<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849</id><updated>2011-11-16T01:21:25.325-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sell my story</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>39</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-4708694774468615209</id><published>2011-06-03T04:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-03T04:41:25.943-07:00</updated><title type='text'>While I was babysitting for my niece she was sleeping with my bloke</title><content type='html'>Rena raised her niece Elizabeth as her own after her sister died. Rena had cared for her, babysat for her, helped her out and been a mum to her. But last year Rena’s world collapsed, when she found out that Elizabeth was sleeping with Jed, her partner of 16 years.&lt;br /&gt;Rena’s family rallied around, heartbroken, and the next night she went to a karaoke and belted out `I will survive’. And she has, a year later Rena, 43, has slimmed from a size 20 to a size 10 and is starting a fresh, while Jed and Elizabeth’s baby is due in a month’s time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j4q4_ceo2ew/TejIIoeiS0I/AAAAAAAAAUY/K19N9w67hQ0/s1600/rena3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j4q4_ceo2ew/TejIIoeiS0I/AAAAAAAAAUY/K19N9w67hQ0/s200/rena3.jpg" t8="true" width="89" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--5Ezrf1ubAY/TejHvybjLBI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/E3AzAN5hfjM/s1600/rena2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9Nlgxa9ACSU/TejHp8hCD4I/AAAAAAAAAUM/6tiB7b_OGVY/s1600/rena1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="148" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9Nlgxa9ACSU/TejHp8hCD4I/AAAAAAAAAUM/6tiB7b_OGVY/s200/rena1.jpg" t8="true" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--5Ezrf1ubAY/TejHvybjLBI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/E3AzAN5hfjM/s1600/rena2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--5Ezrf1ubAY/TejHvybjLBI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/E3AzAN5hfjM/s320/rena2.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-4708694774468615209?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/4708694774468615209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/06/while-i-was-babysitting-for-my-niece.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/4708694774468615209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/4708694774468615209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/06/while-i-was-babysitting-for-my-niece.html' title='While I was babysitting for my niece she was sleeping with my bloke'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j4q4_ceo2ew/TejIIoeiS0I/AAAAAAAAAUY/K19N9w67hQ0/s72-c/rena3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-1273931449063441160</id><published>2011-05-12T03:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T13:47:23.169-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I've lost nearly 30 stone in weight</title><content type='html'>Sophie thought her life was over. Weighing 40 stone she was a virtual prisoner in her own home. Her boyfriend had become her carer and her weight meant she couldn't have the family that she'd always dreamed of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Gi78KEr9uHs/Tcu7j9czmyI/AAAAAAAAAUE/P5yyVJbaUIA/s1600/sophie1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="254" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Gi78KEr9uHs/Tcu7j9czmyI/AAAAAAAAAUE/P5yyVJbaUIA/s320/sophie1.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Doctors warned her she was killing herself&amp;nbsp; but diets and tablets all failed. Surgery could kill her but she realised if she didn't then she woudl be dead anyhow.&lt;br /&gt;A team at University College London agreed to carry out the risky proceedure and the gastric band was fitted.&lt;br /&gt;Sophie got used to eating egg-cup size amounts and in just two years she's lost an incredible TWENTY NINE STONES in weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She goes to the gym three times a week and her relationship with her boyfriend&amp;nbsp;is incredible. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But its even more of a dream come true. Sophie's given birth to gorgeous twins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sophie, who's 36, said: "Three years ago time was running out. Now I'm a different woman and my dreams have come true. I want&amp;nbsp;other women to know that it’s never too late."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--1uevSXZ8WE/Tcu7w4_J51I/AAAAAAAAAUI/1g08Ju8825k/s1600/sophie+now.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--1uevSXZ8WE/Tcu7w4_J51I/AAAAAAAAAUI/1g08Ju8825k/s320/sophie+now.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-1273931449063441160?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/1273931449063441160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/05/ive-lost-nearly-30-stone-in-weight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/1273931449063441160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/1273931449063441160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/05/ive-lost-nearly-30-stone-in-weight.html' title='I&apos;ve lost nearly 30 stone in weight'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Gi78KEr9uHs/Tcu7j9czmyI/AAAAAAAAAUE/P5yyVJbaUIA/s72-c/sophie1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-5074630482253607858</id><published>2011-05-11T05:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T05:22:37.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Working as a tour rep gave me liver disease</title><content type='html'>Claire couldn't believe it. She'd landed a job as a tour rep in Benidorm. It really was sea, sun and sangria, but the hours were long and she had to drink with the guests as part of her job - she and the other reps worked out they were drinking 16 units a night! After six months she was so ill she had to jack it all in. It took doctors another six months and an unncecesary operation to find out what was wrong - she had liver disease. Doctors warned her she could never drink again and its been a long road back to health.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-29-hMiYc99Q/Tcp-o2kHP1I/AAAAAAAAAT0/yzdihsVPEYM/s1600/claire2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="133" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-29-hMiYc99Q/Tcp-o2kHP1I/AAAAAAAAAT0/yzdihsVPEYM/s200/claire2.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TQe_CF2mauc/Tcp_XSdvdLI/AAAAAAAAAUA/wa-Cy0xIXSY/s1600/claire3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TQe_CF2mauc/Tcp_XSdvdLI/AAAAAAAAAUA/wa-Cy0xIXSY/s200/claire3.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-5074630482253607858?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/5074630482253607858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/05/working-as-tour-rep-gave-me-liver.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/5074630482253607858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/5074630482253607858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/05/working-as-tour-rep-gave-me-liver.html' title='Working as a tour rep gave me liver disease'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-29-hMiYc99Q/Tcp-o2kHP1I/AAAAAAAAAT0/yzdihsVPEYM/s72-c/claire2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-3244072853893450712</id><published>2011-04-01T08:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-01T08:12:16.700-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Our 3,000 mile mercy mission</title><content type='html'>When Jane spotted a stray dog while on holiday in Italy she knew she had to save his life. Now after a 50 hour train journey across Europe&amp;nbsp;Bubba has made it safetly back to Britain to start his new life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jane describes being trapped in a train sleeper compartment with&amp;nbsp;the huge dog for 15 hours solid as the worst experience of her life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;But just seeing his wagging tail and knowing she saved him from certain death makes it all worth while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Zh2MYPUsQ1w/TZXqwWoiBEI/AAAAAAAAATs/ss3QiZo5U_Y/s1600/dog7+sm.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7BrbFclDUMI/TZXqb1NIHWI/AAAAAAAAATg/p49N86vOVwo/s1600/dog1+sm.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7BrbFclDUMI/TZXqb1NIHWI/AAAAAAAAATg/p49N86vOVwo/s200/dog1+sm.JPG" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zBJAYQKzSCM/TZXqmPe-znI/AAAAAAAAATk/uwj1vS_ShxA/s1600/dog2+sm.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zBJAYQKzSCM/TZXqmPe-znI/AAAAAAAAATk/uwj1vS_ShxA/s320/dog2+sm.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-3244072853893450712?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/3244072853893450712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/04/our-3000-mile-mercy-mission.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/3244072853893450712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/3244072853893450712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/04/our-3000-mile-mercy-mission.html' title='Our 3,000 mile mercy mission'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7BrbFclDUMI/TZXqb1NIHWI/AAAAAAAAATg/p49N86vOVwo/s72-c/dog1+sm.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-7848137112660348413</id><published>2011-03-29T04:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-29T04:32:38.164-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why my best mate is taking my boobs</title><content type='html'>Alex stared at herself in the mirror, small and slim, she turned this way and that, but she just couldn’t ignore them, the bane of her life – her boobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--AxDSXM83T8/TZHCkK40vvI/AAAAAAAAATY/AUwUZYOR-eA/s1600/alex2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" r6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--AxDSXM83T8/TZHCkK40vvI/AAAAAAAAATY/AUwUZYOR-eA/s200/alex2.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Nicknamed `Melons’ Alex balances her size 34 J boobs on her tiny 5ft 3ins frame. They’ve blighted her life, but no one took her seriously until she made a new friend at the school gates two years ago.&lt;br /&gt;Leilah was a mum like Alex, waiting for her kids too, she’d just moved to the area. The two started chatting and hit it off straight away.&lt;br /&gt;Alex was having a tough time. She had no self esteem, her relationship wasn’t working and when her partner left her she ended up being hospitalised.&lt;br /&gt;Leilah was there for her. She brought in fun pyjamas and a home cooked dinner every night.&lt;br /&gt;With Leilah’s support Alex came out the other end. The two saw each other every day, had everything in common, talked about everything. Then at the end of last year Leilah’s marriage broke down and Alex was there for her too, got her through it. Both girls celebrated when Alex and her partner got back together, learned the lessons from their previous split.&lt;br /&gt;Last month the girls sealed their friendship with identical tattoos.&lt;br /&gt;Then Leilah had some news for Alex. She’d got an inheritance and wanted to give her the greatest gift of all – she was going to pay for a £5,500 boob reduction for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nNCGn-U0BAc/TZHCtwPYTvI/AAAAAAAAATc/3sN7WmNK9YQ/s1600/alex5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="149" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nNCGn-U0BAc/TZHCtwPYTvI/AAAAAAAAATc/3sN7WmNK9YQ/s200/alex5.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Alex has been through all the pre-ops and can’t wait to go under the knife.&lt;br /&gt;Alex, who’s 30, said: “Everyone says how important friends are. Leilah has transformed my life – you really do need friends in your life.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-7848137112660348413?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/7848137112660348413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/03/why-my-best-mate-is-taking-my-boobs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/7848137112660348413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/7848137112660348413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/03/why-my-best-mate-is-taking-my-boobs.html' title='Why my best mate is taking my boobs'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--AxDSXM83T8/TZHCkK40vvI/AAAAAAAAATY/AUwUZYOR-eA/s72-c/alex2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-6188010062942005845</id><published>2011-03-25T09:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T09:03:06.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>He stole my heart when I was four, but it’s taken 18 years to get together</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-KUokRF9Mqyg/TYy8aHl-cEI/AAAAAAAAATQ/RcxJv7HbfFo/s1600/cheryl1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="125" r6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-KUokRF9Mqyg/TYy8aHl-cEI/AAAAAAAAATQ/RcxJv7HbfFo/s200/cheryl1.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Cheryl and Jordan sobbed until they thought their hearts would break. They might only be seven years old, but they were in love. Now Jordan’s mummy had news that had left them devastated and she’d waited until the last day of school to tell them. Jordan’s family were moving to another town.&lt;br /&gt;The two had been sweethearts since they were four years old. They’d done everything together and even shared innocent kisses.&lt;br /&gt;After that no one could take the place of Jordan. Cheryl picked countless wrong blokes and still looked at the photos of her lost love wondering what had happened to him. She’d tried searching for him online but never found him.&lt;br /&gt;She went on to have a son with her partner but when she fell pregnant again the relationship finally died a death. Cheryl was facing life as a single mum. Her daughter was beautiful and she and her mum arranged a christening for her in December 2010 and hired a local pub’s function room for a special get together afterwards. It was a perfect day and Cheryl and a friend popped out to the main bar to get a drink. She gazed around the bar until she stared at a bloke. It couldn’t be? It had to be? No!&lt;br /&gt;She sidled around the bar for a closer look. It had to be him!&lt;br /&gt;She couldn’t stop herself and went and tapped him on the back. He looked at her blankly.&lt;br /&gt;“It’s Cheryl.” She said.&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly the penny dropped and he just stared. They had so much to talk about, so much to say. Jordan had been passing through, had just popped in with a mate for a drink. He didn’t live or work locally.&lt;br /&gt;Cheryl explained why she was there, asked him to come into the function room.&lt;br /&gt;She grabbed her mum. “Guess who!” she said. Her mum just stared blankly.&lt;br /&gt;“It’s Jordan.” Her mum’s face was a picture too, she just couldn’t believe it.