I’m not very good at this make up stuff. I mean, I thought I looked bomb the other week but when I took a photo it looked like I’d spent 0.3 seconds putting my face on. I don’t know how these girls on Instagram create a bloody work of art on themselves every day and make it look so damn easy too. I’ve pretty much accepted defeat… I’m over the make up trend. I’m far too low maintenance to even suit it and I’m definitely not glamorous. So I kinda figured that if I can’t have the dramatic glamour that comes along with a perfect cat eye and blinding highlight, I should strive for the french girl, natural, model-off-duty kind of beauty, which suits my lazy lifestyle down to a tee. I’ve stopped wearing makeup 90% of the time BUT only ONE problem – I look like shit. Kinda like I’m sick, or maybe a junkie, but also kinda like I’m tired of everybody’s shit and ready to choke someone at any moment. Alors, I have started to obsess over skincare! This lazy bitch has got herself a bona-fide skincare routine, morning AND night. I mean, it’s pretty minimal… but it’s a start! And since I have no work to do in my excuse for a job, I’m constantly researching and making wishlists of what I can buy next – on a quest for the miracle product that will finally rid me of my insanely dark circles (that give me the ‘may have murdered before’ look) or plump my lips ‘naturally’. Next on my list is a derma roller, with which I will puncture my skin repeatedly with tiny needles 😀 Fun, eh? I guess not exactly what I’d call natural…

Even still, I can’t keep up with everything I’m meant to be doing… body brushing, derma rolling, taking a million supplements, oils, serums, masks, Egyptian cotton sheets, don’t look down at my phone too much (gives you a double chin), don’t squint, regular facials, Korean products, SPF – always, sunglasses – always, ‘miracle’ products vs all natural??? Diet, water, face massages………..

I guess if you’re a model this level of maintenance is just part of your job. But, this face def ain’t no money maker sooooo… just remembering to cleanse, tone and moisturise (like fuck) is enough for me right now.

Another thing that I am literally LOSING SLEEP over is my body. I still work out a lot but I’ve changed the way I train and it shows. I’m not as toned or as muscly as I used to be. I’m staying up at night thinking ‘I must start doing these exercises, and I have to buy some weights, and I can’t eat any more of this, and I have to start drinking more of that’. I KNOW it’s stupid and yet I still genuinely think I’d be a happier person if I had thighs strong enough to crush a man and a 6pack. I’d say I’m pathetic but I know I’m not the only one…

I can’t remember when I started to obsess over my looks this way… When did I become so aware of myself? Thinking back to childhood, I remember playing at the park with some girl friends when one of them showed me how to tie my top into a bra/crop top thing, when some older boys appeared to play football. We were children. Wtf. I remember that same girl teaching me both how to and that I should roll my skirt up, in the toilets before school started. I wonder where she learned that… I think that was when I started to worry about my thighs. I think I probably only ever saw them with relaxed muscle all splayed out below me on my little school chair. I didn’t look at myself in mirrors at that age (who does?) so this was likely the only perspective I had. And even then, I was only looking at them because I was under the impression that boys were looking too! Looking back I realise they were more likely to have been playing with their Pokemon cards than comparing 9 year olds’ legs. Still, I was only in primary school and I was worried I wasn’t ‘sexy’ enough :/ So not cool.

And this was the beginning of a looooong conflict between my legs and I. I kept those chubby bastards completely hidden from the world FOR YEARS. I never wore a dress. I never wore shorts. I never wore a swimming costume. I wore tights every single day with my school uniform, no matter how hot it was on that damn sweaty school bus in the Summer. You wanna wobble and spread out to the size of a continent EVERY time I sit down? Fine, YOU’LL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY AGAIN! This continued right up until I left school. Always worried that my legs were too fat, untoned, too pale… just not ‘right’. And certainly not sexy. It wasn’t very nice to feel that way all the time. I also began to worry about my small boobs and I hated my smile. Actually, I’m still not a fan of showing my teeth. BUT, I don’t shy away from photographs the way I used to. I love a good selfie, I like getting my legs out and I now embrace my B-cups and the fact that they allow me to freeboob* like, all the time.

However, this may be only a small victory over body image, as these days I’m worried about the following:

Abs, Belly rolls, thigh gap, chubby knees, cankles, teeth, eyebrows, bad posture, thick waist, no shape, thin lips, small bum, unsymmetrical face, love handles, wrinkles, anything that wobbles, arms/legs being too skinny, hamstrings, bingo wings…

It’s insane. How the hell do I find the time and/or energy to think about all this shit? How did I get so VAIN!? It’s exhausting! And it’s doubtful that I’ll ever be 100% happy with how I look, or even close to it, but surely I can’t go through my whole life this way? It’s gotta stop someday, right? Or maybe I gotta wait til I’m an OAP before I stop caring about being ‘sexy’ enough.

