The Isle of Skye: The Good, The Bad and the Ugly

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The Isle of Skye is legit an otherworldly realm straight out of a Tolkien novel. One moment, you’re bumping along on a lovely one lane road riddled with potholes, surrounded by strangely-shaped mountains carpeted completely in a soft green and then, you round a bend and you’re somehow in a rough, craggy atmosphere, where a purpley-brown growth is springing out of a mist-covered ground and you are convinced you somehow landed on a planet not in our solar system.

(That was the longest fucking sentence I’ve ever written. It’s probably not even grammatically correct, but we’re just gonna roll with it.)

This is not a homage to Skye. In fact, my favorite part of Skye really had nothing to do with the actual place, as I could have met one of my favorite bloggers (more on that later) in Timbuktu if that was where she lived (and I happened to be traveling to Timbuktu).

This is going to be a post that fully prepares anyone wishing to go to Skye for the good, the bad, and the ugly.

So, let’s just get on with it, eh?

The Good

Really, the best way to show the good side of Skye would be with the pictures I took. So, I’m going to show and not tell. Besides, even my amateur photography would better serve to express its raw beauty than any vocabulary I possess.

This was 10 PM on the Isle of Skye. 

That water, though…

Every conceivable shade of green can be found on Skye.

The coolest coffee shop that served me the best latte I’ve ever had.

The best latte I’ve ever had and my first time trying oat milk = OBSESSED.

Beauty around every bend

The skies really made that green pop.

An old cemetery by the sea

Too beautiful for words

The sheep. OMG the sheep. I loved them so much. I miss those wooly butts so bad.

A stretch of road with no one on it is how I hoped it’d be.

It was so quiet and peaceful at this spot. Right here. Right here is Scotland to me.

It legit looks fake.

What planet is this even?

Out of this freaking world!

Being introspective af

I really hoped we’d see a hobbit at the Fairy Glen.

This is Skye.

This is the Skye I want to never forget.

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A tiny Old Man of Storr 

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Hehehehehe

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Portree

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We got to this one before the hordes invaded.

The Bad

The Roads

Holy shit, the roads. Probably 90% of the roads on Skye are one lane. I don’t even know if that figure is at all accurate, but numbers don’t matter here. You’re gonna feel those one-laners and that’s all that matters.

Not only are the majority of the roads one lane, they are full of locals who don’t have time for tourists and their inept driving. One thing can be said about those locals: they have a system and they all religiously abide by it (You pull over if the pullout is on your side. If it’s on the other side DO NOT, FOR FUCKS SAKE, PULL OVER ON THE OTHER SIDE OR YOU MESS UP THE WHOLE SYSTEM, JANET.)

So, yeah, the actual Skye residents drive like bats out of hell and literally everyone else has no idea what they’re doing.

As if that ain’t bad enough, after every other sheep in the road (that’s not a figure of speech, btw, they are literally in the road) is a pothole the size of any one of the Kardashians’ massive fake asses, and considering the entire island is only 639 square miles, that’s a lot of freaking potholes.

Our rental car probably needed all new suspension after a week of those roads, and my chiropractor is rolling in the dough (literally and figuratively).

The Tourists

So, yeah, we were tourists, but we weren’t those tourists. We weren’t touristy tourists. We weren’t literally-push-like-we’re-in-Kindergarten-tourists.

Actually, I encountered pushy, rude tourists the most in really crowded touristy places like Edinburgh Castle and the like.

I don’t recall any one tourist from the Isle of Skye, but that is probably because we encountered 8,565,723 of them. To be fucking precise.

I get it, people want to see beautiful places. We all want to see The Old Man of Storr, the Fairy Pools, the Quiraing. Realizing that doesn’t make it any less annoying that you and literally everyone’s brother are trampling along to see a famous rock structure and not one bit of it feels like it should.

When you look at pictures of Skye, it looks so unspoiled, unpopulated, “unruined”. Unless you’re visiting during the off season, those remote-looking images are straight up false advertisement. It’s hard to take in and truly appreciate the raw natural beauty of the Quiraing when you’re fighting with hordes of tourists with their selfie sticks.

There were quite a few times we drove by beautiful waterfalls or odd-shaped alien formations and didn’t stop because the area would be literally crawling with people.

