiation’ to ‘Good News, Mr Jones- We’ve Decided To Turn Off Your Wife’s Life Support Machine Today To See What Happens. Don’t Worry, We Reckon She Has A Good Chance Of Living’. And beyond that, it’s up to you. Dare you go as far as ‘Cocksure Whore’, ‘Leather Bag Slag’ or even ‘My Electricity Bill Is Zero Because I’m My Own Lamp Vamp’. Or will you keep it mellow with ‘Michelle Heaton’s Oranger Mate’? The choice is yours*!

Chelsy Davy: A Cunt with a Stupid Tan

Chelsy Davy: A Cunt with a Stupid Tan

*Unless you’re still using those non-branded wipes, in which case, you may as well be drinking bleach. Good luck with that one.

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How To Be A Gentleman

Recent television comedy hit, How To Be A Gentleman, is the sort of gripping stuff that you stick on while you record something else that you actually want to watch so that you can later fast-forward through the advertisements- it’s that great.

But the sentiment behind the show is spot on- where have all the gentlemen gone? Considering a recent survey concluded that, aside from ‘a rich man without family who only has two weeks to live’, ‘a gentleman’ is considered optimum marriage material for women today who still don’t think marriage is a load of bollocks.

So there you have it, guys- women want gentlemen. But how does one achieve ‘gentleman‘ status? Are you the sort of male who puts bros before hos? Do you have two mobile phones- one for everyday use, and one for drug dealing and general cheating on your main bitch? And do you like to hit it and quit it?

If you answered ‘yes’ to any of the above- this guide is for you. Here’s how to be a gentleman:

Personal Hygiene

A gentleman must maintain excellent personal hygiene standards at all times. This can be achieved by spritzing half a bottle of Lynx into your bath water, then dousing yourself in the other half when you’ve finished bathing. Don’t forget to spray some on the arse of your trunks too- women think this is charming, and definately won’t make fun of you to their mates behind your back.


Being committed to a refined appearance is key to being a gentleman. Just look at Scott Disick– he dresses well, his attire is perfectly pressed, he even has a cane to complete many an outfit. It doesn’t matter that behind that twat-exterior, he’s definately killed a few women is his time, because he looks the part. Choose outfits that similtaneously say, ‘Can I buy you a drink, gorgeous?’ and ‘I would like to represent myself in this court of law, your honour. I may not have a law degree, but I certainly did not spike that woman’s drink- she consented to that shot of rohynol and the truth will speak for itself.‘ *Creepy sneer.


A gentleman always courts a lady in a dignified and respectful manner. Take your good lady to the Burger King of her choosing, and always remember to pull out her chair (if not bolted to the ground), patting her on the arse as she sits down. Remember to order on behalf of your company- selecting a salad so your date feels hefty and embarrassed by the hint that they are a general dodger of salads. A gentleman always pays, but with the expectation of equal rights, this has the potential to be awkward. Take the sting out of the situation by rolling up a few notes and stuffing them down the cleavage of your lady friend, saying, ‘You’ve earned that, petal’. Make sure to allow your hand to linger around the cleavage area for an inappropriate amount of time, saying, ‘Just getting my money’s worth’  if your date looks uncomfortable.


A gentleman can be courteous by asking questions to acquaintances, both male and female, building rapports and forging friendships wherever he can. For example, while most adults would write off teenagers as being immature, try to strike up a conversation with your younger counterparts and find common ground. You could say ‘Oh, your studying GCSE double-award Science? Tell me, how does one make chloroform in a kitchen sink, and how long would it knock your victim out for? And is there anyway to erase fingerprints? I’m just asking for a friend. I’ll give you a tenner if you pretend this conversation never happened.’


A gentleman is always respectful and helpful when possible. When he encounters a pregnant lady, it is advisable to not only open a door for her, but also say something to the tune of, ‘Your pregnancy weight hasn’t wrecked that arse. I’d still give you an eight-and-a-half’, so that the lady feels respected yet attractive.


A gentleman never motherfucking swears. Even if he drops a fucking great big bloody large bastard of a piano on his cunting foot and it hurts like a fucking motherfucker, he still smiles and doesn’t acknowledge that the bastard has just bastarding crippled him. Fuck. Etc.