I know this post is all ME ME ME but I don’t mean it to be that way… I mean it to be about all of us, because I know most girls have gone through/are going through the exact same thing. And plenty of guys too, I’m sure. So many of us are all in competition with each other. Spending FAR too much of our time envying other peoples’ bodies. Spending FAR too much money on the gym, protein bars, fat burners, fitness classes. Spending too much energy on getting the perfect lighting for a selfie that simultaneously makes us feel sexy and empowered and vulnerable and stressed out… Even when I try my hardest to embrace and promote the body positivity movement and self love, for me, those things are STILL about feeling sexy. The end goal for me in accepting my body as it is and learning to love it, is not ‘inner peace’ – it’s finally feeling sexy! Sex is at the heart of 90% of the things I think and the things I want. I know it and I can’t even fight it, it’s so deeply ingrained. Maybe that part doesn’t apply to the majority… or maybe it does, and we’re all just too brainwashed to step back and see it? IDK, I’m rambling now.. I don’t really know what this post is about anymore, I think I’m just saying stuff.

CLOSING THOUGHTS: Are we ever gonna stop considering ‘sexy’ as one of the most valuable things a person can be? Will we ever stop exposing kids to this damaging shit? Will we ever stop saturating the media with sex?

And, more importantly, will I ever get abs?!!

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*Fuck underwiring.

Stiff Upper Lip


So it’s been quite a while since I posted. I’m making a conscious effort to be a bit more positive and chilled out, and considering my blog posts are usually inspired by anger/frustration/misery/insert-negative-emotion-here, I thought it better not to vent publicly. Truth is, I’m still very bitter & wounded from my heartbreak (I was a moody bitch before so just imagine how cynical I am now!) but I don’t want people to see me that way. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not running around grinning and exuding rainbows and shitting candyfloss… I mean even if I wanted to I’d never be able to shift this bitch-face or dry sense of humour, but I just want the world to think that I’ve picked myself up and carried on. Because I kind of have… I’m not giving in to the tears or temper tantrums. When I feel it all building up, instead of completely losing my shit I’ll send a friend some rant-y texts, apologise for said rant and get an early night. I’ll try to keep myself busy the next day until the rage subsides (yes those are delirium lyrics *In this white wave, I am sinking, in this siiiiiilence* Good tune).

You guys already know how paradoxical I am. So although I totally back the whole self love ‘movement’ (is it a movement? What defines a movement? The amount of people hashtagging it?), I struggle with it on a personal level. In the same way that I’m battling my own internalized sexism in my feminist awakening, I’m tackling the self-deprecation that’s really instilled in the British & Irish. We are definitely not taught to love ourselves. It causes problems on a national scale, including a mental health crisis (because we cannot talk about our emotions no no… stiff upper lip and all that!) but also something that I’m sure deeply affects every one of us… Not having any idea how to fucking sell ourselves in a job interview.

Interviewer: And what would you consider your strengths to be?
Me: Well, I’m kind of good at this and I once did that kind of well…
Interviewer: And your weaknesses?
Me: Oh god, where do I start? I’m always late, apathetic toward my work, lazy, hate responsibility, moody, short attention span…
Interviewer: Please stop
Me: I yawn a lot, I need to eat at least every 2 hours, constantly on my phone…
Interviwer: Please
Me: I’m sarcastic, can’t do simple maths, have jealousy issues, oh and I pull sickies at least 4 times a year.
Interviewer: We’ll be in touch

We are definitely not taught to love ourselves, look after ourselves or take time for ourselves. No, because that is self-indulgent and JESUS DOESN’T LIKE IT. Hell, if I had a quid for every time I’ve been called selfish… And being even slightly selfish, vain or egotistical is like one of the worst things a person can be. Better to be unhappy, unhealthy and unfulfilled than be accused of being self-centered. But fuck it. I am selfish. I love working on myself, what a fucking sin, right?

And this is exactly what I mean! When faced with (or apparently even just thinking about) the kind of people who think that looking after yourself is a bad thing, or somebody who isn’t selfish enough and is miserable because of it, it’s easy for me to get on my soapbox and preach the glory of self love! Yet, I have so many days and nights where I feel absolutely worthless because of what other people (one person) thinks (or doesn’t think) of me. Like half my brain is totally tuned in and yes we love ourself and fuck everyone else ’cause we’re totally killing it!!! And the other half is asleep/stoned/paralyzed and just kind of flopping about in there like ‘what now? What are we doing? I’m just gonna go lie in this dark corner OK? You got any ice cream?’. It’s probably the side that’s supposed to do maths. Fuck maths.

But, hey, I’m trying. Like I’ve said in an early blog post, I hold out hope for my thirties, on the sage advice of my lovely mum. Maybe if I try to start loving myself now I’ll have it figured out in 5-10 years! I’ll get a few comfortable years in before I start lamenting my youth and having a mid life crisis…

You can really tell I’m trying to be more positive, right?