&lt;br /&gt;Jordan and Cheryl have just got engaged and are to marry next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/--hEKUQ8fa0g/TYy8g7E0tcI/AAAAAAAAATU/sxONbOYeAPw/s1600/Photo0025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Cheryl, who’s 22, said: “I last saw Jordan when he was seven but yet I recognised him straight away. I keep pinching myself to make sure it’s real and we’re never going to lose each other again.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/--hEKUQ8fa0g/TYy8g7E0tcI/AAAAAAAAATU/sxONbOYeAPw/s1600/Photo0025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" r6="true" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/--hEKUQ8fa0g/TYy8g7E0tcI/AAAAAAAAATU/sxONbOYeAPw/s200/Photo0025.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-6188010062942005845?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/6188010062942005845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/03/he-stole-my-heart-when-i-was-four-but.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/6188010062942005845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/6188010062942005845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/03/he-stole-my-heart-when-i-was-four-but.html' title='He stole my heart when I was four, but it’s taken 18 years to get together'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-KUokRF9Mqyg/TYy8aHl-cEI/AAAAAAAAATQ/RcxJv7HbfFo/s72-c/cheryl1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-711742695738700177</id><published>2011-03-21T12:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-21T12:28:37.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My bloke slept in his car for two months to be with me after I was burned alive</title><content type='html'>Marilyn was having one last cigarette and cup of tea before turning in for the night. Her partner of three years Ricky was already in bed. She lit the cigarette and popped the lighter in her dressing gown pocket. But there was a fault with the lighter and it sparked in her pocket. Seconds later she was engulfed in fire – her velvet dressing gown had exploded into flames.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CrYL7fbe3N8/TYemq_cM6-I/AAAAAAAAATM/brtTw32X1MM/s1600/marilyn+ricky+sm.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="133" r6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CrYL7fbe3N8/TYemq_cM6-I/AAAAAAAAATM/brtTw32X1MM/s200/marilyn+ricky+sm.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Ricky heard her screams, but he’d taken his prosthetic leg off. He hopped across their flat and into the kitchen. He leapt onto her, rolling her over and over to put out the flames –he was badly burned too.&lt;br /&gt;He managed to reach a phone and called 999 and they were both rushed to a specialist burns unit.&lt;br /&gt;Marilyn’s burns were horrific, she’d suffered 40 per cent burns, her torso, face, arms and even her breasts had been terribly burned. She wasn’t expected to live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yKHrCTxFD1A/TYemeo7ZhlI/AAAAAAAAATI/RUB75ZRDE_Q/s1600/marilyn+burns2+sm.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" r6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yKHrCTxFD1A/TYemeo7ZhlI/AAAAAAAAATI/RUB75ZRDE_Q/s200/marilyn+burns2+sm.JPG" width="140" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Ricky had saved her life but was in hospital for two weeks. When he was released his hands were still bandaged and he couldn’t drive. They lived 30 miles from the hospital and he knew he couldn’t leave Marilyn. So he camped in their car in the hospital car park for SIX WEEKS until Marilyn was out of danger.&lt;br /&gt;Marilyn was horrified at her appearance, told Ricky he should walk away from her. But he told her he loved her more than ever. They’d met when they were neighbours in London. Both had given up hope of finding love and happiness again, but it had clicked and they’d moved to their flat to make a fresh start – then this had happened.&lt;br /&gt;Months of agonising skin grafts followed. Doctors also took muscle from her legs and skin from her belly to reconstruct her breast.&lt;br /&gt;When Marilyn was finally released from hospital she was a shadow of herself. She’s lost the use of her left arm and has been left with terrible scars. But Ricky doesn’t see that. He rubs the special cream into her scars three times a day. He says she’s the most beautiful woman alive and is just grateful she’s still with him.&lt;br /&gt;Marilyn, who’s 55, said: “I still can’t believe that my dressing gown burned me alive. If it wasn’t for Ricky and his devotion I wouldn’t be alive now.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-711742695738700177?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/711742695738700177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-bloke-slept-in-his-car-for-two.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/711742695738700177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/711742695738700177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-bloke-slept-in-his-car-for-two.html' title='My bloke slept in his car for two months to be with me after I was burned alive'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CrYL7fbe3N8/TYemq_cM6-I/AAAAAAAAATM/brtTw32X1MM/s72-c/marilyn+ricky+sm.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-5585246965407724460</id><published>2011-03-15T12:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-15T12:35:15.994-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I’m the only great grandpa who’s become a great grandma</title><content type='html'>Rose White doesn’t attract a second glance in the street. She’s just a normal pensioner getting in her shopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QlY9QmHJTGg/TX-_IG_bG6I/AAAAAAAAATA/opOYvZhbCN8/s1600/rose4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" q6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QlY9QmHJTGg/TX-_IG_bG6I/AAAAAAAAATA/opOYvZhbCN8/s200/rose4.jpg" width="124" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;But until January of this year Rose was Melvin, a man. He’d lived a lie all his life before realising it was now or never. At the age of 63 he went through a six-hour sex change operation.&lt;br /&gt;Melvin knew from when he was little that he wasn’t like other boys. He wanted to hold tea parties and pick flowers. When he was 14 he wrote a letter to his family doctor saying, `I’m not a proper boy, can you cure me?’ The doctor turned up at his house, but took one look at Melvin, bottled it and ran out of the door.&lt;br /&gt;After that Melvin tried to live as a man. Worked as an engineer, even married. but it only lasted three months. They did have a daughter though who he remained close to, a granddaughter and very recently a great-granddaughter.&lt;br /&gt;Throughout his life he’s been tormented and bullied for his feminine ways and has never found `Mr Right’ to settle down with.&lt;br /&gt;He thought he could never do anything to change his life until he finally got a computer and started chatting to other transsexuals online. They encouraged him to fight for his happiness.&lt;br /&gt;In 2007 doctors agreed and Melvin started living as Rose to start on the gender reassignment process. She was forced out of her home by neighbours, but was still determined.&lt;br /&gt;She had to wait for the sex change operation, but in the meantime paid out for a boob job and nose job to make sure she looked the part.&lt;br /&gt;Rose’s 92-year-old mum remembered the day the doctor ran out of the house in 1961, although she’d never known why, and has supported her all the way. &lt;br /&gt;Finally in January Rose underwent the six hour operation to remove her male bits and build a vagina from a piece of her colon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Js5Q8nT7ndQ/TX-_XAOHH0I/AAAAAAAAATE/6w77oUow5Pw/s1600/rose3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" q6="true" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Js5Q8nT7ndQ/TX-_XAOHH0I/AAAAAAAAATE/6w77oUow5Pw/s200/rose3.JPG" width="136" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Now Rose is healing nicely and can’t wait to find Mr Right and finally live life as a woman after so long.&lt;br /&gt;Rose, who’s almost 64, said: “I want people to know it’s never too late to find happiness. I think I’m the only great granddad in Britain to have the operation. Now I’m finally who I’ve waited all my life to be.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-5585246965407724460?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/5585246965407724460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/03/im-only-great-grandpa-whos-become-great.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/5585246965407724460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/5585246965407724460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/03/im-only-great-grandpa-whos-become-great.html' title='I’m the only great grandpa who’s become a great grandma'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QlY9QmHJTGg/TX-_IG_bG6I/AAAAAAAAATA/opOYvZhbCN8/s72-c/rose4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-4864345665260927598</id><published>2011-02-23T02:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T03:49:19.625-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When my daughter died our fight began</title><content type='html'>Tamyson thought she'd beaten cancer when she found out she was pregnant. Doctors gave her a stark choice of ending the pregnancy or facing death. She chose her baby's life over hers, told mum Maria just how she wanted her son brought up. Baby Brenton was born premature but survived, Tam lasted just a few more days. But it was then that Maria's battle began. Brenton's dad told her she'd&amp;nbsp;never see her grandson&amp;nbsp;again. It took four years but now Maria and husband Trevor have won full custody and are bringing up their grandson in exactly the way their gorgeous daughter wanted them to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GGPzxQloIi8/TWTnlH-ZNcI/AAAAAAAAAS0/OxSM3wJ119g/s1600/maria1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="133" j6="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GGPzxQloIi8/TWTnlH-ZNcI/AAAAAAAAAS0/OxSM3wJ119g/s200/maria1.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5IjB8cV_PCw/TWTnt4WxAZI/AAAAAAAAAS4/brF_p8pv00A/s1600/maria2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="134" j6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5IjB8cV_PCw/TWTnt4WxAZI/AAAAAAAAAS4/brF_p8pv00A/s200/maria2.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VDFi62Yy_PY/TWTn6zneVLI/AAAAAAAAAS8/2CiVCVtVZxc/s1600/maria%2526tam.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="213" j6="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VDFi62Yy_PY/TWTn6zneVLI/AAAAAAAAAS8/2CiVCVtVZxc/s320/maria%2526tam.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-4864345665260927598?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/4864345665260927598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/02/when-my-daughter-died-our-fight-began.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/4864345665260927598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/4864345665260927598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/02/when-my-daughter-died-our-fight-began.html' title='When my daughter died our fight began'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GGPzxQloIi8/TWTnlH-ZNcI/AAAAAAAAAS0/OxSM3wJ119g/s72-c/maria1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-8067721757386315873</id><published>2011-02-23T02:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T02:50:23.047-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I trapped my cheating husband and found love</title><content type='html'>When Wendy Craig discovered her husband of seven years had joined a dating site she was devastated. so she decided to get her revenge. She set up a fake profile and caught him hook line and sinker. He'd go off on dates and she'd watch at home, knowing she'd be a no show.&lt;br /&gt;She used the evidence to divorce him and start a new life. But she hadn't closed her account with the dating site and one day she got details of a new member. Her heart missed a beat and now they are setting up home together.&lt;br /&gt;Revenge really is sweet for Wendy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uQkiDiBdFC0/TWTlgA46kqI/AAAAAAAAASs/t-G9XHO5NlE/s1600/wendy1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" j6="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uQkiDiBdFC0/TWTlgA46kqI/AAAAAAAAASs/t-G9XHO5NlE/s320/wendy1.JPG" width="218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Wendy &amp;amp; Ian&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿﻿ &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b2NnxxpT-nk/TWTloX5ymVI/AAAAAAAAASw/86-j421bbj4/s1600/wendy2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="207" j6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b2NnxxpT-nk/TWTloX5ymVI/AAAAAAAAASw/86-j421bbj4/s320/wendy2.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Wendy &amp;amp; Steve&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-8067721757386315873?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/8067721757386315873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-trapped-my-cheating-husband-and-found.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/8067721757386315873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/8067721757386315873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-trapped-my-cheating-husband-and-found.html' title='I trapped my cheating husband and found love'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uQkiDiBdFC0/TWTlgA46kqI/AAAAAAAAASs/t-G9XHO5NlE/s72-c/wendy1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-9113183482455559927</id><published>2011-02-03T02:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-03T02:56:52.012-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I sound like I've swallowed a clock</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Tick, tick, tick…. No it’s not the crocodile in Peter Pan, it’s Shelly Riley. The only woman in the world who ticks when she breathes….&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shelly has always ticked. At school she was teased and even ordered out of an exam. Her partner Stuart says its like sleeping next to a ticking time bomb.&lt;br /&gt;Shelly is the only person in the WORLD with the condition. Doctors are amazed she's alive at all.&lt;br /&gt;Surgery to repair the tick failed and Shelly, 36,&amp;nbsp;has realised that she will just spend her life sounding like Captain Hook's crocodile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TUqJ2ANBHlI/AAAAAAAAASI/AyTsas4f2bU/s1600/shelly.BMP" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" s5="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TUqJ2ANBHlI/AAAAAAAAASI/AyTsas4f2bU/s200/shelly.BMP" width="146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-9113183482455559927?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/9113183482455559927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-sound-like-ive-swallowed-clock.