A gentleman steers clear of political, religious and other potential controversial topics so as not to offend or upset anyone. If others persist in bringing up controversial views, the power of ‘shrugging it off’ is a virtue. Your company may say things like ‘Man up, you prick’ or ‘You aren’t a real man’, but laughing it off and not getting involved in petty arguments will ultimately be more pleasing for all involved.

And you can torch that mother’s house later on.

Where’s my petrol?

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How To Be A Heartbreaker

Recently, I wrote about how to mend a broken heart for all of you loveless Lucilles out there who can’t seem to tie that love-lasso tight enough in the neck area to send your victim to sleep (what a waste of Rohypnol). But what about those of you who don’t have a broken heart, but rather, would like to be a heartbreaker? 

Would you like to be a modern day Arthur ‘The Fonz’ Fonzerelli? Does the thought of aggravated sexual assault leave you all shook up, not shaken up? And when it comes to love, are you too cool for school or erm… not… that cool. Sorry, I choked under the weight of all these puns.

Here are my tips for being a heartbreaker.

Thou Shall Do The Face

In the song, When You’re in Love with a Beautiful Woman by Dr. Hook, he describes his relationship with a good-looking woman, which over time, causes him to ‘watch her eyes’ and ‘look for lies’. Assuming he isn’t a doctor of optometry and such acts are not routine medical procedures, the song describes how one’s heart is easily broken when in love with someone beautiful.

Therefore, in order to be a heartbreaker, you need to cover up that nasty and invest in some rhinoplasty, and other surgical procedures that didn’t rhyme there. If you aren’t a natural beauty and think inner beauty is more important, buy yourself a copy of Heat and try to survive an hour without crying, then putting a sheet over your face and refusing to take it off until you get cheek implants, or other nonsensical vital surgery. Think of surgery as an investment, as you can always con your money back from one of the dirty old pensioners lurking about the Playboy mansion pretending to enjoy chasing after young women but, given the chance, would much rather prefer to swap that Viagra for a night of checkers and ‘accidentally’ knocking down small children while clumsily reversing around a supermarket aisle end on their mobility scooter.


Thou Shalt Not Let Thyself Go

What’s the point in having the face of a delightful angel, and the body of an Angel Delight fifteen-packet-a-day addict? In order to be a heartbreaker, your body needs to be in the best shape possible, which can be achieved in one of two ways: A) Liposuction and other surgeries- which is costly and require some investment or (my favourite) B) Diet and exercise. Diet and exercise is no fun when conducted safely, at a reasonable pace and with realistic expectations. No- instead, you must go full throttle at an exercise routine; pulling a car on a rope, running marathons daily and listening to Eye of the Tiger on repeat as you flail wildly around the gym. And how do you keep your energy up whilst in training? Certainly not with food, because your diet only consists of water, carrots and the odd rice cake on your birthday. Yay, this is so worth it.

It doesn’t matter if starvation and burn out diet and exercise leaves you more irritable than a bear that has just been woken from a deep sleep by being poked repeatedly in the testicles with a sharp twig- if you’re thin and beautiful, people won’t care if you’re a total cunt.

Thou Shalt Not Waste Time Being Personable

To reiterate my last point, being thin and beautiful makes you exempt from the expectation of possessing a personality. Just look at Angelina Jolie– if she looked like Dawn French, she would have been shot long ago. So, just work on that outer beauty for now, petal. This is great advice.

Just remember: Inner Beauty is Not Your Duty- Pretty Exterior Makes You Superior. Repeat this mantra every morning to yourself in the mirror, or when anyone calls you a cheap whore in public and shouts that you were only after their money. Bastard.

Thou Shalt Not Give A Fuck About Others

In order to be a heartbreaker, one must break hearts- that means people are going to get hurt. But hey, who cares, right? Have you ever watched an action film in which thousands of civilians were carelessly killed and then never referenced again because the whole film centres around the protagonist being hailed as a hero in the end? Yeah, well that’s kind of what this is like.

My suggestion for not giving a fuck about others is to drink a lot until you’re numb and dancing around a stripper pole. Or if all else fails, rebrand milking people dry for their money in exchange for sex and companionship by telling people that ‘Beauty is Power’ and other shit like that. Here’s to you, Kimora Lee Simmons. You shhhhlllaggg.

