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National Paper...nervous...excited!

In February 2019 I was contacted by a freelance journalist for Fabulous magazine, asking me if I would feature in the upcoming Mother's Day article, which was going to cover mums of all backgrounds. I immediately said yes, as is my wont, sent off the e-mail and then thought "ARGH! What have I done?! Telling the story of my broken ass in a national publication!!". My approach to life is nearly always the cart before the horse, never thinking and just plunging right in enthusiastically. Not long afterwards, I received some further details about what the feature would entail...of course I would have to wear something which showed off my bag, something which I'd never done before on my own Facebook, let in a national setting. This "something which showed off my bag" was of course...underwear..or a bikini. Obviously, it will come as no surprise to learn that I have absolutely NO matching underwear whatsoever, and while we ostomates are lucky that we get free NHS underwear in which our trendy bags can fit, they are very much the NHS equivalent of NHS glasses of 30 years ago. i.e. RANK. Cue a desperate dash to a local shop, of which there are only 2 where you can buy bikinis (other than supermarkets where you can't try them on), with a friend in tow to advise on which one looked best. I eventually selected the one which didn't hang tooo low, and one in which my boobs didn't tumble out of...Page 3 I am not, nor do I want to be!

The same friend agreed to come round and take the photos of me in said bikini, because due to publication time constraints, there was to be no time for an official photo shoot. By the time she came round I was in a state of high anxiety, totally and utterly out of my comfort zone in every way, and very nervous about what on earth I was going to look like. In order to calm my nerves I decided to grab my therapy cat, Frank, to clutch in my arms while she took the photos. In a manner completely out of character, Frank turned into a veritable fluffy eel, and became impossible to keep still. It's so very true what they say about never working with animals. Even fat, fluffy placid ones turn into demanding divas when a camera is turned their way. On looking back the photos afterwards we all collapsed into so funny...his poor face! The poor soul, stuck in the arms of his mad mother while she was wearing a bikini. No wonder he looks so alarmed. (see picture below). Needless to say, that one didn't make the cut for the paper...

Once the photos were done I had my telephone interview with a lovely journalist, Eimear O'Hagan. She could not have been kinder, putting me at my ease, and quite clearly appalled by my story of woe, but as always, the article had the positive ending we all now know. A couple of weeks later the article came out....I was thrilled with the results. I even got stopped a few weeks later in the local supermarket while doing my weekly lockdown shop...I heard a shout from a member of staff, immediately started stammering my apologies as I assumed I was going the wrong way up the aisle...and she said she just wanted to tell me she'd seen the article and thought it was fantastic. There you go. Made it all so worthwhile. I'm not sure poor Frank would agree though.

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