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/9113183482455559927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/9113183482455559927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-sound-like-ive-swallowed-clock.html' title='I sound like I&apos;ve swallowed a clock'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TUqJ2ANBHlI/AAAAAAAAASI/AyTsas4f2bU/s72-c/shelly.BMP' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-7564621423465781484</id><published>2011-01-18T05:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-18T05:02:47.918-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My huge cyst was alive and kicking</title><content type='html'>Alison Barnes was convinced she had cancer. She’d felt ill for months and knew something was growing inside her. Medical problems meant she and her husband couldn’t have children. But when a terrified Alison was finally sent for a scan she was horrified to find she was seven months pregnant. She’d done everything wrong, she’d been smoking and drinking, bouncing around in tractors, carrying out heavy manual labour, she’d even been crash dieting to try to lose weight. She’d broken every rule in the pregnancy book. Despite that doctors congratulated her on how healthy and happy baby Freya is.&lt;br /&gt;﻿﻿﻿﻿&lt;br /&gt;﻿﻿ &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TTWNqjeeEcI/AAAAAAAAAR8/2nuXs3yaawQ/s1600/alison+diy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TTWNqjeeEcI/AAAAAAAAAR8/2nuXs3yaawQ/s200/alison+diy.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Alison DIY four months&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿ &lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TTWNdQQjDaI/AAAAAAAAAR0/W6dg9i1AkvY/s1600/alison+party.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TTWNdQQjDaI/AAAAAAAAAR0/W6dg9i1AkvY/s200/alison+party.JPG" width="140" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Alison six months&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿﻿ &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TTWNjZa3ncI/AAAAAAAAAR4/hWEjk2Ligps/s1600/alison+lock.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TTWNjZa3ncI/AAAAAAAAAR4/hWEjk2Ligps/s200/alison+lock.JPG" width="133" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Alison six months&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿ &lt;br /&gt;﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿ &lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TTWNxp75LWI/AAAAAAAAASA/5I92m20IV5w/s1600/alison+baby.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TTWNxp75LWI/AAAAAAAAASA/5I92m20IV5w/s200/alison+baby.JPG" width="133" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Happy family&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿ &lt;div align="left"&gt;﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-7564621423465781484?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/7564621423465781484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/01/my-huge-cyst-was-alive-and-kicking.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/7564621423465781484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/7564621423465781484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/01/my-huge-cyst-was-alive-and-kicking.html' title='My huge cyst was alive and kicking'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TTWNqjeeEcI/AAAAAAAAAR8/2nuXs3yaawQ/s72-c/alison+diy.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-4364355525623429200</id><published>2011-01-18T04:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-18T04:50:38.487-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Branded a killer by my dead boyfriend’s family</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TTWLvQyAFYI/AAAAAAAAARo/6itwnQFqGrw/s1600/mark+on+hols.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Elin Jones' boyfriend Mark fell to his death from a hotel balcony on their first holiday together she thought friends and family would rally round in her hour of need. Instead his family blamed her for his death and carried out a vicious campaign against her which culminated in his brother pleading guilty to harassment in April last year .&lt;br /&gt;Now she’s met someone new and is picking up the pieces of her life and wants to break her silence on what really happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TTWL7bQ8tRI/AAAAAAAAARs/q_kIFzdFVDM/s1600/elin+%2526+dominic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;﻿﻿ &lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TTWLnxQw7uI/AAAAAAAAARk/ntfNhg-H61Q/s1600/elin+%2526+mark.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TTWLnxQw7uI/AAAAAAAAARk/ntfNhg-H61Q/s200/elin+%2526+mark.JPG" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Elin &amp;amp; Mark on holiday&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿﻿ &lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TTWLvQyAFYI/AAAAAAAAARo/6itwnQFqGrw/s1600/mark+on+hols.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TTWLvQyAFYI/AAAAAAAAARo/6itwnQFqGrw/s200/mark+on+hols.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Mark partying in Turkey&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿ &lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TTWL7bQ8tRI/AAAAAAAAARs/q_kIFzdFVDM/s1600/elin+%2526+dominic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TTWL7bQ8tRI/AAAAAAAAARs/q_kIFzdFVDM/s320/elin+%2526+dominic.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Elin and Dominic now&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-4364355525623429200?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/4364355525623429200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/01/branded-killer-by-my-dead-boyfriends.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/4364355525623429200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/4364355525623429200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/01/branded-killer-by-my-dead-boyfriends.html' title='Branded a killer by my dead boyfriend’s family'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TTWLnxQw7uI/AAAAAAAAARk/ntfNhg-H61Q/s72-c/elin+%2526+mark.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-4151341535241951822</id><published>2011-01-12T04:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T04:18:34.789-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A four month fling led to a 10 year harassment campaign</title><content type='html'>Former circus performer Beki Jade wishes she’d never set eyes on Daniel. They were together for just four months. But when she left him,&amp;nbsp;Daniel swore no one did that to him and now he was going to ruin her life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True to his word he’s stalked her for TEN YEARS. &lt;br /&gt;﻿﻿ &lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TS2bqqZXkjI/AAAAAAAAARg/-zwHgALlKII/s1600/beki10001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="192" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TS2bqqZXkjI/AAAAAAAAARg/-zwHgALlKII/s200/beki10001.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Beki performing&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TS2aZQngxgI/AAAAAAAAARc/JZYCVQYLXSk/s1600/beki.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TS2aZQngxgI/AAAAAAAAARc/JZYCVQYLXSk/s200/beki.JPG" width="160" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Beki now&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-4151341535241951822?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/4151341535241951822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/01/four-month-fling-led-to-10-year.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/4151341535241951822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/4151341535241951822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/01/four-month-fling-led-to-10-year.html' title='A four month fling led to a 10 year harassment campaign'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TS2bqqZXkjI/AAAAAAAAARg/-zwHgALlKII/s72-c/beki10001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-8544679250190998046</id><published>2011-01-12T04:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T04:07:52.622-08:00</updated><title type='text'>They sliced my head open when I went for new glasses</title><content type='html'>Jacqui Knight’s optician saved her life when he noticed something nasty when he examined her. She needed an eight hour to remove a huge brain tumour which could have killed her at any moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TS2ZAFwP7xI/AAAAAAAAARQ/JTIbHae19r0/s1600/jacqui+staples1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TS2ZAFwP7xI/AAAAAAAAARQ/JTIbHae19r0/s200/jacqui+staples1.JPG" width="196" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TS2ZRC5hSoI/AAAAAAAAARY/AuDyononctU/s1600/jacqui+staples.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="195" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TS2ZRC5hSoI/AAAAAAAAARY/AuDyononctU/s200/jacqui+staples.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-8544679250190998046?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/8544679250190998046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/01/they-sliced-my-head-open-when-i-went.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/8544679250190998046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/8544679250190998046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/01/they-sliced-my-head-open-when-i-went.html' title='They sliced my head open when I went for new glasses'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TS2ZAFwP7xI/AAAAAAAAARQ/JTIbHae19r0/s72-c/jacqui+staples1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-6162371209295012894</id><published>2011-01-11T04:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T04:08:32.679-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My face is stuck in a scream</title><content type='html'>Alysson Dolan wears a scarf over her face when she goes outside because she doesn’t want to scare people.&amp;nbsp;Alysson was a bubbly outgoing woman, but now her life has changed forever after she ignored the signs of mouth cancer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSxRPdWRGrI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/mm-x1YRp5YQ/s1600/alysson.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSxRPdWRGrI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/mm-x1YRp5YQ/s200/alysson.JPG" width="137" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSxTtCQT_pI/AAAAAAAAARI/g2NqZIOQecw/s1600/alyssonnow1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSxTtCQT_pI/AAAAAAAAARI/g2NqZIOQecw/s200/alyssonnow1.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSxT6B4zeeI/AAAAAAAAARM/5flvmb2ljE8/s1600/alyssonnow.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSxT6B4zeeI/AAAAAAAAARM/5flvmb2ljE8/s320/alyssonnow.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-6162371209295012894?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/6162371209295012894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/01/my-face-is-stuck-in-scream.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/6162371209295012894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/6162371209295012894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/01/my-face-is-stuck-in-scream.html' title='My face is stuck in a scream'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSxRPdWRGrI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/mm-x1YRp5YQ/s72-c/alysson.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-183118967849423405</id><published>2011-01-11T02:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T02:02:27.536-08:00</updated><title type='text'>why shoes cost me twice as much</title><content type='html'>Milli Mason hates shoe shopping. The 21-year-old has to buy two pairs just to get one pair to fit. For Milli has odd feet. One is a size EIGHT and the other a size THREE. Its because she was born with a club foot. She endureed countless operations to enable her to walk. But she's been left with a difficult legacy and now she wants to speak out to raise awareness of the condition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSwqQejiWxI/AAAAAAAAAQw/XJN3bwCvWCI/s1600/milli+feet.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSwqQejiWxI/AAAAAAAAAQw/XJN3bwCvWCI/s320/milli+feet.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSwqcmXzkfI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/zjtYl6GZWFg/s1600/milli+face.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSwqcmXzkfI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/zjtYl6GZWFg/s200/milli+face.JPG" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-183118967849423405?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/183118967849423405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/01/why-shoes-cost-me-twice-as-much.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/183118967849423405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/183118967849423405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/01/why-shoes-cost-me-twice-as-much.html' title='why shoes cost me twice as much'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSwqQejiWxI/AAAAAAAAAQw/XJN3bwCvWCI/s72-c/milli+feet.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-2865009894738232601</id><published>2011-01-11T01:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T01:47:08.201-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I love my house more than my husband</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Anne-Marie Ryan’s friends can’t understand why she hasn’t thrown her cheating husband out of their house. Instead Anne-Marie and her husband have signed a document saying they are free to see other people but will carry on living together.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSwkLfF0nTI/AAAAAAAAAQg/YaCfK5Oes34/s1600/ryannow1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSwkLfF0nTI/AAAAAAAAAQg/YaCfK5Oes34/s200/ryannow1.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSwltc4ej7I/AAAAAAAAAQs/HgUuVXLfsjI/s1600/ryanwed1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="161" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSwltc4ej7I/AAAAAAAAAQs/HgUuVXLfsjI/s200/ryanwed1.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSwj9I5XKTI/AAAAAAAAAQc/RSSDiQA4fBg/s1600/ryannow.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSwj9I5XKTI/AAAAAAAAAQc/RSSDiQA4fBg/s200/ryannow.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSwj9I5XKTI/AAAAAAAAAQc/RSSDiQA4fBg/s1600/ryannow.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSwkWql_elI/AAAAAAAAAQk/8WVuXTn3fNQ/s1600/ryandoc.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSwkWql_elI/AAAAAAAAAQk/8WVuXTn3fNQ/s320/ryandoc.JPG" width="232" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-2865009894738232601?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/2865009894738232601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-love-my-house-more-than-my-husband.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/2865009894738232601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/2865009894738232601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-love-my-house-more-than-my-husband.html' title='I love my house more than my husband'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSwkLfF0nTI/AAAAAAAAAQg/YaCfK5Oes34/s72-c/ryannow1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-6657335215826972605</id><published>2011-01-10T07:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T02:55:00.617-08:00</updated><title type='text'>We won a dream wedding, but eight months later hubby got my best friend pregnant</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Daniel and Suzi Taylor were the picture of happiness at their dream wedding in Italy. But just eight months later their marriage was in tatters after Suzi found out that one of her best friends was pregnant with Daniel’s child.