So, to sum up- Look good and have little to say except a prompt ‘Fuck off’ to anyone who calls you out on your shit.

I’m going to be reincarnated as a toilet.

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Exercise Move of the Month- Going to Asda on a Saturday Afternoon

Hello, fitness enthusiasts! It’s time for another installment of Exercise Move of the Month. This month’s exercise move is brought to you by borderline poverty and the rise in corporate power dictating our lives, resulting in the majority of the general public having to do their food shopping at the local bastard Asda on Saturday afternoons.

If you’ve never been to Asda on a Saturday afternoon, lucky fucking you. If you have, then you’ll know that this exercise move is an intense cardiovascular workout, but more so, gets your blood pumping as you fear a stress-induced stroke coming along. Fantastic! Here’s how to do it:

Step 1

Run out of food on a Friday night. Realise you need to go to Asda tomorrow and it’s going to be fucking bunged. Contract diarrhea due to anxiety, which is going to get your metabolism going. Already, you should feel your facial muscles start to work as you start to feel permanent stress wrinkles forming and you develop a facial tic.

Step 2

Get in the car and drive ten feet to your local Asda, because in Asda, walking is frowned upon. Drive around the carpark looking for spaces, of which there are, unsurprisingly, none. Shout obscenities at a man who parks in a disabled spot who vacates his car with no physical disability. Feel your arms burn as you shake your fists at strangers and give lots of people the finger. Find a spot and rejoice. Vacate your car and feel a stranger attack you from behind while shouting, ‘You stole my space, you schlllaaaaggg!‘ Have a mini-wrestling match with said stranger, and feel the fat melt away.

Step 3

You are forced to use a basket as there are no trolleys and all of the disability scooters are in use by the obese, while the enderly have no option but to walk annoyingly and block off entire aisles. Incorporate yoga into your workout as you try to breathe and count to ten in an effort to stop yourself from punching an old woman shuffling slowly in front of you while shouting to her friend, ‘Ethel, what time does the bingo start?’.

Step 4

Make it round the vegetable, meat and dairy aisles in double quick time, working out your legs and torso as you twist and wriggle your way through crowds of hapless cunts. Apply the principles of boxing to your workout as you jab your hands through the crowds to grasp the items on your shopping list. Float like a gymnast, cartwheeling around baby vomit, smashed jars of Piccalilli and pensioner piss lurking on the floors that no-one has bothered to clean up.

Step 5

Make it round the shop with half of your desired items in your basket (the other half were out of stock) and head for the checkouts. Realise that there will be a wait of at least four months until you can purchases your items. Work out your upper arms, thighs and torso by constructing a makeshift teepee or tent equivalent out of stale baguettes cooked fresh today in the bakery aisle to live in until you can purchase your items next season. Contemplate singing Kumbaya with your fellow shoppers to keep everyone’s spirits up but, seeing as they are a pack of absolute bastards, give your facial muscles a good workout instead by sobbing softly to yourself.

Step 6

Many moons later, pay for your items and leave the shop. Employ breathing techniques as you are forced to hold your breath for a good minute-and-a-half to avoid dying of lung cancer from passive smoking as you are caught up in a cloud of smoke from people in glorified/actual pyjamas who insist upon ignoring the ‘No Smoking’ signs and/or the law that dictates that you cannot smoke in the fucking lobby of a shopping centre.

Step 7

Miraculously make it home unscathed without hitting a single car in the notoriously tight car park. Drag your waterless sack of cells and skin into the house. Look through your bags and realise that even though you won that smackdown for the last bag of potatoes, that priest snuck into your basket while you weren’t looking and took them anyway. Grab a knife, get in your car, and head back to Asda.

And… rest! What a workout!!


Lose Weight the Easy Way with the Lemon Detox Diet!

The Lemon Detox Diet rose to fame when Beyonce adopted it to slim down for her role in Dreamgirls, with which she lost 20lbs in two weeks. The diet comprises a concoction of maple syrup, lemon juice, water and cayenne pepper, downed periodically, and nothing else- effectively making this a 60-calorie per day plan, rather than the 2,000 to 2500 that most doctors recommend for the average person.