No for real though, I do think it’s working. And I do think it’s really important for everybody, in terms of your relationship with yourself and with other people. If you are totally drained you can’t give other people what they need – love, empathy, a shoulder to cry on, whatever it may be. When we don’t look after ourselves we become exhausted and uncaring, and usually feel guilty about it to boot! I want it to be socially acceptable and even encouraged for people to take a step back from their life, their drama, partner, friends, family, job, all of it, to take a breath and step back into the ring with a second wind – without carrying a tonne of guilt with them!

So. I’m trying not to be so hard on myself, trying not to be so negative & doing things that make me happy! And since my relationship has very much taken a backseat in my day-to-day life, I can say with certainty that everything I do now is for me. And that’s how I want it. That’s maybe not how it has to be for everybody, but considering the way in which I lost myself in my relationship and subsequent heartbreak, it’s what’s right for me, right now. I’m eating right (trying to), I’m working out, I’m trying new things, booking trips with friends, I’m starting a new job & eventually I want my own place. Even if things work out with him, I think it’s important for me to have my own place, at least for a while. As scary as it is to be out on my own, I want to be that girl, who can be on her own. So I’m faking it til I make it… I’m suppressing all the stress I get over things I can’t control and I’m suffocating the bastard ’til it gets the fucking point.

Bad days – I am tougher than you. Lonely nights – You’re getting the cold shoulder. Self-loathing – I will punch you in the goddamn throat.

Who knows, maybe I’ll be preaching love and peace by the time I’m thirty. Namaste, bitches.

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Wasted Youth


I had lunch with a friend the other day and while complaining about our love lives we started to wonder whether we were losing our best years this way… I mean, I feel like I’ve always had a boyfriend. I’ve been trying to fulfil the duties of a girlfriend since I was 15 years old.

I have this image of the independent single girl with her own place and her career and all her friends and I totally support this idea and I feel bad sometimes that I’m not her and have never been her. I’m always involved with somebody and have been carrying the guilt and the fear of that around for the past 10 years…

Fear; Because I’m constantly scared that I’m doing something wrong. I didn’t used to be… but over the years I’ve been shouted at so much (don’t get me wrong, I’ve done more than my fair share of shouting too) that I second guess everything I do or say at 25 years old. Example: A friend of mine tagged me in a photo on Instagram, alluding to a wild night out I had years ago, right before him and I were ‘official’. My immediate reaction was to smile, giggle, agree with her that we need a similar night out again. But that night is a very sensitive subject for him. So almost immediately I’m worrying: Can he see this post? Can he see my response? Am I going to get in trouble for this?

I actually looked through every one of her two hundred-odd followers to see if he was one of them before I commented with the giggly monkey emoji. And I’m still worried that he’ll see it and have an almighty fall out with me.

I’ve spoken before about my contradictory nature and this contradiction is one I particularly hate. I’m always a girlfriend who’s censoring and limiting herself for the sake of her boyfriend. I’m not trying to sound like a victim because I can be a nightmare girlfriend. I mean… yeah. It’s bad, when I haven’t got a handle on it. I’m only a victim of my own choices. And I strongly believe that a woman should be able to be herself, to do what she wants, to say what she wants, to be unapologetic about her past and that her partner should accept her entire being; the uncensored version that her partner fell for in the first place. Yet in every one of my three relationships (which isn’t many, but they’ve managed to span the past 10 years of my life so I feel like a pretty seasoned monogammer. Yeah, just made a word.) I have changed and subdued myself. I’ve lost all my male friends and at this point lost any ability to talk to a male of similar age naturally, because I’m too worried that I’m ‘giving him the wrong impression’ or simply that he finds me attractive (because I get in trouble for that, too). I don’t speak as candidly as I would like. I don’t go out very much, I hardly ever get drunk anymore lest the real me reveal herself (although to be fair, she’s a total train wreck sometimes). I’m downright anti-social.

At this point, I feel like being in a relationship allows me to only be half of myself. How different would I have been had I been single for at least some years of the past decade? But that question is double-edged. Yeah, I might have been more conscientious, more driven, more focused, more creative, more fun… But I may also have been a hot mess. I feel as though I need a boyfriend to keep me in check, but I’ve never really found out for myself. I imagine if I were single right now I’d be spending my weekends dancing on drugs until I sweat my makeup off and start moving like a zombie before sleeping it off in a cold, dark room… And then I think, is that how I should be spending my last youthful years? Am I missing out on partying until zombification?!

I feel as if I really know myself now. I know that I’m full of contradictions but I can recognise them and I’m at peace with probably 90% of my flaws. But the ‘me’ I know is girlfriend me. I’m not sure that I know single me (when she’s not completely and truly heartbroken, that is). Would I be a liability? A total boss babe? Or a lonely cat lady who spends Saturday nights in beds with cups of tea and sudoku? (Actually, that’s me currently.)