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSsguZsNN5I/AAAAAAAAAQI/wn3x6hZ0OxQ/s1600/sorrento2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="167" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSsguZsNN5I/AAAAAAAAAQI/wn3x6hZ0OxQ/s200/sorrento2.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSsf9zLAcbI/AAAAAAAAAP8/4kAfKATJu_Q/s1600/sorrento4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSsgJAq724I/AAAAAAAAAQA/uhJMDRGdKN4/s1600/sorrento3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="125" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSsgJAq724I/AAAAAAAAAQA/uhJMDRGdKN4/s200/sorrento3.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSsgiF2tjTI/AAAAAAAAAQE/0tNa5I9teHQ/s1600/sorrento1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="134" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSsgiF2tjTI/AAAAAAAAAQE/0tNa5I9teHQ/s200/sorrento1.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSsf9zLAcbI/AAAAAAAAAP8/4kAfKATJu_Q/s1600/sorrento4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSsf9zLAcbI/AAAAAAAAAP8/4kAfKATJu_Q/s200/sorrento4.JPG" width="190" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSsgJAq724I/AAAAAAAAAQA/uhJMDRGdKN4/s1600/sorrento3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;But just six months later Daniel met Amanda for the first time, two months later Amanda was pregnant with Daniel's child.&lt;/div&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSshwb8r8-I/AAAAAAAAAQQ/D0tfxMIZ2cs/s1600/suzi.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSshwb8r8-I/AAAAAAAAAQQ/D0tfxMIZ2cs/s200/suzi.JPG" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Suzi now&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Its' meant that Suzi is slowly picking up the pieces, she's divorced Daniel and has met someone new.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-6657335215826972605?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/6657335215826972605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/01/we-won-dream-wedding-but-eight-months.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/6657335215826972605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/6657335215826972605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/01/we-won-dream-wedding-but-eight-months.html' title='We won a dream wedding, but eight months later hubby got my best friend pregnant'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSsguZsNN5I/AAAAAAAAAQI/wn3x6hZ0OxQ/s72-c/sorrento2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-3816387286992381137</id><published>2011-01-05T04:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-16T01:20:27.620-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheating copper changed my life</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSRdmqRsYmI/AAAAAAAAAPg/3JwGNvgh1Gw/s1600/linda+%2526+family.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="145" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSRdmqRsYmI/AAAAAAAAAPg/3JwGNvgh1Gw/s200/linda+%2526+family.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Linda thought her marriage of 17 years was secure. Husband Ralph was an inspector in the police where she also worked as a photographer and they had two gorgeous daughters.&lt;br /&gt;Ralph was away a lot with his work. He told her he’d been specially trained in surveillance, which took him overseas to chase triads in Hong Kong, Yardies in Jamaica and terrorists in Morocco. Each time Linda and the girls would tearfully wave him off at the station. He’d miss important dates but would always phone and text and Linda would welcome him home with specially cooked meals and celebrations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSRduH26I7I/AAAAAAAAAPk/NLR4QkV4iV4/s1600/linda+hubby.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSRduH26I7I/AAAAAAAAAPk/NLR4QkV4iV4/s200/linda+hubby.JPG" width="129" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;But even though Ralph worked so hard the family was always hard up, never had the money for foreign holidays and treats.&lt;br /&gt;Then one night she had a phone call. A woman wanted to meet with her, it was about Ralph. &lt;br /&gt;Linda met her at a wine bar and the woman explained that she'd been having an affair with Ralph for years. Those overseas jobs had been a lie, he’d been taking her and other women on holiday. There had never been any Yardies, Triads or terrorists, he’d been sunning himself with his girlfriends.&lt;br /&gt;Now Ralph had dumped her for another woman and she'd told him that she was going to see Linda to tell her everything.&lt;br /&gt;Linda was in shock, but she believed the woman, she knew every detail about Ralph. She tried to ring, knew he was due home later that day, but he ignored her calls and never returned home. &lt;br /&gt;Eventually, five days later, Ralph returned home to pick up a few things. He was going straight back to his latest mistress. He readily admitted everything but seemed more annoyed that his perfect life had been found out. &lt;br /&gt;Linda's life was in tatters. She’d lost her husband of 17 years, and her job as she couldn’t carry on at work, then the house was on the line too.&lt;br /&gt;The couple divorced on the grounds of his adultery and Linda hit rock bottom.&lt;br /&gt;But her teenage daughters weren’t going to watch their mum sink. They decided they should all have a fresh start. They’d seen a programme about Scotland and it looked beautiful. So they drove from London home to Inverness.&lt;br /&gt;It was their fresh start and they changed their names by deed poll – the girls chose the new one. Their home is a short walk from the sea and they can see the mountains out of their windows.&lt;br /&gt;All have thrived in their new home. Ralph left the police and moved to Malaysia. The two girls visited him 18 months ago to try to make their peace, although they’ll never forgive him.&lt;br /&gt;Linda, who’s 52, said: “Our family went without so Ralph could live the high life with his mistresses. I hit rock bottom but thanks to the girls we’ve ended up far happier than we ever were before.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSRd1tZaJEI/AAAAAAAAAPo/u_DDgVeBaMo/s1600/linda+%2526+girls.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSRd1tZaJEI/AAAAAAAAAPo/u_DDgVeBaMo/s320/linda+%2526+girls.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-3816387286992381137?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/3816387286992381137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/01/cheating-copper-changed-my-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/3816387286992381137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/3816387286992381137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2011/01/cheating-copper-changed-my-life.html' title='Cheating copper changed my life'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TSRdmqRsYmI/AAAAAAAAAPg/3JwGNvgh1Gw/s72-c/linda+%2526+family.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-1796567010351090832</id><published>2010-09-30T03:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T01:44:33.795-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The empty place at our Christmas table</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TKRs-x4Js0I/AAAAAAAAAPE/5LqFjnIn_S4/s1600/channon+grave.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TKRs-x4Js0I/AAAAAAAAAPE/5LqFjnIn_S4/s200/channon+grave.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;The turkey is on the table, the sprouts are glistening and everyone’s ready to take their places. Nicol’s mum and dad, her sister, husband and son and Nicol’s son Adam are all there. Only there’s an empty setting on the table with colourful cracker. No one will be sitting there today, never will again. But the setting will always be there.&lt;/div&gt;Christmas 07 was so different. Eleven year old Channon couldn’t sit still she was so excited. She spent the morning with mum Nicol and her family, opening presents and having lunch. Then it was off to see her stepdad Terry and his family. &lt;br /&gt;Nicol and Terry had split up only a few months before. They still loved each other but it just wasn’t working. Channon wasn’t Terry’s daughter but he’d raised her as her own alongside their son Adam. They still got along, were talking about a reconciliation.&lt;br /&gt;Then on 22nd August 2008 Nicol got a call. Channon had been staying at Terry’s.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TKRsyDEYUyI/AAAAAAAAAPA/zM_HX4gbe8c/s1600/channon+&amp;amp;+terry.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TKRsyDEYUyI/AAAAAAAAAPA/zM_HX4gbe8c/s200/channon+&amp;amp;+terry.JPG" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Terry &amp;amp; Channon&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;“Can I go on his motorbike, can I, can I? Please!!! Please!!!” it was unrelenting. She’d ridden pillion once before and loved it. Nicol knew Terry was a careful rider and finally said yes.&lt;/div&gt;So Channon popped back to change, was so excited, sliding around the floor in her socks getting changed. They both shouted love you, love you as she dashed out the door.&lt;br /&gt;Nicol carried on as normal, helped Adam with his pushbike, when as they worked a pure white feather floated down and landed in front of her. She picked it up, took it as a sign her guardian angel was watching over her.&lt;br /&gt;Hours later two police officers called. Terry and Channon were dead. A 72-year-old woman had performed a dangerous U-turn on a fast A-road. Terry and Channon hadn’t stood a chance. &lt;br /&gt;Four days later Nicol finally identified their bodies. At least they were together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TKRtudV9i0I/AAAAAAAAAPM/YPIv9x-Vz8Q/s1600/Ann+Lark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TKRtudV9i0I/AAAAAAAAAPM/YPIv9x-Vz8Q/s200/Ann+Lark.jpg" width="126" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Ann Larke&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;Last spring Ann Larke pleaded guilty to causing their deaths by dangerous driving. She was sentenced to two years imprisonment but appealed against her sentence and only served a few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;Channon wanted to be a vet, work with animals. Nicol keeps in touch with her daughters friends on Facebook, watches them grow up, have boyfriends and plan their future.&lt;br /&gt;Nothing can bring Channon or Terry back, but Nicol keeps going for her son.&lt;br /&gt;So this Christmas, like last year, she’ll meet her parents and Terry’s parents at the grave where Terry and Channon are buried together to light candles and leave their presents – Channon couldn’t bear to be left out!&lt;br /&gt;Nicol, who’s 33, said: “Our Christmas now is about remembering the happy times and those we have loved and lost. Channon may not be there with us in person to raise a Christmas toast but her spirit will always be with us.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-1796567010351090832?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/1796567010351090832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/09/empty-place-at-our-christmas-table.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/1796567010351090832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/1796567010351090832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/09/empty-place-at-our-christmas-table.html' title='The empty place at our Christmas table'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TKRs-x4Js0I/AAAAAAAAAPE/5LqFjnIn_S4/s72-c/channon+grave.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-4070763084143605197</id><published>2010-09-30T02:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T02:42:00.635-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I thought my son was having a tantrum but he was trapped in his own body</title><content type='html'>&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TKRY83YDHkI/AAAAAAAAAOk/QOq6vRIPoBg/s1600/sam+before.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TKRY83YDHkI/AAAAAAAAAOk/QOq6vRIPoBg/s200/sam+before.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sam before he was ill&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;Hannah and Wayne Bachelor had just had a perfect Christmas with their one year old son Sam. He’d been so excited but now it was back to the humdrum of life and Sam had picked up a chest infection.&lt;br /&gt;The GP gave him antibiotics, told Hannah not to worry. But next morning she lifted him out of bed and stood him on the floor, he collapsed and started to scream. Typical toddler temper tantrum, so she ignored the screams picked him up and stood him up, again he collapsed and started screaming again. Finally she left him there, expecting him to follow her – but nothing, he was sprawled on the floor screaming.&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TKRZmIQKmjI/AAAAAAAAAOo/loeJ0E-Pjfw/s1600/sam+paralysed.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TKRZmIQKmjI/AAAAAAAAAOo/loeJ0E-Pjfw/s320/sam+paralysed.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sam in ITU&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ Her blood ran cold and Wayne drove them straight to A&amp;amp;E. To start with doctors told her there was nothing wrong, she was a hysterical mum. Hannah refused to budge and waited all day to see a paediatrician. He realised Hannah was right. Sam was transferred to a neurology unit, more tests were carried out and doctors realised he had Guillain Barre Syndrome – an illness that locks the sufferer in their paralysed body.&lt;br /&gt;Over the next few days Hannah and Wayne watched helpless as the paralysis spread across their baby’s body. He was in so much pain he couldn’t be touched – they couldn’t even cuddle him.&lt;br /&gt;He was soon in ITU being kept alive by machines. Doctors washed his blood five times to try to beat the virus but it wasn’t until two weeks later that the little boy finally wiggled his finger.&lt;br /&gt;He suffered allergic reactions to medication, his lungs collapsed and even when he was able to move again he still needed a tracheotomy as his throat had been damaged by being intubated so many times.&lt;br /&gt;Sam was in hospital for three months but even when he was released he still had his tracheotomy. Everything doctors tried failed, they inflated tiny balloons in his wind pipe, operated to remove scar tissue. But Sam simply couldn’t breathe.&lt;br /&gt;Finally on September 13th they operated again using part of his own rib to keep his airways open for good.&lt;br /&gt;Now Sam is back at home breathing unaided and talking like any other two year old – their ordeal is finally over.&lt;br /&gt;﻿﻿﻿ &lt;br /&gt;﻿﻿ &lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TKRaXgoSNAI/AAAAAAAAAOw/C71nalUoj0U/s1600/hannah+&amp;amp;+wayne.