Yes, it is difficult to adhere to, but reportedly produces excellent results. This month, I am going to follow the Lemon Detox Diet for 7 days (the recommended duration for Lemon Detox Diet beginners), and keep a record of my results, so that you, too, can lose weight and feel great.

Day 1

Breakfast- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Lunch- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Dinner- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Day 1 of the diet has been easier than I first anticipated. Yes, there isn’t a whole lot of nourishment involved, but I felt less bloated as the day elapsed and had more energy in the afternoon. At one stage, I felt a manic high to the extent that I went outside and kissed a complete stranger just because the voices in my head instructed me to. The stranger had me arrested and when I resisted, I was tazered by a police official- but I only got a caution, probably because I’ve lost a stone already and everybody wants a piece.

Day 2

Breakfast- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Lunch- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Dinner- A DELUXE glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water (DELUXE version recipe: A whole bottle of maple syrup, drank straight, and then a good cry about life)

After my manic high of yesterday, I must admit that I felt slightly lower today. While I have more energy, I’m also feeling on the cusp of a nervous breakdown. Weighed myself and have lost 6lbs already, after just two days on the Lemon Detox Diet, but then I lifted the scales and threw them out them out the window, severely injuring my elderly neighbour. Accompanied neighbour to the hospital for treatment and tried to suffocate her with an inflatable headrest in the ambulance. No idea why. Then I went around the children’s ward shouting, ‘Santa isn’t real’. Also starting to worry that when I go to jail, I’ll be so thin and gorgeous from doing the Lemon Detox Diet that I will surely be one of the prison bitches. Can’t sleep with the worry of this.

Day 3

Breakfast- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Lunch- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Dinner- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Weighed myself and lost another 16lbs since yesterday. At least, that’s what happened in the weird hallucinogenic dreams I’ve been having, which is brilliant because it’s kind of like going to see a 3D film, without the expense of leaving my bed. Coincidentally, that’s where I have spent the entire day due to blinding migranes- have no idea why I’m getting them, must be the weather. Delightfully though, while I’m now completely bedridden, my pyjamas looks fantastic on me. Ordered myself a medical drip online so that I don’t have to waste energy on lifting a cup of dinner to my mouth. Winning.

Day 4

Breakfast- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Lunch- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Dinner- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

I think I’ve finally arrived at a realisation that I don’t need food- I’m just a stronger human being in general now. Got my drip installed and fashioned a spare carrier bag into a colostomy bag to collect waste, seeing as I can’t seem to get out of bed anymore. Really strange that I can’t seem to move from bed. Perhaps, subconciously, I don’t want to outshine all other women out in public with how amazing I look. Lost another 8lbs today, for a total of 30lbs in 4 days. Feel like the Chuck Norris of diets.

Day 5

Breakfast- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Lunch- A small insect

Dinner- Jail food

Disasterous day. Was doing well on my diet but coughed due to an inexplicable virus I seem to have contracted, causing me to accidentally inhale and swallow a small insect that was living under my bed. This sudden influx of food sent me on a massive sugar high, and drunk on insects and being a supermodel, I paraded through my local Tesco Metro in a bikini with four glowsticks and the word ‘Fajita’ painted across my torso. Eventually, a concerned shopper interrupted my breakdancing to enquire if I was feeling ok (probably because he admired my new figure), and I bit him. His coat smelt a bit like chicken chow mein, and it took me back. But now I can’t go back. Spent the night in jail.

Day 6

Breakfast- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water (Jail version: substitute the maple syrup, lemon and cayenne pepper for nothing)

Lunch- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water (Jail version: substitute the maple syrup, lemon and cayenne pepper for nothing)

Dinner- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water  (Jail version: substitute the maple syrup, lemon and cayenne pepper for nothing)

Spent today in jail after assaulting a man in Tesco Metro yesterday. Unable to access all ingredients to fully adhere to diet, but have chosen adequate substitutes. Tried to do a Shawshank mid-afternoon but the spoon broke so used one of my jutting ribs to make a dent in the wall. Realised this will take me ages. Thankfully, was able to shimmy between the bars in my cell at dusk and escaped. Went home and made myself a midnight feast of three shakes of pepper. Yum.