My favorite waterfall was this one…

…because strangely, we were alone on the road, and there was not a single person for as far as the eye could see. We barely caught a glimpse of the waterfall as we passed, so we stopped so I could run back to take a picture. As I was heading back towards the waterfall, the only sound I could hear was the sound of rushing water and just the wildness that Skye is when it isn’t overrun by people. It was my favorite moment, hands down.

Alone on the road with this made me feel so completely in Scotland.

The Ugly

The Lack of Amenities

The bladder is a sympathetic organ. It feels bad for you when there are no bathrooms anywhere to be found. So, to show how sorry it is, it makes you need to go to the bathroom far more often than is even humanly possible. The bladder is also a stupid asshole.

You know who else is a stupid asshole? The Isle of Skye.

Ya’ll, there are literally no public toilets on the entirety of the whole damn island. Maybe that’s an exaggeration as we didn’t explore every square inch, but where we did go, we didn’t see one. Not a one.

What is the result when a council/area/agency fails to provide public restrooms at popular tourist sites?

Well, let me fucking tell you.

TOILET PAPER EVERYWHERE. EVERYWHERE.

You have no idea the amount of stress I had knowing the bathrooms would be few and far between. And, that wherever I’d find to “wee” behind a bush, there’d already be toilet paper and I DON’T EVEN WANT TO THINK WHAT ELSE.

It was gross. Inexcusable. And, exactly what happens when a place is perfectly happy taking tourists’ money but can’t be bothered to provide sanitary ways to relieve oneself.

I’m just glad that one of my fears- having an attack of the travel trickle in the middle of nowhere- was never realized, because I really didn’t want that to be the highlight of my time on Skye.

The Locals Who Are Jerks

When we arrived in Portree on our first night, it was a really busy Saturday evening. The tiny Co-Op grocery store was a happening place, as everyone was trying to get their provisions for the evening. There is next to no parking in Portree, but we somehow lucked out with a spot directly in front of the store. In case we needed to move the car for some reason, my aunt and uncle stayed in the car and my mom and I went into the store.

As we were looking for a handful of basic groceries, my aunt was approached by a woman who ever so nicely (that’s sarcasm) told her she couldn’t park in the spot we were in all night. My aunt said something like, “We weren’t planning on staying in the grocery store all night, but thanks…”

This woman then proceeded to tell her how annoying tourists are and how she can’t stand them.

She said this to a person who is obviously not a Skye local, but a fucking tourist.

Our first introduction to the Isle of Skye was a woman who told us how much she hated us.

Awesome.

There were a few people who were kind and accommodating, but for the most part, the people we encountered on the Isle of Skye weren’t especially nice.

Even worse, we were told that the general consensus is that tourists suck and that fixing the roads or the lack of amenities is totally not worth it, but the money they get from the hated tourists? They’re cool with that.

Look, I get it. Tourists can suck. Especially the ones who push you out of the way so they can take 18 different selfies in front of whatever isn’t quite as cool as they are. If you live in a touristy town, hordes of tourists invading your area can get old pretty fast, but being rude isn’t going to make them go away.

What took away some of the sting of being treated like an invasive species was getting to meet one of my favorite bloggers, Lorna, from Gin & Lemonade.

Her and her hubby and darling daughter were so accommodating, kind, and an immense treat to spend time with. Because of them, I’ll always love Skye and when I think of my time there, I’ll feel a connection that can’t just be made by merely seeing and visiting, but by experiencing and truly getting to know the good that exists there.

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MASSIVE love to these people.

If you’re reading this and you’re a Skye local and you take offense, take it up with the lady who stands outside the Bank Street Co-Op-the one who warmly welcomes your guests.

5 Reasons Why I’m Failing at Adulting


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1.When my students do or say something turdly, really, just once, want to say, “I know you are, but what am I?” I know… but it would be so awesome to give them a little dose of the ridiculous excuses/responses/attitudes they give me every.single.day.


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2. Every year when I renew my car registration, I don’t put the new sticker on my license plate until I get pulled over. It’s like tradition. It is just so hard and takes too much effort to wipe the dust and grime off of my license plate and place the new sticker over the 10 that are already there, about to fall off. Pure unadulterated laziness.


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3. Every month, since I was 11 (why, God?) Aunt Flo has visited. One would think that after three decades of this ridiculousness, I would know to be prepared. Yet, every month, I ruin a pair of panties and I have to waddle into the store, with an entire roll of toilet paper wrapped around the crotch of my underwear.