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TKRaXgoSNAI/AAAAAAAAAOw/C71nalUoj0U/s200/hannah+&amp;amp;+wayne.JPG" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Hannah &amp;amp; Wayne&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿﻿ ﻿﻿﻿ Hannah, who’s 31, said: “Sam’s been a real fighter but at one point doctors thought he would never be able to breathe normally again. It’s funny to think that a bit of his own rib means he can lead a normal life.”&amp;nbsp;﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TKRaDcEgHyI/AAAAAAAAAOs/vET_GnkK8is/s1600/sam+home.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TKRaDcEgHyI/AAAAAAAAAOs/vET_GnkK8is/s200/sam+home.JPG" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sam just before his tracheoctomy was removed this month&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-4070763084143605197?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/4070763084143605197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-thought-my-son-was-having-tantrum-but.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/4070763084143605197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/4070763084143605197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-thought-my-son-was-having-tantrum-but.html' title='I thought my son was having a tantrum but he was trapped in his own body'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TKRY83YDHkI/AAAAAAAAAOk/QOq6vRIPoBg/s72-c/sam+before.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-2145677589125206270</id><published>2010-09-24T10:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-24T10:37:41.395-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dentist disaster</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TJzhnwubFII/AAAAAAAAAOg/mZXcVmABEVE/s1600/real+people0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TJzhnwubFII/AAAAAAAAAOg/mZXcVmABEVE/s320/real+people0001.jpg" width="243" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Read this week's Real People magazine to see just how a visit to the dentist changed Frances Corcoran's life forever....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-2145677589125206270?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/2145677589125206270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/09/dentist-disaster.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/2145677589125206270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/2145677589125206270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/09/dentist-disaster.html' title='Dentist disaster'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TJzhnwubFII/AAAAAAAAAOg/mZXcVmABEVE/s72-c/real+people0001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-8614154381235762913</id><published>2010-09-24T10:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-24T10:35:06.489-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I named my daughter after my teenage love and she brought us back together</title><content type='html'>Carla Poulson came round after another epileptic fit and looked up into her mother’s face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TJzgTF5OIvI/AAAAAAAAAOU/f0N5MD9CS-8/s1600/carla+&amp;amp;+lee.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="141" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TJzgTF5OIvI/AAAAAAAAAOU/f0N5MD9CS-8/s200/carla+&amp;amp;+lee.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Carla &amp;amp; Lee in the 80s&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;“I want Lee!” she sobbed. Her mum was distraught. Carla was 15 and had been in love until her parents moved to Marbella, Spain, and took her and her younger brother with them.&lt;br /&gt;Carla and Lee had been devoted to each other, Lee had always been there for Carla during her regular fits, calmed her when she came round. But now she’d lost him forever.&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TJzhC5P1KuI/AAAAAAAAAOc/BL8p4E8tLPE/s1600/carla+&amp;amp;+lee+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TJzhC5P1KuI/AAAAAAAAAOc/BL8p4E8tLPE/s200/carla+&amp;amp;+lee+1.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Carla &amp;amp; Lee&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ Carla came back to England after a few years. Lee was long gone and she met and married her husband. They went on to have three children together but Carla couldn’t stop thinking about Lee. If their song, Starship’s Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now, came on the radio she would burst into tears. Her husband wasn’t supportive at all and finally he ran off with a younger woman.&lt;br /&gt;She was left depressed and low, would look at the happy photos of her and Lee together from years before. She met another bloke but he didn’t measure up to Lee either and it fizzled out. But a few months later she realised she was pregnant. It gave her the boot she needed to sort herself out and when her gorgeous baby girl was born she named her Lily – Lee’s little brother had always called him `Lee Lee’ and Carla thought it would be the only way he’d ever be in her life again.&lt;br /&gt;Two months later she had a message on a social networking site. It was Lee, he’d found her! He’d been married too, but that had ended as his wife had got so fed up of him always talking about Carla. She confessed that she’d named her daughter after him and the couple arranged to meet.&lt;br /&gt;﻿ &lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TJzgzUbbMQI/AAAAAAAAAOY/WbriROumCWk/s1600/carla,+lee+&amp;amp;+lilly.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="141" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TJzgzUbbMQI/AAAAAAAAAOY/WbriROumCWk/s200/carla,+lee+&amp;amp;+lilly.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Carla, Lee &amp;amp; Lilly&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;﻿ Carla had never been so nervous in her life but as soon as she saw Lee he was just the same. Now the couple have moved in together and Lee is raising Lily as his own.&lt;br /&gt;Carla, who’s 38, said: “I thought I’d lost Lee forever. But after 20 years I think my little girl brought us back together and now nothing really is going to stop us now.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-8614154381235762913?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/8614154381235762913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-named-my-daughter-after-my-teenage.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/8614154381235762913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/8614154381235762913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-named-my-daughter-after-my-teenage.html' title='I named my daughter after my teenage love and she brought us back together'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TJzgTF5OIvI/AAAAAAAAAOU/f0N5MD9CS-8/s72-c/carla+&amp;+lee.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-2694605550840888146</id><published>2010-09-08T00:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-08T00:46:48.800-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My son was kidnapped more than 20 years ago and now we can’t understand each other</title><content type='html'>Eileen Vanes had given up hope of ever seeing her son again.&lt;br /&gt;Twenty four years ago her Spanish husband had kidnapped their son. Eileen had met Juan on holiday and she’d moved to Spain to marry him. They’d had son Carlos and daughter Alex but he’d treated her like a slave. When his business failed they moved back to Britain, but one day Juan disappeared with Carlos. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TIc-R74BbPI/AAAAAAAAANY/S_mJwtozsqg/s1600/eileen+%26+carlos.BMP" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TIc-R74BbPI/AAAAAAAAANY/S_mJwtozsqg/s200/eileen+%26+carlos.BMP" width="185" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Eileen was desperate, finally found that he’d taken him back to Spain. Juan told her she’d never see Carlos again and if she brought Alex to Spain she’d never see her again either.&lt;br /&gt;She fought through the courts, enlisted the help of her Euro MP, even wrote to the PM. But Spain wasn’t a full member of the EU and there were no agreements in place. No one would help Eileen.&lt;br /&gt;She carried on sending Carlos letters and presents. But the presents would be returned smashed and the letters torn into pieces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The years went by and Eileen remarried, but she thought about her son every day, still sent letters and cards, tried phoning, but never got anywhere – didn’t know where he was anymore.&lt;br /&gt;Daughter Alex grew up and had children of her own. Then in January of this year Alex was online and got a message. It was her brother Carlos’ fiancée, Miraya. She could speak a little English and said Carlos was desperate to get in touch, wanted to speak to his mum. Alex phoned Eileen, couldn’t believe it. Eileen hadn’t spoken Spanish in more than 20 years but she didn’t hesitate and shaking, she called her son.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carlos had never been allowed to speak English by his dad and had lost the use of it, so they talked in Spanish. It was the hardest thing Eileen had done, she wanted to say so much… but couldn’t.&lt;br /&gt;Carlos flew over the following week and they were reunited at the airport for the first time in 24 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carlos explained that his dad had told him that she had abandoned him. He'd told Carlos his mum had come back to Spain but never wanted to see him. He thought Eileen had never wanted him. &lt;br /&gt;But his grandmother had just died and on her deathbed told Carlos. “Your mum is an angel. You’ve been lied to. Go and find her!” It had taken him months but finally he’d found them.&lt;br /&gt;Ironically Carlos and his sister couldn’t say a word to each other as Alex hated her dad so much she’d never learned Spanish.&lt;br /&gt;For Eileen it was as if they’d never been apart. Her Spanish got better the more she spoke to Carlos and soon they’d filled in all the gaps. Eileen and hubby Peter have been to Spain to stay with Carlos, Miraya and their baby son twice since then and Carlos and Alex are both going to evening classes to learn each other’s languages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eileen, who’s 53, said: “I thought I’d lost Carlos forever. Twenty four years is too long to be separated, but we’re proof that it’s never too late and now we’ve got the rest of our lives to be a family again.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TIc_U2FzH7I/AAAAAAAAAOA/2s7z3qxnvXw/s1600/eileen1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" ox="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TIc_U2FzH7I/AAAAAAAAAOA/2s7z3qxnvXw/s320/eileen1.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-2694605550840888146?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/2694605550840888146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-son-was-kidnapped-more-than-20-years.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/2694605550840888146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/2694605550840888146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-son-was-kidnapped-more-than-20-years.html' title='My son was kidnapped more than 20 years ago and now we can’t understand each other'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TIc-R74BbPI/AAAAAAAAANY/S_mJwtozsqg/s72-c/eileen+%26+carlos.BMP' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-8911009595468412234</id><published>2010-07-22T04:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-22T04:14:24.728-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I hold my dead baby's hand at night</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TEgmu2LpJlI/AAAAAAAAANI/bQLJbUJRtiI/s1600/loveit.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" hw="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TEgmu2LpJlI/AAAAAAAAANI/bQLJbUJRtiI/s320/loveit.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Sian Jones and her sister Carys were over the moon when they found they were pregnant at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;As the weeks turned into months they started planning.&amp;nbsp;Both would go to the same school,&amp;nbsp;they would celebrate their 18th together, be more like brother and sister than cousins - their whole family was caught up in the excitement.&lt;br /&gt;When Carys gave birth to baby Megan, Sian was the first to congratulate her- now she had just four weeks to go.&lt;br /&gt;But the day before her baby was due, doctors couldn't find a heartbeat.&lt;br /&gt;She gave birth to baby Dylan. He was stillborn but perfect in every way and the family said their goodbyes to the precious boy.&lt;br /&gt;Sian was inconsolable. Gavin tried to hide away all the baby things but Sian wanted his room untouched. &lt;br /&gt;Sister Carys wanted to know whether Sian could cope with seeing Megan. She wanted to see her niece and the little baby helped keep her going every day.&lt;br /&gt;That Christmas was horrendous and when Carys went back to work she told her sister she wouldn’t hold her to her promise. But Sian needed to. So she cared for baby Megan while Carys went to work. She was a constant reminder of little Dylan, but Megan gave her a reason to get up every day.&lt;br /&gt;Meantime Gavin wanted his own tribute, he went out and got a tattoo right across his back of baby Dylan’s hand and footprints so Sian could touch her baby whenever she needed to.&lt;br /&gt;Five months later Sian found out she was pregnant again. But this time there were no celebrations, no excitement. She concentrated on caring for Megan and didn’t dare hope that this time would bring her baby home.&lt;br /&gt;Baby Isabelle was born last October. She’s perfect and she’s brought joy back into her mum’s life. Little Megan dotes on her cousin too.&lt;br /&gt;The sisters now have two daughters&amp;nbsp;who will grow up like sisters too, but they’ll never forget Dylan.&lt;br /&gt;Sian, who’s 27, said: “Every day Megan was a reminder of my poor Dylan, but every day she gave me a reason to keep living. Now I’ve got my own miracle too and the two girls will grow up together. But whatever happens, every night I stroke Dylan’s hand and tell him how much he’ll always be loved.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-8911009595468412234?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/8911009595468412234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-hold-my-dead-babys-hand-at-night.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/8911009595468412234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/8911009595468412234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-hold-my-dead-babys-hand-at-night.html' title='I hold my dead baby&apos;s hand at night'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TEgmu2LpJlI/AAAAAAAAANI/bQLJbUJRtiI/s72-c/loveit.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-6849804296899786146</id><published>2010-07-15T04:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-15T04:33:56.170-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Save the best till last</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TD7yEQZKaAI/AAAAAAAAANA/vjKcP5Igoes/s1600/tabs1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" rw="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TD7yEQZKaAI/AAAAAAAAANA/vjKcP5Igoes/s320/tabs1.