Saturation

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?!!

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

*Fuck underwiring.

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!

 
Follow my blog with Bloglovin

Wicked Stepmother

Why do women think it’s OK to berate me for not wanting children?

I’ve never wanted children. As a child my mum would give me dolls to play with and I hated them. I always played with stuffed animals instead. I remember pushing teddy bears around in the pram she got me. I don’t like children. I didn’t even like them when I was one… And I don’t remember a whole lot from my childhood apart from all the stuffed animals, wondering why my parents wouldn’t buy me an Action Man and dressing up in my mums wedding dress then pretending that I’d ran away from my wedding to join the mafia. I don’t think I was very good at being a child and I have no interest whatsoever in raising one.

My mum always said I’d get over it. She said I’d change my mind when I met the right man… I never understood that. And although meeting my exboyfriend/boyfriend/whatever did change my mind about wanting to get married (although maybe I would have jilted him and entered a life of crime, we’ll never know) I never changed my opinion on kids. In fact, he has a kid already and if anything that just put me off more. Anyway, after seeing how terribly I still react to babies and children in my mid-twenties, when my friends are all getting broody (or up the duff), my mum’s given up hope. She’s accepted that motherhood just isn’t for me; although I suspect part of her still hopes I’ll have a miraculous turnaround.

Now, I’m not like the wicked step mother that my ex boyfriend/boyfriend/what-the-fuck-is-he sometimes like to make out. I’m hideously awkward with kids and will do what I can to avoid them, but I’m certainly not cruel or nasty (however, if you’re a stranger and your child bothers me and I’m not in a rare benevolent mood, I will tell them to go away and make horrible faces at them if they don’t leave me alone immediately). Kids just aren’t for me and that’s that. My friends can accept it, my friends with kids can accept it, my family can accept it… why does it bother people who’s life I am not a part of? Please tell me, angry strangers, why does it effect you? I may also point out that nobody gives a man any grief for having the same attitude toward kids.

Today in work my boss was complaining about not getting any sleep since baby #2 came along. I shook my head and stated that I’ll never understand why people choose to have children (not that baby #2 was a choice, I remember the look on his face the day he told us they were expecting. The look of a broken man regretting the old line ‘but I can’t feel anything when I’m wearing one!’). My colleague, who doesn’t have any children herself at the age of 50 apparently by choice, took issue with this. First she said “Well, if your mum and dad hadn’t decided to have you, you wouldn’t exist.”

…………Eh…yeah.

What’s your point?

Then she told me that there’s lots of reasons people decide to have children:

1. Because they love children
2. Having children enriches their lives
3. To carry on the human race

Wait, what? Couples actually decide to pop out a sprog just in case there aren’t enough humans around already? Hmm not so sure about that one. Yes, of course there’s a biological drive there to reproduce, but I really believe we’re past all of that. If we were simply giving in to our natural instincts then we’d be pregnant every time we’re horny ffs. And why haven’t I, and many other people, got that instinct? No, I believe these days we’re more programmed by society than biology. Anyway I accept that people do want children, and for the reasons above. Most people like kids. Most people want to raise a little clone of themselves. It brings people joy and enrichment along with sleepless nights and shitty nappies. I accept it, but I can’t understand it. I can’t empathise with my friend who chose to give up sunday morning lie ins, afternoon naps, money to spend on herself, holidays where all she’s responsible for is her bar tab, for 4am starts, cycles of sickness (when one gets sick, everybody gets sick), holidays more stressful than staying at home, working a full time job to pay 80% of her wages out to the child minder. I can’t understand it! But that’s what she wanted, that’s what works for her and I accept that. I don’t question her choices, she doesn’t question mine. So why the fuck did my colleague need to argue with me and tell me that I’ll change my mind? The same old “oh I knew somebody who was just like you! And now she has THREE kids!”.

Oh, really? Fuck me! That’s the first time anybody’s ever told me that. This changes everything! Obviously, there are no women in the world who do not have children through choice. How silly of me!

Fucking idiotic. Yes, of course I may change my mind. I might also change my mind about never going to work on a cruise ship, but I don’t hear you arguing with that?? Then the guy in our office says that he doesn’t like kids but he ‘supposes he’ll have them one day to carry on his seed and that’. She didn’t bat an eyelid at that. So, me? I’m stupid to acknowledge that I’m selfish, irresponsible and hate taking care of things therefore should not become a mother to please somebody else, cause I might change my mind (I’ll also require a total personality transplant to successfully raise anything to be mentally stable)! But a man can be totally apathetic towards fatherhood, choosing to reproduce only out of pride and ego, to carry on his ‘legend’ and that’s just totally fine. ‘Cause you know the way men and women have completely different brains and feelings and all that.

A grown woman recently told me that ‘you can’t know what love is until you have your own child’. I know a lady who can’t have children (and chose to tell people that her and her husband just never wanted any) and it breaks my heart to think that there are people out there spouting irresponsible shit like that to people vulnerable enough to believe it. To think that this lady, who really did want kids, has had to listen to the same rants as me and be told time and time again that ‘I knew a woman just like you’ and ‘you’ll change your mind!’, it’s shocking. And it only ever comes from other women. A man has never openly passed judgement on me for not wanting children.

So, ladies who think you’re better than me for having or wanting to have children, and my friend’s middle aged cousin in particular, who started a fight with me at a hen do for not wanting kids because one of her sister’s kids died (?!), get off your high horse and go eat a dick.

Images via Pinterest 

Follow my blog with Bloglovin