Changing Room Problems

changing room problems 2


I grab at the rounded flesh of my stomach and turn my head to gasp at the dimpled cellulite of my thighs in the mirror behind me. Angrily, I survey my now poorly-fitting bra (so worn through after 18 months of backpacking that the fabric now represents the greying folds of elephant skin), and bemoan my unflattering black cotton briefs purchased once upon a time from Tesco. Their elastic sags forlornly, as if they too have given up on this weary physique of mine.

Perhaps if I take off my ankle socks, my stubby legs (shaved last week) will appear somehow – magically – longer and slimmer.

I bend down and yank the holey fabric from my feet, wincing as I get an eyeful of my cake shelf folding over itself as I reach down.

“How are you getting on?” a happy voice trills through the curtain.

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Feel Good Blogging Challenge Day #4: 10 Random Facts About Me

Debs in London

Phew, we are now on Day #4 of Alex Beadon’s Feel Good Blogging Challenge. I would like to take a quick moment to thank all of you lovely readers and fellow bloggers who have taken the time to read my posts and support my blog. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it! Make sure you check out Day #1, Day #2 and Day #3 of this challenge.

Today’s challenge (posted a little late as I currently don’t have reliable wifi!) is to write 10 random facts about me. Let’s get straight into things:


1. I used to take ballet classes until the age of 16. I was also super passionate about acting and musical theatre. I flirted with the idea of treading the boards and embarking on a career in the arts (my older brother is actually a professional ballet dancer.) However, there came a point when I became more interested in politics and current affairs. So instead of taking more theatre arts classes, I worked on my academic pursuits and went on to study Political Science at university.

2. I cycled to France with my family when I was seven years old. When I was a kid, my parents couldn’t really afford a car so my dad came up with the genius idea of buying us all bikes. Yup, that’s right, my dad, mum, brother and I would cycle to school and go on family bike rides every weekend, rain or shine. I even had a bright pink bike helmet that my brother fondly named Netty. Eventually we took the plunge and cycled to France.

My poor brother was only 10 at the time, but he was carrying two side panniers on his bike and a ridiculously heavy steel-poled tent. I carried a tiny pink backpack containing only my clothes and the apples for our snack break. My brother was not happy.

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Feel Good Blogging Challenge Day #2: The Time I was Almost Left at the Grand Canyon

(If you haven’t done so already, please read Day #1: A Simple Introduction.)

Today’s challenge is all about explaining why I am passionate about what I do (ie. why I am passionate about travel and encouraging others to do the same.) Well, let me tell you a little story that I always fondly entitle, “The time I was almost left at the Grand Canyon”:



The absolute darkness pressed in around my eyes as I watched car after car vacate the parking lot. I squinted at the small number of occupied spaces filled with scraps of metal and flash SUV’s, trying to decipher whether any of the cars could somehow give any indication of where my friend and his car had gone.

The sun had well and truly sunk its way down into the ground of the Grand Canyon on which I now stood, my feet still covered in its dust, clutching my tiny day backpack as though it were my life raft.

Grand Canyon Sunset

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Bridget Jones does the Tongariro Crossing (Part 2)

Tongariro - 2

If you haven’t done so, you can read Bridget Jones does the Tongariro Part 1 here.

Tongariro - The Steep Killer Slope

7.45am – Embarking on the devil’s staircase/slippery slope of death

Am about to climb a right-angle complete with treacherous ice. It is clearly designed to slaughter the clumsy members of the human race (ie. me). Think I might die as I am not wearing crumpets (or whatever they’re called) on my shoes and I have no walking sticks.

Have managed to do a pretty nifty video of me walking though. Always good to have artsy videos for Instagram. Am the next Bear Grills, after all.


Was just tottering along with my camera making very astute David Attenborough-esque commentary, imagining my glittering future career as journalist and film maker, when I stumbled on an icy rock. Fell flat on my arse.

I swear I heard my frozen fat crack.

The only blessing is that there is no one around to witness such a mortifying occurrence.


My arse hurts. I wonder if it is appropriate to have a fag whilst trekking? After all, it would be medicinal (to distract me from the pain).


Have lit medicinal cigarette and resumed walking. I decided that given the circumstances and the lack of judgmental human company, having one small ciggie to keep me going with this journey is perfectly justifiable.

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“Bridget Jones” does the Tongariro Crossing – Part 1


Tongariro - view

Disclaimer: whilst this story is based on real events, certain aspects are added for humour and creativity.

Thursday 1 May 2014Turangi, New Zealand.

5.00am – in my tent ice house

Woken up by icicles biting my face off.

Am buried in sleeping bag wearing three jumpers, three t-shirts, a pair of thermal leggings and a pair of trousers. Am still freezing.

Now cursing lady in hiking store for convincing me that a minus degree sleeping bag wasn’t necessary. As an outdoors expert hailing from Europe she evidently took one look at my bingo wings and decided that I couldn’t carry the extra weight:

Discrimination against the unhealthy is an ongoing problem that I face in the hiking world.

Either that or the lady had no clue about New Zealand winter time.

I haven’t decided which.

Thinking wistfully of days gone by when I slept in dorm rooms surrounded by snoring sweaty backpackers.

Have a big hike today so must get some rest before I have to get up at the arse crack of dawn (5.30am).


The cold has made my nose run. Have got snot all over sleeping bag in my sleep.

This is why I am still single.


Desperately need to pee but cannot face concept of moving. Think my toes have possibly fallen off inside the three pairs of hiking socks I am wearing.


I really should go and pee. Whilst snot on the sleeping bag is excusable, piss in its depths just simply is not.


The urge to pee did not make it to the campsite toilets. Made it as far as the nearest tree before my bladder almost burst.

Thank fuck for winter’s lack of early morning sunshine. I am sure the tree will now flourish nicely.

Have somehow made my way to the campsite’s kitchen and am preparing nutritious breakfast of peanut butter on two cereal bars.

I take my hiking preparation very seriously:

I choose peanut butter for its high protein content. Not because I found it on the “free” shelf at the last hostel…obviously.

Must will myself to get out of layers and into hiking gear. Cannot shower as don’t have the time and am worried that certain parts of my body will freeze if exposed to such extreme temperatures.

Whilst un-used, I like my vagina the way it is.

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