Day 7

Breakfast- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Lunch- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Dinner- A glass of maple syrup, lemon, cayenne pepper and water

Final day of the diet was easier than expected, as I have started to rationalise the constant migraines as a punishment for being less worthy than everyone else. Weighed myself and was delighted to discover that have lost of total of 72lbs in 7 days on the Lemon Detox Diet– how wonderful! Going to celebrate tomorrow by buying a babygro and wearing it as a playsuit, as I am now a size ‘2’. Sorry, size ‘aged 2’ (and above). Honestly, I’m getting annoyed already that three year old children are the same size as me- feel so fat. Doing another week of the diet to slim down to size ‘aged 6-8 months’.

Well, that was my week on the Lemon Detox Diet. I lost 72lbs, but gained a whole new perspective on life.  Sidenote: If you see me on Crimewatch, it was all just a misunderstanding. No need to ring the hotline… Good luck on your journey towards health and happiness!

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My Top Five Fashion Picks For May- Rainy Day Special

After the popularity of My Top Five Fashion Picks for Spring/Summer 2012 (here), I was surprised to see that I have become quite the trendsetter and have spotted many people taking inspiration from my fashion picks. Why, just last week I was shopping and spotted a few sacks of potatoes working the burlap sack trend I had pioneered in my last post. Whilst being mugged a few days ago, my attacker was a vision in Sport-Lux, wearing an Adidas tracksuit and four coin rings- fabulous! I’ve even had some influence in the glamorous world of television, as many variations of my LWD of choice was featured on More 4’s My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding. Good times.

Anyway, seeing as the weather is so unpredictable these days, here are my top five fashion picks for this rainy May:

Under my Umbrella-ella-ella-Hat

Function, fashion and fun rolled into one with this zany Screech from Saved By The Bell inspired creation. This beauty allows you to keep dry while freeing up both hands to give people the finger for laughing at your ridiculous hat. This hat can be dressed up with your head, or dressed down by putting it on your feet and pretending you’re standing up in a little tiny boat.

Return of the Mac

See what I did there? Macs are perfect in-between attire for days when it’s cold, but too warm for winter woolies, or so I’m told. Accessorise yours with being smug and sneering at people like myself who are wearing glorified pyjamas while out for dinner. You’re more of a worthy human being than everyone else.

Be Up Shit Creek- With a Paddle!

Update any outfit with a practical yet charming paddle, perfect for beating Mother Nature over the head with and rowing your way to safety lest we drown with all this rain. In addition, this could be an ideal accessory for toughening up dresses for a night at the club, while also helping to prop you up when you get too drunk on vodka and the belief that your dancing isn’t as tragic as you once thought.

Lumberjack Shirts

It wouldn’t be a ThinkingGal fashion blog without a Big ’80s Lesbian (my personal style) tribute, and given the rainy, humid weather, no outfit would be complete without a men’s lumberjack shirt tied around your ample waist. Queen of this style era, Aileen Wuornos, was regularly spotted sporting this fashion gem. Beyond looking great and not-at-all butch, lumberjack shirts are great for concealing your weapon, wiping blood and/or evidence from the scene of the crime, and keeping you warm while hiding in the forest until the search party start to give up hope, before being easily and quickly disposed of in a river, along with the body. Oh, and it keeps you dry in the rain too. Convenient and chic!

Leopard Print Leggings

Nothing to do with the rain- I just like pretending I’m half leopard, half human. Or at very least, someone who eats the crusty bit around the top of a bottle of Heinz Tomato Ketchup– which these leggings just scream.

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Do the Raw Food Diet- And Lose Weight Today!

While I’m not a fan of fad diets as they are generally unsustainable, from time to time I find myself craving fresher, less stodgy food- particularly after Christmas or holidays, as we all tend to indulge a bit more than usual. When I get these cravings, I know it’s time to put myself on the Raw Food Diet.

The Raw Food Diet is a lifestyle choice in which the only food consumed is uncooked, or cooked below 47 degrees Celcius (118 Farenheit). That means an abundance of vegetables, fish and natural foodstuffs, and no ready meals, chemical-laded foods and even meat (unless you like it raw). Generally, cooking food extracts nutrients, and therefore, the Raw Food Diet is based on the belief that the more simplistic and akin to it’s natural state food is, the better it is for you.