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4. I love to wait until the bitter end before a credit card payment is due. That way, the extra money I was planning on using to pay down some of the debt can be used to buy new shoes or way too many Salted Caramel Mocha Frappuccinos far before I have to make the payment. Winning.


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5. I buy bananas for one sole purpose: I like to watch things slowly wither and die. For what other purpose do bananas serve? I sure as hell never eat them.


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So It Begins 

Because I am starting this new and improved Fatty McCupcakes Lifestyle, I’ve decided to be unrelentingly annoying about it. Why? Because eating healthier, food prepping, planning, and actively deciding to not eat all the cupcakes is hard. It sucks. So, I’m here to bring it to you real-like. No  sugar-coating, no building myself up to be this super human who can do it all, because I can’t and I won’t.

Continue reading “So It Begins “

Fatty Fo’ Life 

Fatty McCupcakes here (well, no shit. Who’d I think you would think it would be? Freaking Richard Simmons? Come to think of it, a guest spot by Richard Simmons would be absolutely fanastic.

  

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Well, that was weird. 

I guess I’ll get to the point. For the past couple months I’ve been hiding behind the guise of Fatty McCupcakes. I’ve literally been living my tag line-I’ve been busily eating my way through all the baked foods I can find. It’s been delicious, but too much of a good thing gives you cankles. 

I can’t do this to my body anymore. 

Gone are the days when I could eat half a large pizza, a whole coop full of chicken wings, and steak-cut fries, dripping in ranch , and bounce back after eating a salad for lunch, for a week. 

No. 

Now, if I overindulge, I feel like a freight train hit me the morning after, and if I could, I’d attach myself to a Pepto IV. And, a continuous stream of calming pink bismuth would only make me feel half human. 

I’ve been worried, lately, that if I stopped living the fatty life, Fatty McCupcakes would be gone. There’s no use for that kind of alter ego when your life revolves around kale salad and yoga. How can I be Fatty McCupcakes AND not slowly kill myself one delicious bite of cupcake after another? 

In all seriousness, if I don’t emerge from winter break with diabetes, I’ll be damn impressed. 

I have problems with food, guys, if you didn’t already guess that. Gee, what gave me away? 

I don’t see why I can’t be Fatty McCupcakes AND get healthy, because the real meaning behind Fatty is that I aim to decriminalize the word ‘fat’. Yes, you’re practically a criminal when you’re fat. It’s also a “bad word”. Worse than ‘fuck’. 

This fatty be like, “Fuck that.” 

No matter how thin, fat, attractive, ugly, or willing to be flexible to the changing whims of society you are, you will never be enough something to someone, somewhere. 

And, why is it anyone’s aim to be enough for anyone other than themselves? 

I am loving the blog, When I Thought I was Fat, because there’s so much truth contained there. How many times have you looked, fondly, back on a time when you thought you were fat, but you would, maybe, give up bacon to go back to that body? Because you weren’t fat?! 

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So, what is fat? Who defines whether or not you’re fat? Who says the way you are isn’t good enough? No one should have that kind of control over your perception of self, but you. 

Back “when I thought I was fat”, I went out, in a rather…creative outfit, to attend a superhero beer crawl. This was probably 40 pounds ago. I felt sexy, powerful, ready to take on the villains in my leather, fish nets, and cape (don’t ask). I felt great until some drunk creep, who was probably just growing pubes, called me, “Super Thighs”. Secretly I was just relieved he didn’t call me, “Super Double Chin” or “Mighty Double Belly”. Still, after that comment, I didn’t feel much like taking on the world that night.

  
Why did I let someone like that have control over my emotions and perception of myself? Why, after more than 4 years, I remember that comment? 

Who cares if I have large thighs? “More strength to crush your head like a pimple, you assknuckle!” is what I should have said to him (thanks, Stephanie).

There’s also this: 

  

Can We Stop Talking About the Thigh Gap Already?
I’m going to continue being Fatty McCupcakes, because there’s nothing wrong with being who I am, in all my voluptuous glory, while I work to better myself. Let’s make the word ‘Fatty’ a positive word like, ‘yum’, ‘love’, or ‘cheese’. I mean, it only makes sense. 

Here’s to a healthy 2016, filled with fitness, lettuce, and the ocassional cupcake (there’s no way in food hell I’ll completely deprive myself)! 

Fatty Fo’ Life