You say you want a revolution…

If you are even fractionally sentient you will be aware the Donald Trump visited the UK last week. He did so with all his usual grace & charm. Yup, that’s right, none. Instead he gave us his standard fare; lies, ill manners & fuckwittery.

I’m delighted to confirm that we weren’t standing for it. A reported 250,000 people took the streets of London to protest Trump’s arrival on our shores. In Glasgow the crowd was smaller, but no less passionate.

I’ll happily take every opportunity to denounce the U.S. President & his vile administration. For me it boils down to one really simple fact; if you don’t loudly condemn their actions, you’re condoning them.

I don’t consider it hyperbole to describe the current GOP as fascists. Trump’s government displays every single facist warning sign. Rampant racism leading to dehumanisation comes straight from the nazi playbook. Language such a infestation combined with policies like family separation & Muslim travel bans are undeniably examples of this. Extreme sexism is unavoidable when the commander in chief is a sexual predator. When you combine his misogyny with the increased power of the religious right you create a dangerous situation. Reproductive rights, access to health care & basic human rights for LGBTQ+ people are at serious risk. Assaults on the free press. An inability to conduct himself in reasonable & decent manner add to his horrors. When mocking disabled people is fair game, but denouncing white supremacy is not, you have a society in serious trouble.

It isn’t possible to recount all of Trump’s bad conduct in one blog post. He represents all that I find repulsive. His Presidency puts vulnerable people within & without America at severe risk. I think all decent people have a duty to resist. I’m proud of my city for making our revulsion clear.

I spent the first half of the protest sharing a bench with some elderly Americans who thanked me for our support. They also asked me to explain some of the signs, which proved a little awkward. ‘Fud’ is not a word that lends itself to polite translation. It was, however uplifting to share a laugh and all that we had in common.

Protest is important & powerful. Please join in whatever capacity you can. Be that matches, rallies, direct action or even donations. Be safe, but be strong.

You can put your money to good by donating to these organisations.

RAICES provide free & low cost legal services to immigrants & refugees in Texas.

The ACLU fight through the courts to defend the civil liberties of all Americans.

The Coalition to Stop Gun Violence does exactly what it says on the tin. The campaign for & work on legislation that will introduce gun restriction laws which will reduce gun violence.

Planned Parenthood provide sexual health services, screening, abortions & much more. They are essential for many Americans who cannot otherwise access affordable healthcare.

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I’ll be there for you…

I’ve had a hard week. Pain is hitting a consistent 7/10, I’m getting hardly any sleep & of course I have tonnes of stuff to do. So, when I had a free afternoon I really wanted to be still & rest. Alas, my pesky little sister really wanted to go to FriendsFest. She was so right, it was awesome.

The 90’s was my decade & Friends was the ultimate must see tv in those days. Stepping onto the actual sets of the famous apartments was really cool. All the other Friends themed attractions were spot on & tonnes of fun.

ly h Kerr FriendsFest

All the details were perfect & messing around with the interactive scenes was amazing.

Friends set

My sis was the perfect person to visit with as we spent a lot time watching Friends together when we both still living at home. We used to play a game where we’d give each other a random topic & we had to come up with a Friends related quote. Now that I’ve written it down that story looks kind of tragic, but we did cool stuff too.

Pivot, Vegas wedding, meat trifle

You probably shouldn’t marry your sister, but if you do try to have a sister who makes the ugly wedding dresses look cute.

FriendsFest was a blast. I felt like I was half dead & I managed to have great time. If that’s not a rave review then I don’t know what it. Oh & yes, I did look cute. A swing dress plus red lippy is the quickest way I know to take yourself from drab to fancy.

ly h Kerr, Lindy Boply h Kerr rainbow petticoat

Dress – Lindy Bop

Rainbow Petticoat – Lindy Bop

Necklace – Fuck the Tories.

Don’t even try to tell me you wouldn’t watch this show.

ly h Kerr, opening credits

You make me sick..

Chronic illness is a shit show. Sometimes literally. Which is thing a that often goes unmentioned. Beyond the pain, being incapacitated & generally hindered in life there is the embarrassment factor. Believe me, that’s no small thing.

Disability brings many embarrassments. Perhaps most notably, for me, is the discarding of a layer of delicacy that I cherished. I am not by nature a person who cares to discuss certain bodily functions. I don’t find toilet humour funny. I don’t need the details of your bathroom trip. I have weird anxieties about toilets/bathrooms that are not my own. I’ll hold a pee for ten hours because the toilets in the bar aren’t spotless or because I saw a hair in your bathroom. A pee used to be the absolute limit of what I would even consider doing in toilet outside my own house. Now, I long for the time when I could reject toilets willy nilly & only go in the privacy of my home. Those were the days.