So I’ve been wondering if getting back with him was me relinquinishing my last chance to find out what kind of life single blonde would carve for herself. At the time I felt as though I didn’t have a choice… I loved him, so how could there be a choice? Surely I had to give it a go? And I think I love that idea because there is an ironic kind of freedom in it. I was free from taking responsibility, which is probably my biggest fucking fear ever ever ever. It was the easy way out… and yet it’s not been easy. It’s been a lot of sad, lonely nights peppered with attacks of anxiety. Where is he? Who’s he with? Is he thinking of me? Why doesn’t he want to see me? Of course, it’s not all bad; there’s also been lots of laughs and fun.

So, to be single would mean losing so many things that I love and so many that I hate. I risk losing the person the past 10 years have shaped me into; shedding my skin and starting all over again. Which is a fucking terrifying concept, but there’s something very alluring about the image of that single, independent woman. It should be the case that I can be that woman, who is unapologetically herself, independent, with her own career, her own place, her own life… full autonomy, while being in a relationship – that’s the dream, tbh. That’s 100% a vision worth working towards.

Still feel like I’m missing out on going to raves and getting fucked up, though. If I ever get hitched I’m gonna need a week-long hen do of pure debauchery. You’re all invited!

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Why do I love the things that are bad for me?

  1. Chocolate cake.
  2. Men with emotional issues that they won’t face up to.
  3. Cheap champagne.
  4. Dipping all my food into peanut butter.
  5. Instagram.

Now, I love Instagram so much that I’m reluctant to admit it may be damaging me, which may be a recurring theme in my relationships… Like a toxic lover it captivates me; it feeds me; I crave it; I adore it; I love it. Yet sometimes it leaves me leaving worthless, sad, fat and ugly… (and poor! Mostly just poor tbh).

Perhaps it isn’t the lover who does this to me, but my own raging jealousy that I attempt to fight off every day with an arsenal of self-love slogans and memories of those couple of times I did something kinda great or looked pretty bangin’. Either way – Instagram is BAD NEWS. For me and my bank account. Here are some of the inane things I have decided I need to make my life a success thanks to the pathetic-aesthetic universe of IG:

  • WHITE hair. Not light blonde, not grey… it’s gotta be white. I almost lost my mind last week and bleached it myself with a £10 set from Boots. Now, considering I can’t even put my hair in a messy fucking bun, just imagine the damage I could have done. *shudder*
  • A tan. To really set off the hair, make me look more toned AND make my tattoos look cuter. Black on white, pasty skin can look a little harsh… black on a golden-toned, glowing body = sexy af.
  • Abs and crop tops. Crop tops have been around for a while now and sadly (so very sadly) do not seem to be disappearing any time soon. Time to loose a few lbs and show a little skin! (IRL though I’m fully aware that this will never happen).
  • A white house. With ALL the windows, a perfect kitchen and perfect light for ALL the photos, any time of day.
  • Perfect dishes to go in the perfect kitchen where I will take snaps of my perfectly prepared meals and smoothie bowls! (Again, not a chance – except for maybe a perfectly prepared bowl of super noodles).
  • Bralets, bralets, bralets. In every kind of lace, in every kind of style, in black, white and grey… Bras are out. £70 bralets are in, in, in!
  • Selfies in which I have perfectly highlighted skin and somehow manage to not look at all vain. (How do they do it?!)
  • Unbelievably and unnecessarily stylish gym clothes. I don’t know where they come from and I don’t know how people can afford them, but they exist. And I now need them in order to have a successful workout.
  • Flexibility. If I can’t do complicated yoga poses on a beach, in my new gym gear, on an eco-friendly yoga mat, while somebody takes photos of me, then am I even living? (Who takes the photos of these girls every day? WHO?!)
  • Chic city breaks with my best gal friends where we stay in the fanciest hotels and snap pics of each other lounging about in dressing gowns eating macarons or just gazing out romantically from the balcony, as you do.
  • Sam Edelman over the knee boots. Because the rest of the world can seemingly afford them.
  • Extremely hard to come by skin care in minimalist, super-stylish packaging.
  • A shit-load of £45 candles. Equally hard to come by, equally minimalist.
  • A very good camera!! To take flat lays of the candles, cosmetics, bralets and piles of jewellery I’ve somehow accumulated despite spending all my money on the above.
  • A bubble butt. Proportionate bodies are OUT.
  • Massive lips painted with PRO make-up skills, in the most unnatural colours, preferably from NYX cosmetics.
  • Bunches of white roses, or other fresh flowers, every day. Must be white, to match the house.
  • An addiction to coffee. (I’m not a fan tbh, it just makes me need to poo).
  • A pet in colours that match my house and accessories.
  • Sunglasses and a top knot. Every outfit is 10 times cooler with sunglasses and a top knot.
  • A high flying career that somehow leaves me time to workout every day, prepare perfect, clean meals, go out for cocktails, go jet-setting with friends, chill at home with candles and coffee AND take photos of everything to post on insta.