I like to do the diet for a week at a time, and then reintroduce my normal diet gradually, so as not to shock my system, which helps me to lose weight and feel better. Here is a typical week, including recipes and my own thoughts, so that you can do the same:

Day 1

Breakfast: A carrot

Lunch: A carrot, and then another half of a carrot

Dinner: Another bastard carrot

Late night snack: An Indian takeaway from Taj Palace

Day 1 of the diet is usually the most sparse food-wise, seeing as I’m feeling immense back-fat shame. I usually survive on carrots while lying to myself that I don’t need food ever again. The only reason I had the takeaway is because my body was dry-retching with hunger, and to be fair, the Taj Palace was on the news the other week for giving people food poisoning so it’s likely they’ve undercooked my food anyway. If it makes me involuntarily vomit, then technically I’ve consumed negative calories while not being bulimic- so it’s all good.

Day 2

Breakfast: Nothing

Lunch: A carrot

Dinner: Carrot hot-dogs, which is basically a carrot wrapped in a lettuce leaf

Back on the wagon after that 4,000 calorie slip-up I had last night. Starved myself all morning to make up for it, which is definately the way to go. Had another carrot and then realised that I miss the fun of cooking so invented carrot hot-dogs (see above for recipe) and just entered a new realm of delight. Can’t see me having cooked food ever again, frankly. Loving life.

Day 3

Breakfast: Carrot Special K, which is just bits of carrot swimming in water

Lunch: A carrot

Dinner: Luxurious carrot hot-dogs, which is the same as above carrot hot-dog recipe but replace lettuce for four slices of bread (don’t worry, I left a lot of carrot on my plate to balance out the calories)

Late night snack: Four 2 litre bottles of Tesco Value Cider, two packs of cigarettes and a carrot dipped in lard

Empirical research suggests that Day 3 is the most difficult day of a week-long cleanse as it is just prior to the mid-way point. Well, actually I just made that up, which is pretty great considering I’m all sorts of drunk and I’m fairly certain I’m about to die of malnutrition. Had a carrot dipped in lard just to keep me grounded, yo.

Day 4

Breakfast: A carrot, which I vomited up so put me down for nothing

Lunch: One of everything on McDonalds’ Saver Menu, a block of cheese in it’s entirety and nine paracetemols

Dinner: A carrot

Unfortunately, while the Raw Food Diet claims to do wonders for inner health, sometimes my body finds it hard to adapt and this morning, I inexplicably woke up feeling quite queasy. After my breakfast carrot came back up which left me with a wealth of calories to spare, I decided to change my diet slightly to incorporate some new healthy choices. McDonalds’ Saver Menu is notorious small in portion, and therefore, having one of everything is a guilt-free choice. Plus, their new marketing campaign is always saying things like ‘healthy’ and ‘organic’, and they wouldn’t lie about something like that. Had a nice carrot to top-off a day of virtue.

Day 5

Breakfast: A carrot

Mid-morning snack: A solitary cream cracker

Mid-morning snack: A cake

Mid-morning snack: Four mini-snickerses

Mid-morning snack: The end of a cigarette that I fished out of a public bin and smoked

Mid-morning snack: Three blueberry maxi-muffins and their edible wrappers, which, as it turns out, weren’t edible

Lunch: Half a carrot

Dinner: Roast rack of carrot with carrot mash, served with baby carrots on the side and topped with carrot foam

No-one said the Raw Food Diet would be easy. After days of living off raw and partially cooked food, you, like me, may find yourself craving your old vices and it is perfectly fine to allow yourself a treat in moderation. This is why I smoked a stranger’s cigarette end rather than having a whole one. As for the other snacks, I did fourteen-and-a-half minutes of ‘Dance it off with Vicky Binns’ to burn those calories off, and then some. Probably.

Day 6

Breakfast: A tub of butter and a family-sized box of smokes

Lunch: A horse

Dinner: The entire ready meal aisle of Asda, followed by the contents of the really depressing part of Asda’s freezer aisle full of frozen pies

It is widely known fact that having a once-weekly ‘cheat day’ helps you to achieve longevity in a strict lifestyle change. Even though I had managed to make it to Day 6 of a Raw Food Diet week without cravings, I thought I would benefit from having a break, not that I need it. However, while I have allowed myself a day off, please note I did not have snacks, as it would just be too much for a picker like me.