These days I always need to know where the nearest ladies is. Often I can’t leave the house because I cannot be more than a few feet from my bathroom. If I go out the choice of where & when I deign to use the facilities is no longer mine. My stomach now reigns supreme. It’s not a benevolent ruler. IBD has put paid to any friendly relations between myself & my digestive system. Throw in a hiatal hernia, GERD, anxiety & fibromyalgia and you have the making of all out war. In short, my digestive tract rarely behaves. Whether it’s vomiting, diarrhoea or constipation it’s always up to no good.

Sick emoji

Now, along with cramps & heartburn & nausea & wind & reflux & horrible, horrible pain I get to deal with the crippling embarrassment. I have to worry that the public toilet will be packed when my stomach is in distress. I panic that I won’t get off the bus in time to not ruin everyone’s day with the smell of my vomit. I have to use friend’s bathrooms & worry if I’m taking too long. My boyfriend gets to listen to me throwing my guts up whilst he lies in bed; trust me, it’s not sexy.

I am constantly trying to manage these symptoms in ways that allow me to avoid talking about them. I time eating around when I will be in locations that I can easily to escape to the facilities without drawing too much attention. I’ll avoid eating before car or public transport journeys. Often, I’ll just stay home. At heart I’m still a person who doesn’t want to even allude to any of this stuff. I’ll say I don’t feel great when what I mean is one way or another the contents of my stomach are going explode. I’m embarrassed to talk about it. I’m embarrassed for other people to know much about it. I’m mortified at the thought of it getting worse.

Embarrassed chimpanzee

As hard as I find it I’m now a person who has to do these cringe inducing things ALL THE TIME. I find myself having a near panic attack in a cubicle because maybe people can hear my insides trying to get out. I’m quietly dying whilst Drs question me about my bowels. I am rushing into pubs you usually couldn’t pay me to step into to use toilets worse than the one in trainspotting. It’s awful. I hate every twinge & cramp & wave of nausea; partly because they feel rotten, but mostly because I’m embarrassed.

So, here I am talking about it. I’m hoping if I just put it out there for all to see I can stop freaking out. I know other people experience this stuff & I’d hate to be part of the silence that makes anyone else feel this rubbish. If nothing else perhaps being a bit more open will alleviate some stress, which can only be good for my tum.

My week(ish) in pictures…

I know it’s boring to talk about the weather, but can you believe what’s going on outside? We’ve had almost 6 weeks of solid sun & it’s still showing up everyday! Needless to say I’ve been trying to make the most of it.

The Toyboy surprised me with a wee spa break last week. As you can imagine I was delighted. Fancy hotel, lovely treatments & yummy cocktails. Oh & of course it wouldn’t be a hotel stay without some sexy lingerie. Hotel sex is the best, right?

ly h Kerr, stockings & cocktails

I can’t really handle too much heat, so indoor fun is essential if I want to avoid fainting. Yellow Movement Saturday at The Clutha was perfect as it is technically in doors, but the glass ceiling & tree in the middle of pub give an outdoor feel. The music was good, company even better. My particular favourite was Fnuf. If electronic reggae with a french hippie vibe sounds appealing you should check him out.

Project Post it at The Clutha

This weekend we took a trip out to Musselburgh to see some lovely friends & enjoy the sun. Lisa gives the best cuddles in the world, little James was cute as ever & Gordon revealed his wicked side during a game of Cards Against Humanity. Bar a bit of sunburn (I missed a bit with the sunblock) fun was had by all.

There has also been a dinosaur filled midweek movie, bubbles on the mound, project post it & lots of nail art.

I went swimming with my sis & bestie plus their adorable babies. Purchased the most incredible blue lilies & we did a spot of babysitting.

ly h Kerr, blue lilies ly h Kerr

My cat remains the cutest, I continue to snap random pictures, Oh & I had a really porny pudding.

ly h Kerr, porny pudly h Kerr, Project Post it

I hope you’re enjoying the summer as much as I am. Don’t forget your sunscreen.

Summer lovin…

It’s wedding season again & this year scotland even has the weather for it. Summer weddings are so much more fun when you can have some fizz in the sun. The rising temperatures also make cute floaty dresses an option. I have a couple of weddings to attend in upcoming months, so I’ve put together a wee collection of wedding guest attire.

Obviously, me being me, I don’t want any boring formal wear. Thus I’ve been scouring the summer lines for wedding suitable dresses that I can still feel myself in. I don’t have a specific look, I tend to dip into lots of different styles because I’m too random to commit to just one. The common thread is often being a little on the weird side & never blending into background. Luckily, the high street has plenty to offer that fits the bill.