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Kathryn's heartwarming story is in Take a Break Summer 2 - out now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-6849804296899786146?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/6849804296899786146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/07/save-best-till-last.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/6849804296899786146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/6849804296899786146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/07/save-best-till-last.html' title='Save the best till last'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TD7yEQZKaAI/AAAAAAAAANA/vjKcP5Igoes/s72-c/tabs1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-8340366696859477751</id><published>2010-07-13T06:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-13T06:31:58.062-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I taught my dad how to change a nappy</title><content type='html'>Tina Rhodes almost dropped the phone with shock. “Pregnant! But you’re 55!” she blurted out. &lt;br /&gt;Tina’s dad Eric had split from her mum when she was 16. He’d always been a great dad, not hands on as he worked long hours, but always there for them. Tina and her brothers had grown up, had families of their own. Then Eric started dating a woman younger than all of them. They were shocked to start with – but why not?&lt;br /&gt;Now Eric’s partner was pregnant – and what was more incredible was so was Tina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TDxqnzOzL-I/AAAAAAAAAMw/1bp38bkpax4/s1600/tina%26eric.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" rw="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TDxqnzOzL-I/AAAAAAAAAMw/1bp38bkpax4/s200/tina%26eric.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The two women gave birth just two weeks apart. But Eric’s relationship didn’t last and he told his surprised daughter that he was going to bring baby Emily up alone. It would be even more of a challenge as Emily Rose has Spina Bifida.&lt;br /&gt;Eric gave up work to become a full time carer. Tina was there for him too, showed him how to all the practical stuff, change nappies, make up a feed. Everything he needed to know. Tina’s mum, his ex-wife, helped out to, treats Eric’s daughter like a grandchild.&lt;br /&gt;The family have all pulled together and Tina was at the gates next to Eric when their daughters started school together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TDxquI2dABI/AAAAAAAAAM4/OgwbcAyAOIY/s1600/millie%26emily2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" rw="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TDxquI2dABI/AAAAAAAAAM4/OgwbcAyAOIY/s200/millie%26emily2.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Tina’s daughter Millie and Emily are now six and in the same class at school. They are best friends and Millie helps Emily cope with her disability. Tina and Eric, now 61, share the school run between them and there’s been quite a few raised eyebrows among the other mums, but now they all admire him for what he’s done.&lt;br /&gt;None of them could believe to start with that Millie and Emily are aunty and niece.&lt;br /&gt;Tina, who’s 35, said: “We were all stunned when dad told us he was going to be a dad again. But he’s been fantastic and given up everything to care for Emily. I think its amazing that I walk my sister to school who’s also by daughter’s aunty and best friend.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-8340366696859477751?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/8340366696859477751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-taught-my-dad-how-to-change-nappy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/8340366696859477751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/8340366696859477751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-taught-my-dad-how-to-change-nappy.html' title='I taught my dad how to change a nappy'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TDxqnzOzL-I/AAAAAAAAAMw/1bp38bkpax4/s72-c/tina%26eric.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-6642407169506187665</id><published>2010-06-29T06:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-13T06:12:18.378-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sell My Story Newsletter</title><content type='html'>The temperatures outside might be hot, but it’s even hotter in the Sell My Story offices. It’s turning out to be our busiest year EVER! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We’ve been talking to people the length and breadth of Britain who want to tell their story to the magazines, newspapers and television – some are sweet love stories, others make you laugh out loud and more tell of battles against the odds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This month:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• We arranged for Harriet’s incredible story of how she lost 13 stone in just 12 months to appear in Now, Bella and The Sunday Mirror. She’s also lined up to chat with Lorraine Kelly on GMTV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TDxkt-su-pI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/p524c31BnKw/s1600/chat1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" rw="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TDxkt-su-pI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/p524c31BnKw/s200/chat1.JPG" width="151" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;• Tanya trapped her paedophile stepdad by recording him on her mobile phone. She got justice through the courts and told her story to Chat magazine. &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TDxloF4SY3I/AAAAAAAAAMY/rh8c1iOI_1s/s1600/realpeople1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" rw="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TDxloF4SY3I/AAAAAAAAAMY/rh8c1iOI_1s/s200/realpeople1.JPG" width="151" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Laura appeared in Real People magazine this week talking about how she’s battled anorexia for 11 years – at one stage she weighed just three and a half stone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Kathryn and Janet are appearing in Take a Break Summer Special. Kathryn is returning to Gibraltar in September to marry her teenage sweetheart at the very spot they first met 16 years ago. While Janet had left her job, sold her house and was about to travel the world when she met the love of her life… did she stay or did she go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you’ve got a story you’d love to see published get in touch as the magazines are clamouring for amazing tales to fill their pages at the moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-6642407169506187665?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/6642407169506187665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/06/sell-my-story-newsletter.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/6642407169506187665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/6642407169506187665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/06/sell-my-story-newsletter.html' title='Sell My Story Newsletter'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TDxkt-su-pI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/p524c31BnKw/s72-c/chat1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-8293087254771931235</id><published>2010-06-23T14:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-13T06:18:06.324-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I waited 18 years to see the world – but that’s when I found true love</title><content type='html'>Janet Walker had always wanted to travel, dreamed of crossing the globe. She left school and got a job, started saving to follow her dream. But a course of antibiotics meant that she found herself a single mum at the age of 21.&lt;br /&gt;So she put her dreams on hold and concentrated on bringing up her daughter. She concentrated on work and she still flicked through the travel magazines, still dreamed of distant shores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TDxnX7f5LKI/AAAAAAAAAMg/Z48ygn4cgyg/s1600/janet1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="149" rw="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TDxnX7f5LKI/AAAAAAAAAMg/Z48ygn4cgyg/s200/janet1.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;At the age of 18 her daughter went to university. Janet seized her chance. She sold the house and gave up her job. She bought a one way ticket to Portugal and got a job as a waitress. It was heaven. After five months she returned to the UK for a family wedding and to see everyone. It was a brief visit before she jetted off to her next destination – Tenerife.&lt;br /&gt;Her family and friends couldn’t’ believe how happy she was. But that was when she met Benny and fell head over heels in love two days before she was due to fly off again.&lt;br /&gt;Janet didn’t know what to do, whether to get on the plane – this was her dream, but there was something about Benny – she’d never found true love in her life before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Friends told her to go so she caught her flight. But Benny didn’t give up and they spent hundreds on calls.&amp;nbsp;Just a week after she flew out she arrived at Bristol airport to be met by a man she’d only spent a few hours with. &lt;br /&gt;It was a huge risk, but they married last summer in front of family and friends and Janet has settled back down in the UK.&lt;br /&gt;Janet, who’s 45, said: “I’ve spent my whole life dreaming of travelling and when I got the chance I didn’t go – all because I finally found Mr Right.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-8293087254771931235?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/8293087254771931235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-waited-18-years-to-see-world-but.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/8293087254771931235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/8293087254771931235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-waited-18-years-to-see-world-but.html' title='I waited 18 years to see the world – but that’s when I found true love'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TDxnX7f5LKI/AAAAAAAAAMg/Z48ygn4cgyg/s72-c/janet1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-4389453776752099862</id><published>2010-06-17T03:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-23T07:14:08.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I lost 13 stone in 12 months!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBuMn1KIMZI/AAAAAAAAAKo/a1YlM8gRKIw/s1600/harriet+before.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" qu="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBuMn1KIMZI/AAAAAAAAAKo/a1YlM8gRKIw/s200/harriet+before.JPG" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Harriet Jenkins had always known she was big, she squeezed in to size 28 clothes, could hardly walk let alone run and had to cope with jeers and taunts when she was out in public.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBuMulnDVwI/AAAAAAAAAKw/pOGPmpiSYCs/s1600/harriet08.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" qu="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBuMulnDVwI/AAAAAAAAAKw/pOGPmpiSYCs/s200/harriet08.JPG" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Harriet, now 24, even used to read stories in magazines about women who’d changed their lives by losing weight, but she thought that she’d got too big to diet, would never be able to change.&lt;br /&gt;She’d binge on family bars of Dairy Milk and Galaxy, wolf down packets of sugary sweets and hide crisps and biscuits in her room.&lt;br /&gt;Then she finally realised she was killing herself and joined a Slimming Club she was left shell shocked when she found out how much she actually weighed – 26 and a half stone.&lt;br /&gt;Harriet, from Southampton, said: “I knew I was big, but because our family scales didn’t go up any higher than 20 stone I didn’t realise how heavy I was. It was the biggest wakeup call of my life.”&lt;br /&gt;Now Harriet, who’s 5ft 9ins, has shed 13 stone in just 12 months through diet, exercise and sheer determination - and she’s changed her life forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;She said: "Its been tough, but really worth it. I lost all that weight without a gastric band or bypass, I did it for me and I feel really proud of myself."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBuMY3AjZ7I/AAAAAAAAAKg/S2Z8STJm7qo/s1600/hmay.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" qu="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBuMY3AjZ7I/AAAAAAAAAKg/S2Z8STJm7qo/s200/hmay.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBuNAx6Q3vI/AAAAAAAAAK4/fBrr7iNh4AE/s1600/harrietjune.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" qu="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBuNAx6Q3vI/AAAAAAAAAK4/fBrr7iNh4AE/s320/harrietjune.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-4389453776752099862?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/top-stories/2010/06/13/teacher-sheds-13st-to-become-a-real-calendar-girl-115875-22328982/' title='I lost 13 stone in 12 months!'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/4389453776752099862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-lost-13-stone-in-12-months.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/4389453776752099862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/4389453776752099862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-lost-13-stone-in-12-months.html' title='I lost 13 stone in 12 months!'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBuMn1KIMZI/AAAAAAAAAKo/a1YlM8gRKIw/s72-c/harriet+before.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-384698933597190444</id><published>2010-06-11T02:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T03:44:05.625-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My little running boy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBIITgLtlwI/AAAAAAAAAJY/iv-ForJgIMI/s1600/club.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" qu="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBIITgLtlwI/AAAAAAAAAJY/iv-ForJgIMI/s200/club.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;When baby Shane Rees was born his mum Ceri didn't think he would walk let alone run.&lt;br /&gt;It had been tough enough as Shane's dad was killed in a car accident just two months before Shane was born.&lt;br /&gt;His dad had been a sports fan, had talked about how he'd teach his son to play football and rugby.&lt;br /&gt;But now with club feet it looked like baby Shane would struggle to walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBITYtNSlBI/AAAAAAAAAJo/QVYrn4ar5rA/s1600/club1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" qu="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBITYtNSlBI/AAAAAAAAAJo/QVYrn4ar5rA/s320/club1.