Just how do they do it -___-

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2015 can suck my dick


A tad different from the obligatory white-girl, what-I’ve-learned-from-2015-post… 

2015, you royally fucked me. Maybe I’ll thank you for it one day, but today is not that day. I am not grateful blonde… I am fucking angry.

You have been a learning curve, but you’ve taught me to be more bitter, less trusting, less sentimental… You wore me down, humiliated me often and probably aged me about 10years. But your 12 months are up – your reign of terror is over. I’m leaving your shit storm behind in miserable December and I’m gonna make January my bitch.

I’m gonna hold back my tears, hold on to my anger and punch your ghosts right in the face – do not try and haunt me. 2016 is looking to be a lonely year but I will be a spider, safe in my web, recovering in the dark and striking at each opportunity. 

You took a lot away from me, 2015, but the fresh air blowing in from the new year is already giving me clarity. One positive you’re leaving me with, however, is gratitude and appreciation for the right people and the right things. In the most cruel way you’ve brought the people  in my life together… And with the death of you comes the dissipation of my fear, abatement of my mourning and the chance to enjoy this bittersweet gift. 

I’ll thank you one day… But right now, you can suck my dick.

Yours sincerely,

The spider.

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Image via Instagram @visualpursuit



I am the least competitive person ever.

If we’re playing a game, I’m a total bore. Can I just keep score? I’d rather not be involved at all. I don’t get angry at monopoly, I’ll play dead before I play fight… I don’t do competitive.

In school, I was always a straight B student. I could‘ve got straight As if I’d bothered to apply myself… but why would I put in effort when I could just cruise through with Bs? My parents were satisfied, my teachers were satisfied, my school reports constantly said ‘could try harder’ but, you know what? I’m just far too fucking lazy. I wasn’t competing with anybody (even myself) to get a better grade. B was fine, B will do. Now I regret leaving school with 3 Bs in my A-Levels… I could’ve had at least 1 A if I’d just tried.

In uni I was much the same (although averaging more of a C grade than a B, if I’m honest). One time though, I had to write a critical commentary on a passage from a book that actually interested me (which was rare). I was always falling asleep in that class (the professor had the most monotone voice, I’m yawning just thinking about it) so I don’t think my Prof. liked me too much. I don’t really remember why but for some reason I worked pretty hard at that essay, as if to try and prove something to my professor? Honestly I’m not sure if I felt that at the time or I just decided that afterwards! It helped that I naturally had a good understanding of the passage, so I could already write a good essay.. then, with a bit of work, I wrote a great essay (srsly, I kicked that assignment’s ass). I got a really high mark, my Professor said it was the best critical commentary he’s ever read AND I beat the know-it-all, most competitive, suffering from small-man-syndrome, ralph-lauren-and-chino-wearing dickhead who always bragged about his good grades. He couldn’t hide his annoyance (and downright confusion at how could get a higher grade than him)… (which tbh baffled me too!). Anyway, it was probably the only time I actually applied myself and did really great at something. Sadly this was WAY too late in my student life to learn this lesson and carry on to get a 1st in my degree (I settled for a 2:1… B student 4 lyf).

Anyway I graduated and spent the summer drinking and falling madly in love, giving no thought to my career or .. well, life in general. And now I find myself ruing all the apathy. I’m lazy and I had cruised through school and uni with minimal effort, I guess I thought real life would go the same way.


I’m envious of my friends who have their shit together.. have a house, have a career. Friends who really excel at something. I’ve never been really good at anything… I have no real achievements to speak of. All the things I’m proud of seem pretty sub-standard. If I had a competitive bone in my body this might not have been the case. I have the ability to be good at something (maybe even a few things!), but never take it far enough. At this point, I’m actually terrified of competition. I’m really afraid to apply myself… to push myself harder at a sport I want to improve in, to make a bona fide effort to land a job I might actually like. What if I fail hideously (like I did in the relationship I was oh-so-sure about). And I’m embarrassed at my fear of competitiveness. Now for most things, I genuinely don’t give a shit… Sure, it’s great to win or to do well in something you care about, but when it comes to family board games? I’m not gonna get excited over it… I just don’t care. But that seems to bring the mood down for everybody else? I’m boring because I’m not desperate to win or because I don’t scream at the TV during sports (all I even watch is UFC and Moto GP, on occasion). What I need is to get a bit of (healthy) aggression around me. To turn my anger at things (and at myself) into a bit of competitiveness. If not, I’ll keep letting everybody else pass me, and some times I do actually want to win. Or at least put up a fight.

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Sweet dreams aren’t made of this


Little girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. Except for my subconscious which is filled only with the horrible, hideous and everything terrifying. No beaux rêves for me. 