Lindy Bop are always a good first stop on the search for a fancy dress. I love their retro styles & funky prints. I’ve yet to wear one of their creations that didn’t garner a million compliments. My top pick is this amazing jungle print 50’s piece. You couldn’t fail to feel like a starlet in it.

Keeping with the 50’s theme, but giving a slightly more sedate impression is this beauty. It’s basically an LBD with a little extra magic.

How wouldn’t want to be adorned in starlit woodland love?

Coast is one of those shops that always has a few gems hidden amongst the predictable. This dress is one of those sparkling finds. I love the light, flouncy layers, I bet it looks amazing on the dance floor.

Florals are standard affair for June weddings, but turn up the colour volume & they really come to life.

This wrap number from Lovedrobe would be perfect for drinks & canapés in the grounds of any luxe wedding venue. If you’re looking something more unique Elvi have you covered. This is is the prettiest jumpsuit I’ve ever seen. Flirty, floaty & graced with a cape. It’s the superhero of nuptial fashion.

I couldn’t do a dress guide without including my current colour fad. I am digging everything orange this summer & this tea dress is not the exception. It’s so fresh & vivid. The cut outs add a little sex appeal whilst remaining subtle enough to be worn in a church. Asos have knocked it out of the park again.

If I can’t exclude my flavour of the month it would certainly be remiss not to my mention true colour love; red. You can never have too many red dresses. I can see absolutely no cons to this particular example. The lace is so delicate, the fluted sleeves are divine & that v neck is just deep enough. Asos are on a roll.

Most of the time…

I haven’t cut myself for a long time. Realistically speaking, I cannot ever cut myself again. They call this recovery. Apparently, I’m recovered. I just don’t always feel it.

Tonight I looked through my old self harm pictures. Yes, I have pictures. When I was in the thick of it I always took photographs. Firstly because I felt compelled to, it was part of my ritual. Also, because I couldn’t trust myself to judge the severity of my wounds. Those pictures gave me the tiny bit of distance required to see what level of medical intervention I could get away with. Now, they’re a stop gap.

They’re the thing I do when I want to cut so badly it hurts not to. I look at those images of gore & miss it.

I miss the blood. The hot, flowing, staining everything I own blood.

I miss the smell & that crackling sound my skin makes when I slice into scar tissue.

I want the pain. I want the deep, sharp trauma my blade inflicts & the hot throb of infected tissue. I long for the ache of putting a butchered arm into a sleeve.

I know that doesn’t make any sense. I know it’s sick & crazy. It is still true. There’s a reason I yearn for the carnage; it works. Only briefly and, sure, it also fucks up your life, but those moments of respite are everything. Physical pain is nothing compared to the relentless agony that can exist in my head. Most of the time it’s manageable. Most of the time I can make it sleep. Most of the time I’m in control. Control isn’t easy. It is work. Exhausting, consuming labour.

The blade is easier. In the short term it’s beautiful relief. All those horrific feelings pour out with the blood. I can slash through my anguish just as easy I hack through my flesh. That’s why we do it. In case you were wondering. The reason some us do insane things to ourselves is because it’s effective. We hurt ourselves to heal ourselves.

The calm just doesn’t last very long. The sickness comes back. It returns stronger every time. The crazy grows. You need bigger, deeper, scarier cuts to keep it quiet. Then the self harm becomes a crazy of its own. You need it. You find yourself listening to drs who say you’re going to die. And even though you really don’t want to die. It’s hard to care. Now the crazy is trying to destroy you & the cutting is competing to do you in first.

So, I don’t cut anymore. I can’t cut anymore because I cannot control it.

If I want to be in charge,

If I want a chance at living a life I love,

If I want to not hurt everyone who cares about me,

I can’t cut.

Sometimes, though, I desperately want to. The easy way out looks good. The horror movie in my head wants to come to life, but I can’t let it. I don’t cut.

I just look at old pictures

And

Write all the things I can’t bring myself to say out loud.

I don’t cut anymore & most of the time I’m glad.

A pair of little magic glasses…

I’m mostly a go big or go home girl. I won’t wear one colour when I can wear three. I won’t pick elegantly understated over weirdly wow. This is absolutely the way I approach choosing glasses.

I probably have too many pairs of specs, but I don’t see me being satisfied with my collection anytime soon. Every time I see bold & extravagant frames, I want them. Thus I introduce to my latest ocular obsessions.

ly h Kerr

Cat-eyes are my favourite shape & blue was a colour I did not have. Need I say more?

ly h Kerr

I don’t usually buy prescription sunnies because I always lose them, but these were just too amazing to resist. I adore these so much that I might just manage to hang onto them.

Both pairs of glasses are from where.light who are my current purveyors of crazy spectacles.