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The little boy went through gruelling treatment to straight his legs and cut tendons. As the years went past his feet started to change shape, looked more normal. He needed special shoes with inserts but he started walking normally too.&lt;br /&gt;Last September he started school and Ceri was worried about how he'd cope.&lt;br /&gt;But a few months later teachers phoned Ceri at home. They were having problems with Shane. They couldn’t stop him running. Ceri didn’t know whether to be angry or overjoyed.&lt;br /&gt;Every afternoon Shane suddenly jumps to his feet in class and runs out. He sprints around the playing fields again and again and then around the hall. Teachers can’t catch him, just wait until he’s got it out of his system and then take him back to class.&lt;br /&gt;Ceri, who’s 32, said: “I think if he carries on like this his dad’s dream could come true after all – perhaps one day he’ll score a try for Wales. He’s been through so much that just to see him walking, let alone running is a miracle.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-384698933597190444?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/384698933597190444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/06/my-little-running-boy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/384698933597190444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/384698933597190444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/06/my-little-running-boy.html' title='My little running boy'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBIITgLtlwI/AAAAAAAAAJY/iv-ForJgIMI/s72-c/club.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-6079190877345192584</id><published>2010-06-09T03:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T03:52:33.761-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love over a coffin nearly killed my bloke with shock</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TA9oN5KuFZI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/6ED3J7aJrxs/s1600/debbie%26jason3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" qu="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TA9oN5KuFZI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/6ED3J7aJrxs/s400/debbie%26jason3.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Debbie Holmes thought the last place she would find love would be at a funeral.&lt;br /&gt;But when she helped organise her stepdad's funeral she couldn't help but fall for Jason, the dishy funeral director. He felt the same and two months later the two got together.&lt;br /&gt;Jason proposed but Debbie kept putting him off, didn't want a traditional wedding. then she had an idea, decided to&amp;nbsp;surprise Jason.&lt;br /&gt;She organised a reception for 80 family and friends in secret.&amp;nbsp;He carried on oblivious while she held whispered phone conversations in the next room, organising seating plans, flowers, the cake, DJ and all the invites.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone invited had to be in on the secret too, even his mum, family, best mates and next door neighbours.&lt;br /&gt;With three weeks to go she told him she'd arranged a small registry office wedding for 11 of them - that was enough for Jason and he was thrilled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBIU_hnRyHI/AAAAAAAAAJw/mdkn3mi3nI8/s1600/debbie%26jason1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" qu="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBIU_hnRyHI/AAAAAAAAAJw/mdkn3mi3nI8/s320/debbie%26jason1.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The ceremony was lovely and Debbie told him they were going for a quiet lunch at a hotel. All 80 guests were quiet as a mouse waiting for them. She led him into the room and he tried to leave, thought they'd walked in on someone else's wedding. Then the penny dropped and everyone cheered.&lt;br /&gt;Debbie, who’s 42, said: “We met in the strangest way possible so its only fitting that our wedding day was a bit different too. It was a fantastic day and the best party I've ever been to!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-6079190877345192584?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/6079190877345192584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/06/love-over-coffin-nearly-killed-my-bloke.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/6079190877345192584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/6079190877345192584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/06/love-over-coffin-nearly-killed-my-bloke.html' title='Love over a coffin nearly killed my bloke with shock'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TA9oN5KuFZI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/6ED3J7aJrxs/s72-c/debbie%26jason3.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-4222874324448789479</id><published>2010-06-09T03:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T03:55:56.982-07:00</updated><title type='text'>mum's deathbed legacy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBIVtl_URrI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/DX-rnEJ4Fd8/s1600/rachel+%26+mum.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="154" qu="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBIVtl_URrI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/DX-rnEJ4Fd8/s200/rachel+%26+mum.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Rachel Hope hadn't spoken to her family for a year. She was always in trouble as a teenager, shouted so much at her dad that finally he refused to talk to her or acknowledge her.&lt;br /&gt;Her mum tried to be go-between, but it just didn't work and finally, at the age of 16, Rachel stormed out without a backwards glance.&lt;br /&gt;She met her partner Damian and got treatment for her anger - turned out she ADHD.&lt;br /&gt;Then she got a call. Her mum had been taken into hospital. She was seriously ill. She was going to die soon. but so much had happened Rachel just couldn't go. Two months later Rachel found out she was pregnant. All she wanted was her mum.&lt;br /&gt;She forced herself into the hospital, was shaking by the time she walked into the ward.&lt;br /&gt;She barely recognised her mum, she looked so ill. It was an emotional reunion and then finally Rachel broke the news that she was pregnant. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBIV3crrFvI/AAAAAAAAAKA/4m6NHfhXjr4/s1600/rachel+%26+mum1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" qu="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBIV3crrFvI/AAAAAAAAAKA/4m6NHfhXjr4/s320/rachel+%26+mum1.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;After that Rachel was at the hospital every day and each time her mum had more advice for her, wanted to tell her everything she'd learned from bringing up her own family.&lt;br /&gt;Her mum knew she would never live to see the baby born, wouldn’t ever live to be a grandmother, so instead she needed to pass on everything she could to her daughter in the short time she had left.&lt;br /&gt;“Remember!” she said one day. “If it all gets too much and you get cross with the baby, just turn around and take five deep breaths and it will all be better….”&lt;br /&gt;Six weeks after mum and daughter were reunited Deborah passed away. She was just 50.&lt;br /&gt;Now the family had to unite to make the arrangements. Rachel found herself face to face with her dad. They looked at each other and smiled through the tears.&lt;br /&gt;“Peace?” “Peace.”&lt;br /&gt;Baby Emily was born in October 2009 and her granddad was one of the first to hold her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBIWMRQUnXI/AAAAAAAAAKI/3ZTEiBmb7f4/s1600/rachel%26emily.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" qu="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBIWMRQUnXI/AAAAAAAAAKI/3ZTEiBmb7f4/s320/rachel%26emily.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Now Rachel talks or sees her dad every single day.&amp;nbsp;Its like all those years have been forgotten - he calls Emily the light of his life.&lt;br /&gt;Rachel, who’s 20, said: “I miss mum every day but she made sure I’d be okay. I'm bringing&amp;nbsp;Emily up just like she advised. If it all gets too much I take five deep breaths, think of her and everything’s okay.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-4222874324448789479?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/4222874324448789479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/06/advice-from-heart.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/4222874324448789479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/4222874324448789479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/06/advice-from-heart.html' title='mum&apos;s deathbed legacy'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBIVtl_URrI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/DX-rnEJ4Fd8/s72-c/rachel+%26+mum.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-3400645287279117153</id><published>2010-05-19T10:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T03:43:02.057-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I almost starved myself to death</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S_Qlsc2YZfI/AAAAAAAAAJI/-DvO6cyOPmM/s1600/laura+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S_Qlsc2YZfI/AAAAAAAAAJI/-DvO6cyOPmM/s1600/laura+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S_QlZ2VJ88I/AAAAAAAAAJA/UAVryWDfkt4/s1600/laura+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S_QlZ2VJ88I/AAAAAAAAAJA/UAVryWDfkt4/s200/laura+1.JPG" width="152" wt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Laura Hepple had to be helped to the scales and when she stood on them they barely moved. Three and a half stone. The only way to save her life was to section her - and even that might not save her.&lt;br /&gt;Laura Hepple, 27, had battled anorexia for 11 years. She’d been a happy healthy teenager, but had lacked confidence. At beauty school a girl teased her about having a belly and it sparked off an&amp;nbsp;obsessession&amp;nbsp;with losing weight.&lt;br /&gt;She was in and out of eating disorder units and treatment centres, but all they tried to do was put weight back on her rather than treat the real cause.&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBITEGGwnlI/AAAAAAAAAJg/T3CtSVTwNc8/s1600/laura+5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" qu="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/TBITEGGwnlI/AAAAAAAAAJg/T3CtSVTwNc8/s320/laura+5.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, last autumn her weight&amp;nbsp;dropped to&amp;nbsp;three and a half stone. Sectioning her was the only way to save her life.&lt;br /&gt;Laura was terrified by the other inmates -&amp;nbsp;one woman cut her wrists in front of her, another set fire to the corridor. She&amp;nbsp;would lock herself in her room for hours. It meant she had&amp;nbsp;time to think about her eating disorder.&amp;nbsp;This&amp;nbsp;was her last chance and she had to confront her demons - it wasn't about food at all, it was about loving herself.It took four months but at the beginning of March Laura was finally released and back to a normal weight.&lt;br /&gt;This&amp;nbsp;time she knows it’s different. Food doesn’t rule her life anymore, she starts at dance school in September and&amp;nbsp;the biggest joy of all – her sister is expecting her first baby in October and Laura is going to be an aunty.&lt;br /&gt;Laura, who’s 27, said: “Anorexia has ruled my life for 11 years. If I let it take hold again I know I’m going to die – my body won’t survive it again. There's so much to live for that I had to win this fight.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-3400645287279117153?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/3400645287279117153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-almost-starved-myself-to-death.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/3400645287279117153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/3400645287279117153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-almost-starved-myself-to-death.html' title='I almost starved myself to death'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S_QlZ2VJ88I/AAAAAAAAAJA/UAVryWDfkt4/s72-c/laura+1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-4849532555671758385</id><published>2010-04-30T03:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T03:09:11.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I was so shy mum and dad paid for me to strip!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S9qrWLb74WI/AAAAAAAAAIw/HngQKjStlj4/s1600/lucy+teenager.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S9qrWLb74WI/AAAAAAAAAIw/HngQKjStlj4/s320/lucy+teenager.JPG" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S9qrcDeY2ZI/AAAAAAAAAI4/UBEIFOQWKpA/s1600/lucynow.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S9qrcDeY2ZI/AAAAAAAAAI4/UBEIFOQWKpA/s320/lucynow.JPG" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucy Hawkins cowered as the girls stood over her.&lt;br /&gt;“Witch! Witch! Witch!” they chanted.&lt;br /&gt;Big-spectacled Lucy tried to keep her head down at school but still the bullies picked on her. Ugly geeky Lucy wanted to be a marine biologist, wouldn’t say boo to a goose and hoped the world wouldn’t notice her.&lt;br /&gt;Finally she went to university, to study graphic design. Then one night she saw a poster advertising classes to learn burlesque.&lt;br /&gt;She’d seen the women on the television, had watched in admiration. She wanted to do the classes, but was scared. That weekend she went home, told her parents and how she wished she was brave enough to do them. They were taken aback, hadn’t realised their shy daughter even thought that like. They were totally against it. Lucy didn’t have the cash, went back to uni dejected. But then she got a call from her mum. Her parents would pay for her to go to the classes.&lt;br /&gt;Lucy was shaking with fear when she arrived. The teacher was gorgeous and she didn’t think she could ever do anything like that. But the other girls in the class were scared too and they all pulled together.&lt;br /&gt;As the weeks went by her confidence grew, she changed the way she looked, met her boyfriend and started to feel great about herself.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone noticed the difference in her, couldn’t believe it was the same shy Lucy. At the end of the course the class did a performance at a local club, they went down so well they got regular bookings. It’s all gone mad and Lucy now performs solo too although she juggles it with her studies.&lt;br /&gt;Her parents were shocked when she told them she was performing, but they came to see her and are her biggest fans. Even her boyfriend loves her performances.&lt;br /&gt;Lucy, who’s 21, said: “People see the photos of me from just a few years ago and can’t believe it’s me. I thought I was a nobody but thanks to my parents and my teacher, who I call my burley godmother, I’m a different person and I’m loving every moment.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-4849532555671758385?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/4849532555671758385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-was-so-shy-mum-and-dad-paid-for-me-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/4849532555671758385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/4849532555671758385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-was-so-shy-mum-and-dad-paid-for-me-to.html' title='I was so shy mum and dad paid for me to strip!'