I had my own little ‘inception’ experience last night (where is DiCaprio when you need him ffs?). I first dreamt, or rather, ‘nightmared’ – yes, I made it a verb – that I was in the woods with an anonymous man, who seemed to be my boyfriend. We were setting up camp when I came across a bloody, severed, mangled head; there was blood everywhere and I was suddenly aware that there was a deranged killer in the woods hunting us (you know how in dreams you just know things without any explanation?). For some reason I was freaking out about getting some blood on me as if it carried a disease or something and mystery man was lying there sick (possibly dying?) and utterly useless. But I wasn’t at all worried about him, whoever he was! I was just aware that he was somebody who should have been able to help or protect me, but could not. Anyway the car was broken so I ran off into the long grass and next thing I’m in my back garden (only it wasn’t my back garden?!) with my dad and my broken car. My dad was acting really weird and again, I was just aware that he couldn’t help me. This time I ran to the front of the house where my car was parked across the middle of the road (which I actually thought was strange – whereas so far the rest of the dream apparently hadn’t struck me as anything out of the ordinary (?!)). I remember feeling incredibly scared and alone. There were people around but it was as if they weren’t real and they couldn’t save me from whoever was ‘after’ me. I clambered into my car and struggled to get it started, that’s where the dream ended.

Now, I guess that’s a pretty typical nightmare and probably all that it signifies is that I know, deep down inside, however much I don’t want it to be true, that my poor wee car is probably going to shit itself soon. But then, I dreamt that I woke up and was telling somebody about how scary the nightmare was! That bit fucked with my head a bit when I really did wake up! You’re probably wondering where I’m going with this but the next dream is even odder.

This time I’m in some sort of waiting room, I think it’s a hospital. I don’t know if I’m waiting to be seen to or to see someone but I don’t question it – I’m just waiting. My mum is beside me and Will Smith is beside her. Which was no big deal. I was playing it cool and hoping that for some reason he falls in love with me (I have no explanation for this. I think I might have him rapping on the radio yesterday?). Anyway I look down at my feet and my shoes are filled with snakes and worms. They’re all tangled together, writhing around all over my feet and starting to crawl up my legs! I’m trying to kick my shoes off without pissing off the snakes or squishing a worm… Then I think the dream changed simply to more waiting. You might not think that’s particularly interesting but as I dream a lot it’s always a red flag when there’s a new theme. 

I’ve never dreamt of worms before and have only begun to dream of snakes (creatures that I actually love in reality) since the breakup. Interesting. So here is what Dream Moods’ ‘dream dictionary’ had to say about my nightmares:

Worms: To see a worm in your dream represents weakness, degradation, filth and general negativity. You have a very low opinion of yourself or of someone in your life. The dream may also relate to self-esteem issues or a skewed self image. Alternatively, dreaming of a worm may be a metaphor for someone who is untrustworthy or slick.
To dream that the worm is crawling on your body indicates that you feel someone around you is taking advantage of you and feeding off your kind heartedness.

Snakes: To see a snake or be bitten by one in your dream signifies hidden fears and worries that are threatening you. Your dream may be alerting you to something in your waking life that you are not aware of. 
Hospital: To see or dream that you are in a hospital symbolizes your need to heal or improve your physical or mental health. You need to get back to the flow of everyday life. 

Waiting: To dream that you are waiting is indicative of issues of power/control and feelings of dependence/independence, especially in a relationship. Consider how you feel in the dream while you were waiting. If you are patient, then you know things will happen at their own pace. If you are impatient, then it means that you are being too demanding or that your expectations are too high.
Alternatively, the dream may denote your expectations and anxieties about some unknown situation or decision. You are experiencing a sense of anticipation or uneasiness.

Killer: To see a killer in your dream suggests that an essential aspect of your emotions have been cut off. You feel that you are losing your identity and your individuality. 
Father: To see your father in your dream symbolizes authority and protection. It suggests that you need to be more self-reliant. 

Alone: To dream that you are alone indicates feelings of rejection. You may be feeling that no one understand you.
Car: To dream that you are driving a car denotes your ambition, your drive and your ability to navigate fromone stage of your life to another. Consider how smooth or rough the car ride is. Overall, this dream symbol is an indication of your dependence and degree of control you have on your life.
To dream that your car won’t start indicates that you are feeling powerless in some situation.

Running: To dream that you are running away from someone indicates an issue that you are trying to avoid. You are not taking or accepting responsibility for your actions. In particular, if you are running from an attacker or any danger, then it suggests that you are not facing and confronting your fears.
Now, anybody who has been reading my blog can probably see how much these interpretations can relate to my current situation. Is my subconscious ringing alarm bells? 

What do you think? Interesting or a load of nonsense? Do you ever interpret your dreams? Do I just watch too many horror movies? My cat’s tail probably wrapped itself around my foot during the night which my lovely mind turned into slimy, scaly creatures for me. And why didn’t Will Smith try to help me?! So many questions. 