Day 7

Breakfast: A carrot

Lunch: A carrot

Dinner: A carrot

As today was the final day of my Raw Food Week, I gave it one final push to ensure I avail of the maximum health benefits afforded after enduring such a difficult task. Feeling better already, and have decided give up cigarettes and smoke carrots as a healthy alternative in future. While I have enjoyed this week, it was challenging and difficult at times. I’m so proud to have completed my cleanse successfully and urge others to give it a go- your body will thank you.

Update: Just found out I’ve got diabetes. Getting my arm amputated this week, which is crap because it’s the arm I use to smoke carrots with. Never mind.


The Art of Flirting

There are many interpretations of the act of flirting; for some, it’s a harmless way to interact with someone on a friendly level, for others, it’s an easy way to get to know a potential romantic interest and make a love connection. Yes, I am aware of how creepy I sound right now.

The first thing to remember when intending to flirt is that preparation is key- you need to make sure you are flirt-ready. Have a look at yourself in the mirror and hold back negative thoughts such as, ‘you disgust me’ and ‘your life amounts to nothing’- you know, the usual. Be kind yourself. After all, you’re a four at best and no-one knows what you cry yourself to sleep about every night. Give me your best smile. No, that’s way too much, you look like a serial killer, reign it back in. Ok, good enough. Go get ’em, tiger!

When you reach your desired flirting venue, lower your expectations adequately so that you don’t humiliate yourself by aiming too high. Probably best to pick someone mousy, frumpy and nervous, as not only are these people grateful for the attention, they also make excellent partners on the receiving end of mental abuse later on in your relationship.

Before you approach your chosen victim, make sure to check your own body language to ensure you look appropriately comfortable and relaxed. Let’s face it, you’re pretty creepy, so try not to be yourself too much. If you’re a gal, hunch your shoulders to create the illusion of both a lopsided cleavage and an air of prostitution. Fellas, there is very little you can do other than to fashion all banknotes on your person into a fan and casually pretend to cool yourself down as you approach that special someone. The ladies love that.

Initiating conversation is important, as otherwise, you may be perceived as a sexual nuisance. Start by making your target’s skin crawl by throwing them a perverted chat-up line while wiggling your eyebrows. This will usually lead into a nice, awkward conversation. Don’t worry if your victim is rolling their eyes- you can make them pay in the currency of domestic violence later on in your relationship.

Remember to make eye contact throughout the conversation with your victim, as this is not at all creepy and intimidating. Don’t ever look away as this will give your victim unspoken permission to get out now while they still have the chance. It’s tough to maintain creepy eye contact but dammit, do you want to see this through or not? Moments like this are the foundation for the bridge and chorus of I Think We’re Alone Now by Tiffany, and if you ever want to waltz around your sex dungeon to this song with your chosen one, then keep staring, soldier!

While keeping up eye contact that penetrates the soul to dominate your mate into submission of a lifetime of mediocrity and broken dreams, you may want to share a few details about yourself. Go light on the stories about how you killed every one of your childhood pets, and if you must divulge such anecdotes, less of the maniacal laughter. Appropriate conversation includes how the thought of turning into your parents keeps you up at night, any weird fetishes you may or may not have (I threw in ‘or not’ as a courtesy, you big sicko) and how you’re too frightened to get that lump checked out by a medical professional lest it is not benign. Perhaps you could also start sobbing, too.

From time to time, give yourself a break from bearing your soul by asking your victim questions about themselves, so you get a better idea of what you would like to later change about them, or throw back in their face during an inevitable argument. While they are chatting, make sure to give them your full attention, which can be achieved by nodding like a crazed seal, invading their personal space and occasionally shouting ‘Preach!‘ while throwing your hands up in a racially inappropriate way.

After you have both conversed, it is likely that you, desperate for a mate, have read too much into it and their attempts to get you to go away have fallen on deaf ears. It’s time to close the deal, and make your flirting partner a long-term fixture in your life and sex dungeon. Don’t be afraid to put yourself out there at the risk of rejection, as even if they say no, you can always stalk your victim down and make them pay later. A simple ‘I’d love to see you again’ and a thumbs-up will work wonders in closing the deal.

Rohypnol works too.