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S9qrWLb74WI/AAAAAAAAAIw/HngQKjStlj4/s72-c/lucy+teenager.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-1546745986088590122</id><published>2010-04-29T09:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T09:37:45.674-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bullied beauty saved by dad's secret</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Sara Morgan had always been told she was pretty but had never thought anything of it. That was until family and friends told her to enter her local beauty pageant last year.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;She came first, but instead of celebrating, her life became a misery.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Sara, now 18, had never been bullied before, but now she got eggs thrown at her in the street, tormented on social networking sites, received threatening phone calls and texts – even her boyfriend’s car was damaged.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Sara didn’t want to go out anymore, started dressing down, stopped wearing makeup.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;That’s when dad Colin stepped in. Sara adored her dad, he’s always been her hero. Because Colin works as a body guard for television and film stars and foreign royalty. He’s even guarded the former president Bill Clinton. Now he guards an Arabian princess.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Colin could see what the bullies were doing to his beloved daughter and sat down to talk to her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;“I was bullied at school,” he confessed. Sara couldn’t believe her ears. Her dad is a 4th Dan Aikido master.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;He told her how the bullies used to rub dog poo in his face, beat him up and finally drove him out of school at the age of 16.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;“But I was determined not to let them beat me,” he told Sara. “I made myself strong, I trained in martial arts. In fact those bullies changed my life. I went on to train as a bodyguard because of my martial arts skills. If I hadn’t decided to stand up to them then I wouldn’t be as happy and successful as I am today.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;It meant her dad inspired her to fight back. She ignored the taunts, the emails, texts. Decided to enter another competition. And she’s just won. It’s the British leg of an international award and she will now fly to America to compete in the finals.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;She’s also started giving anti-bullying talks at local schools to encourage other youngsters to report what’s happening and not let the bullies get away with it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Amanda, who’s 18, said: “My dad is my hero and when I found out he’d been bullied it made me realise it can happen to anyone. He’s an amazing person and inspired me to stand up to them and not let them end my dreams.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Colin, who’s 45, added: “School only taught me one thing - and that’s how horrible some kids can be. I wanted to go round there and sort out the bullies myself but that’s not the way to do it. Sara’s done it for herself and I’m so proud of her.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S9m1noCOUcI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/Sme8J04BWfM/s1600/bullied+beauty.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S9m1noCOUcI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/Sme8J04BWfM/s320/bullied+beauty.JPG" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-1546745986088590122?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/1546745986088590122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/04/bullied-beauty-saved-by-dads-secret.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/1546745986088590122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/1546745986088590122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/04/bullied-beauty-saved-by-dads-secret.html' title='Bullied beauty saved by dad&apos;s secret'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S9m1noCOUcI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/Sme8J04BWfM/s72-c/bullied+beauty.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-6329952807440088488</id><published>2010-04-19T10:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-19T10:20:17.212-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My long lost friend stole my bloke – but she’s in for a big surprise!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S8yOjvpU6WI/AAAAAAAAAHo/ajWMgtZEeQA/s1600/Sharon_and_Bob.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S8yOjvpU6WI/AAAAAAAAAHo/ajWMgtZEeQA/s200/Sharon_and_Bob.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Sharon Gless couldn’t believe it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kelly!” she shouted across the aisles in Asda. The other woman turned round and a huge grin spread across her face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sharon!” The two women ran up to each other and hugged.The two used to be best mates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S8yOyB8zg7I/AAAAAAAAAHw/xd0_EbyQl2E/s1600/Bob.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S8yOyB8zg7I/AAAAAAAAAHw/xd0_EbyQl2E/s200/Bob.jpg" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;They’d worked together and got on so well they’d go out together after work, shared their lives and hopes with each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Kelly left the job and moved away, they drifted apart and hadn’t seen each other for 12 year. Sharon had always meant to try and find Kelly, had always hoped to bump into her. But 10 years ago she’d met Bob, they’d fallen in love and had a daughter – life had moved on. Kelly had a daughter too, a year younger than Sharon’s. She’d split up from her ex and was single. So Sharon invited her round with her daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S8yO5M5qsWI/AAAAAAAAAH4/MYBoApD0Eeo/s1600/Bob_and_Kelly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S8yO5M5qsWI/AAAAAAAAAH4/MYBoApD0Eeo/s200/Bob_and_Kelly.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;That night she told Bob all about Kelly. She knew he’d love to meet her. He was sweet and gentle.&lt;br /&gt;Since he'd lost his job as a cabinet maker three years before, he'd become a bit withdrawn.&lt;br /&gt;Now he sat around and played on his X-box all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He also had another habit, initially one Sharon found harder to accept. Bob enjoyed dressing in women’s clothes. By day he would wear women’s knickers under his normal clothes. In the evening he would put on lacy knickers, a bra, a skirt, bright lip stick and a wig. He'd then sit and watch telly for the rest of the evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Sharon didn’t mind really, she'd come to accept it, even helping him buy his underwear. She’d loved Bob for the 10 years they’d been together and it all seemed a bit of harmless fun. She was thrilled when he got on with Kelly too. She came round and they played `Guitar Hero’ and Bob excelled himself as usual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the next weeks Bob would take Kelly’s daughter to karate with their daughter. It was great that they all got on so well. Christmas was great and Sharon was looking forward to New Year’s Eve. Then on December 29th Bob announced he was going to stay with his mum. Sharon was dumbfounded. He said he wanted a bit of space. She hadn’t realised anything was wrong. All he took was his x-box, some games and a few clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She went to see Kelly, wanted some friendly advice. But when she got there Kelly admitted that Bob had moved in with her. Over the next few weeks Sharon pleaded with Bob to come home, but all she got back was photos Bob had secretly taken of himself in Kelly's clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three months on and Sharon still cannot believe that her reunion with her old friend has cost her her beloved Bob. Sharon, who’s 38, said: “Even now I didn’t see it coming. They didn’t spend any time alone together – except an hour or so here and there, but our daughters were with them. But one thing he hasn’t told her about yet is the fact that he dresses up in women’s clothes and he’s already dressed up in hers.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bob, 38, said: “I think Sharon’s great but I hadn’t been happy in our relationship for a while. I wanted a clean break. Me and Kelly are really happy together and making a go of it. I haven’t told her about the women's clothes bit yet I know. It's trying to find the right moment.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kelly, 31, added: “It was tough because she was my mate. Were we true to ourselves or ignore how we both felt. We talked about it and wanted to be together. Bob would have left her even if he hadn’t met me. But we’re happy now and that’s what’s important.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Photos: (&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Top&lt;/span&gt;) Sharon &amp;amp; Bob, (&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Middle&lt;/span&gt;) Bob, (&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Bottom&lt;/span&gt;) Kelly &amp;amp; Bob.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-6329952807440088488?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/6329952807440088488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-long-lost-friend-stole-my-bloke-but.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/6329952807440088488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/6329952807440088488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/04/my-long-lost-friend-stole-my-bloke-but.html' title='My long lost friend stole my bloke – but she’s in for a big surprise!'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S8yOjvpU6WI/AAAAAAAAAHo/ajWMgtZEeQA/s72-c/Sharon_and_Bob.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356654723577264849.post-2631724266837990934</id><published>2010-04-08T08:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T03:02:21.617-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When is a bride not a bride?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S9qqoAmbo5I/AAAAAAAAAIo/QpDTve0O7L4/s1600/penny+wedding+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S9qqoAmbo5I/AAAAAAAAAIo/QpDTve0O7L4/s320/penny+wedding+3.JPG" tt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Take a look at this picture. A happy wedding day? Bride and groom celebrating their wedding outside the church?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Wrong. Ross proposed to Penny two and a half years ago, asked her to be his lawful wedded wife. He bought her a huge sparkling engagement ring, booked a dream wedding at Sandals, in Antigua.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;But then he got cold feet. Told Penny his family didn’t want him to marry. Penny was devastated told him they’d been together for eight years, he’d brought her children up from when they were tiny as his own, surely he could make a commitment to her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Instead he went to see the local vicar, persuaded him to carry out a commitment ceremony for them. It’s the ceremony gay and lesbian couples used to have before civil partnership ceremonies and has no legal grounding. The vicar agreed, Penny wasn’t so sure, but thought at least he was declaring his commitment to her in front of family and friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;The church was booked, family and friends invited, nieces and nephews were bridesmaids and pageboys.It should have been perfect, but as the day went on Penny realised it was all fake.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;He didn’t take her to be his lawfully wedded wife at all. The ceremony had no grounding in law, no grounding in anything. They still weren’t man and wife. Her huge sparkler wasn’t a diamond, it was the biggest fake diamond he’d been able to buy and now they’d had a fake wedding.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;To add insult to injury they still went to Sandals on holiday where they had originally booked to get married and she sobbed she watched other women getting married on the beach instead of her. They returned back home and Penny told Ross how she felt, that it had all been a fake, that it wasn’t real. He didn’t understand what was wrong, couldn’t see the problem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;They struggled on but just a year later Penny found out that Ross had started seeing Emma, a pole dancer. Penny confronted him and told him enough was enough. She and her children moved out into a rental property. But the last year had taken its toll and just before Christmas she suffered a mental breakdown, if it wasn’t for her children she doubts she’d be here at all now. She spent several weeks in hospital but now she’s at home with them rebuilding her life and moving on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Penny, who’s 45, said: “I can’t believe he gave me a fake diamond engagement ring and then we had a fake wedding. I’ve been left with nothing from our relationship and a pole dancer is living in my home of 10 years. I must be the only straight woman in Britain who’s taken part in a commitment ceremony and after what it did to me, I hope I’m the last.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ross said: “When I proposed to Penny I really did mean it. But my family put pressure on me not to go ahead. I thought the commitment ceremony was a good compromise but it wasn’t enough for Penny, she kept calling it a fake wedding. I met Emma last September and started seeing her. I thought our relationship was over anyway. Penny is still angry now but I’m getting on with my life.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356654723577264849-2631724266837990934?l=sellmystory.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/' title='When is a bride not a bride?'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/feeds/2631724266837990934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/04/when-is-bride-not-bride_5388.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/2631724266837990934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356654723577264849/posts/default/2631724266837990934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sellmystory.blogspot.com/2010/04/when-is-bride-not-bride_5388.html' title='When is a bride not a bride?'/><author><name>Sell my story</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05418220425660236261</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T489HzupGPU/S9qqoAmbo5I/AAAAAAAAAIo/QpDTve0O7L4/s72-c/penny+wedding+3.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