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P.S. There are of course other interpretations for my dream symbols, I just cut it down to what I felt could apply to me. If you have any other suggestions/experience with this stuff I’d love to hear it.

P.P.S. I’m aware that many people will be rolling their eyes at the idea of interpreting dreams. But fuck you. 

Me, myself and I

I decided to post some facts about me to try and let you see that there’s sometimes more to me than the whiney bitch who writes most of this blog… But I apologise if it comes across as incredibly narcissistic, as the title suggests! I actually really like reading these kinds of posts from the blogs I follow and would love if anybody reading would comment a few things/a thing about themselves. I’m always interested in the stuff that people don’t show us straight away! 

I should warn you though that I’m not that interesting… Also I’ve had 3 glasses of wine and a glass of port so don’t be expecting this to be well written (although drinking port makes me feel super sophisticated I don’t think it really makes me any more eloquent). 

Ok here’s some shit about the angry blonde that you don’t need to know:

  1. I have a degree in french
  2. I drive like a maniac
  3. I love horror movies, scary stories, anything spooky, kinda wish I was a witch…
  4. A few years ago I was thinking of joining the army and was training to be an officer.
  5. I love rave/trance/drum n bass
  6. But I also love classic rock like Aerosmith and fleetwood mac
  7. I turn into a big girly mess of oestrogen over cute animals
  8. However I really dislike babies and children and never want any of my own (not a maternal bone in this body. It scares my mum)
  9. I always had horses growing up and did a lot of riding. I miss it
  10. As cliché as it is, I’m in love with Paris. I’ve spent a lot of time there so it’s kind of like a second home now
  11. I’m a quintessential scorpio and believe that most people possess the traits attributed to their zodiac sign
  12. As a young teen I spent a lot of time in the UAE. Very interesting, to experience first hand an entirely different culture
  13. I’m addicted to puzzles – especially logic puzzles – especially japanese logic puzzles
  14. I spend far too much time sleeping. I nap all the time!
  15. Despite the fact that I always have very vivid dreams/nightmares which often affect my mood for the entire day
  16. I can’t cook to save my life
  17. But I LOVE food. I’m addicted to sushi, love fine dining and have a serious sweet tooth
  18. It’s just as well I work out a lot
  19. I started binge drinking when I was 14, my parents had no idea.
  20. I’ve experimented with drugs and wish that that wasn’t so socially unacceptable when it’s perfectly fine to get pissed out your head, act a dick and put yourself in risky situations.
  21. I’m always cold
  22. I have some small tattoos
  23. I’m an introvert, but I’m not shy
  24. Not a lot of things make me as happy as a sunny autumn day with a hot chocolate does
  25. I drink Guinness
  26. I eat a LOT
  27. I have 2 brothers and there aren’t any other girls in my family (well there’s a couple cousins in England but we don’t really know each other)
  28. I love watching MMA, follow UFC and practice boxing myself (have also just begun Muay Thai)
  29. I fucking hate it when people give their cars a name or when men constantly refer to any sort of vehicle as ‘she’ or ‘her’. Just, wtf?!
  30. Beach holidays don’t appeal to me in the slightest, I like city breaks and camping.
  31. I’ve been in a few fights and am a lot more careful what I say and who I say it to since I know how it feels to be punched in the face (by a guy, no less). Tip: if you don’t want to get hit back, you better make sure you hit hard enough the first time!
  32. I love movies and when I see a good one it will stick in my mind for weeks. I even love the arty, aestheticy ones where nothing really happens
  33. I used to be quite artistic but as an adult I never draw or create anything anymore. My Instagram usually satisfies any creative urges I have these days, which is quite sad really
  34. I’m absolutely useless with technology 
  35. I’m really into fashion but my bank account and social life dictates that I spend 80% of my time in jeans and a hoody
  36. I love hats. I don’t wear them often enough (it’s so windy here by the sea!)
  37. Yeah, I live by the sea but never really learned to swim and am pretty scared of the water
  38. I had my appendix out as a kid, I like the scar
  39. I’m a serial monogammer – I turn 25 in November and I’ve been in 3 long term relationships already. I think that’s weird.
  40. I love funfairs and candyfloss even though both make me feel sick

Ok that’s about enough narcissism for one night don’t you think? I’m away to bed ’cause I’m hungry and if I stay up any later I’m gonna have to raid the fridge. Forget fine dining – I’ll be eating my way through a pack of ham like a philistine.

Leave me a comment guys, tell me something weird. Spill some secrets 🙂 

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    UGH I’m trying SO hard to remain positive this week, but missing him is really getting on top of me. I can’t put him at the back of mind even for a second, he’s at the forefront 90% of the day – and the other 10% he’s like, in the second row. It’s driving me insane (dreamt I was a sniper last night, picking off the ‘baddies’ one by one from a seven-storey window; Most relaxing dream I’ve had in weeks).

    But I’m not giving up!! It’s only Tuesday for fucks sake, I can at least go half a week without a break down, right? So here is a rambling, rather superficial list of things I have to smile about:

    • Planning a trip to Budapest with my friend
    • The McGregor-Aldo fight, wherever I end up watching it
    • The fact that I have falafel for lunch – fuck yeah
    • Checking out a new gym this week with some friends
    • Potential trip to southern Spain to learn free diving, if I stop being such a scardey cat – not kidding, I react to water the same way a very fluffy, very angry cat does.
    • Legends – the new movie about the Kray twins. Tom Hardy x2?! Yes please!
    • Saturday night plans with friends, wine and a big, dirty take away
    • My granda’s getting an Alsatian that puppy I can play with
    • One of his ponies is also expecting a FOAL!!! Who can’t be happy around a new born foal stumbling around like bambi?!
    • Online shopping. As my unemployed brother is always home to let the delivery man in, guess who doesn’t have to fuck around with Tesco anymore? *smug grin*
    • An invitation to stay with my friend in London – although she has informed me that our usual drug and alcohol fueled binges will be on hold until she completes a 10k run in November. Ugh.
    • Friends who spontaneously send me messages like this to get me through the day: 
    • VERY exciting work opportunities
    • New shoes – I may not be able to walk in them but I CAN look like a damn queen in them.
    • My little black cat (my familiar!) who sleeps at the end of my bed every single night
    • A tidy room. Used my half day yesterday to clean up and finally I can see the floor again.
    • Spying an awesome bracelet on an American site and finding out that they offer free shipping to Northern Ireland! Like, what?! Some English sites don’t even offer shipping to auld norn iron!
    • Unexpected text from a friend inviting me out for coffee tonight

    Now that’s a good list! If I don’t cheer up I’m gonna need somebody to hook me up with some Prozac… Not kidding.

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    **Sidenote** I wonder how many more hits this blog post would get if I titled it ‘Baby animals & Tom Hardy’??

    Sweet emotion

      I’m far too sentimental. 

    I’ve previously referred to myself as a walking paradox; I’m either totally apathetic towards something or totally passionate about it. But I don’t always want to be so passionate about things. As we’ve previously established, I (stupidly) managed to completely lose myself in my relationship, but it’s even the little things that I struggle with…

    Since moving into my parents spare room I’ve had all my stuff packed in boxes and there is just SO much. And you know what? I could count on 1 hand the number of things I’ve actually needed out of those boxes over the last 3 months. So much of it is stuff that just means something to me, brings back a memory, even just a small, silly one. Do I really need all those memories? Let me give you an example…

    Somewhere in a box within a box, probably within another box (I have a thing for boxes) I know that I have 2 rocks (yes, you read correctly, rocks) from… I wanna say Sicily? Which a boy brought me back from his holiday when we were about 13. We sat beside each other in class (it was alphabetical order) and I can’t even bloody remember the significance of the rocks, but there was one, and it was really funny at the time, so I’ve kept these rocks for over a decade, from a guy I haven’t even spoken to for the majority of that decade. I realise I sound like a hoarder, but as long as it’s tidied away it doesn’t count, right? 

    I am still gutted about my laptop that gave up the ghost out of nowhere and took years of photos with it (bimbo here didn’t have the sense to back any of it up). So, of course, I still have the laptop – despite being told that there’s no way to access the photos, I keep it just in case of a technological miracle. I even went as far as to start a fight with the ‘tech whiz’ who gave me the bad news (and charged me £18 for it may I add) when I bumped into him after faaaar too much prosecco. Luckily he saw the funny side when I made fun of his eyelashes (they’re very long and beautiful) *hangs head in shame*. 

    But my problem extends past hoarding and fighting with pretty men. Remember when I said I had the time of my life on Saturday night? Now I’m even mourning the loss of it! I’m genuinely pining for that night, that feeling of being on top of the world. Instead of just being happy that I had such a fantastic time, my heart has to feel sad that time didn’t stand still. Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard? 

    I read all this self-help, self-love, finding peace crap (which is often super contradictory) and everyone says ‘you have to learn to let go. You have to let go of the past. Be thankful for it and move on.’ Like, yeah, ok, I’m smart enough to know that’s what I should do, I think most of us can figure that part out by ourselves. But it all fails to teach me how to let go. My head is on board, giving me two thumbs up, braced and ready to go. My heart on the other hand is the moody teenager spending a sunny day in a darkened room, impossible to get it excited about anything! 

    I used to hate my apathy. I was always waiting for the next thing to come along to fall in love with, to day dream about, to give me the goosebumps and euphoria I cherish so much. Lately, I’d love to be able to just turn down the dial on my emotions. 

    The grass is always greener eh? I just need a good slap!!!

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