I hate you so much right now….

I’m having one of those days when life seems determined to subvert my plans. It is, to say the least, infuriating. So, I thought I would vent my frustrations by having a little bitch about the smaller things that get my goat.

If you’re wearing anything with a wizard on it, you might want to stop skip this bit. I’m afraid when I see an adult reading a Harry Potter book I have to suppress the urge to scream. Those stories are for kids. Read a grown up book. Given what we’ve subsequently discovered about the author, supporting her work at all is gross.

Staring. Stop it. It’s just basic manners. I know I’m fat. I know my boobs are enormous. My clothes are weird, but continued looks won’t alter that. Yup, I have scars & piercings & tattoos. Stop gawking. Oh & whilst we’re on the topic quit nudging your mates & whispering too. I see you & it’s rude. Seriously, just stop it. 

  
Carol Vorderman. She’s not a genius. She’s not even likeable. She does morally questionable adverts & her face just annoys me. I don’t have very good reasons for my hatred. I just can’t stand her. No more woman. No more. 

Gin. It’s horrid, but only recently has it made my list. Some marketing dept somewhere clearly decided they needed to make gin cool & man alive have they been successful. It is now almost impossible to find a cocktail that doesn’t have gin lurking in it. Events have gin only bars. Everyone in the bloody world suddenly lists it as their favourite tipple. It’s taking over. Go away gin. I don’t want you.

  

I’m going to wrap this up with my current top level pet hate. Basic bitches. I think my interpretation of this phrase may be slightly different from other folks, so I shall explain. What really winds me up is chicks whose understanding of feminism & womanhood is peripheral. The type of person who doesn’t think trans women are ‘real women’. They love a bit of slut shaming & feel gender roles must be adhered too. This is a girl who conforms, they will  mock anyone who dares to be different. Solidarity is not their watch word. They’re basic & more often than not, they’re bitchy AF. 

  
(I’m amused by this meme because Judy can be basic herself)

Disclaimer : If you’re a gin swilling, relative of Carol Vorderman, some of this post is just a tongue in cheek rant. 

* Vorderman gets some props for her recent political discourse, but my illogical dislike remains.

If you like what I do you can support me here or on Patreon.

My week (ish) in pictures…

I have been having a lazy, slouchy time of it clothes wise. As such I haven’t snapped too many outfit pics. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been galavanting. It seems a shame not to share some of the moments I’ve captured solely because I didn’t look glam that day. So, here we are, embarking on another week in pictures post. I hope you enjoy a wee nosey into my going ons.

I know a lot of folk find them tacky, but I loves me a mirror selfie. I snap one any time I feel cute or sometimes even when I look amusingly rough. Sushi & Ringo are also always wins.

  
  
I can’t recommend Jonathann Coe enough. If you are new to him I’d start with The Rotters Club & it’s follow up The Closed Circle. Once you have digested those melancholy triumphs, mosey on to this mysterious tale.

  
Drinks with Aidan, hotels with neon stags & my amazing little crazy face pulling niece are all things that bring me glee. 

   
If you haven’t tried Lush’s Intergalactic bath bomb, you need to. Not only does it turn your bath into a blue bliss, but your skin continues to sparkle for hours. Strawberry gloss at Krispy Kreme are also a big hit. 

   
Sometime’s you have to be prepared to do battle. Sabre tooth Tigers will step right out of line if you don’t show them who’s boss. 

  

Woman of the week…

Sierra Demulder is a feminist poet. Her work is raw, powerful & on point. Her humour is displayed where appropriate, her pain when neccessary. She covers topics dear to my heart. In short her poetry blows me away. 

I think it is vital that we talk openly about feminist issues. It’s so important to dispel the old tropes & teach girls ( and women) that their voices matter. Poetry is the perfect vessel for rage, passion, joy & fear. It’s a beautiful way to be heard. It’s also a beautiful way to encourage woman to speak out loud, to give life to all the thoughts banging at our skulls. 

You’re my cup of tea….

My last spring coaxing post may have worked. We had a lovely mild & bright weekend, which gave me an opportunity to wear a pretty dress. My little sister got engaged last week. Needless to say I am excited, as are both the mother of bride & groom. So, we all went out for afternoon tea & talked weddings. 

  
  

Dainty cakes & such a stunning venue called for a little effort. I whipped this beauty out of hibernation and launched operation pretty.

  

  

  

Dress – Lindy Bop

Belt – Asos Curve

Shoes – Irregular Choice

The cakes may have been delicate, but I am not. 

  
  
 

Spring Forward….

I wish Spring would hurry along. Not just because I am perpetually freezing, but also because there are crazy cute pieces filling the shops. Here are a few beauties I cannot wait to get on my body.

  
Lavish Alice, Diamondoodles (Etsy), Yours Clothing, Simply Be.

  
Barnes, Asos, AmyBlueIllustration, Simply Be. 

  
Meg Biram, Lindy Bop, Forever21, Feminist Apparell.

  
Primark, Asos Curve, Asos, Lindy Bop. 

As soon as there is the slightest hint of spring in the air I am going to be one chic, flirty babe. 

Homeward Bound….

I have a recurring dream.

A dream of such contentment that whilst asleep I am cradled in bliss. 

It’s a simple dream,

I am home, in bed.

The room is dark, but lit with a blue glow,

I feel a gentle breeze

& the happy purr of my cat vibrates beside me. 

My hand rests on my firm, round belly,

caressing the life that resides within.

In the distance I hear Simon & Garfunkel singing about where love lies waiting.

I am blanketed in happiness.

As the music grows closer,

I approach reality.

I bask in the feeling for a few magical seconds before sadness drowns me.

I realise as I rise to start my day where home is for me

And how much I long to be,

Homeward bound. 

You should see my scars… 

Today is self injury awareness day. I’ll be honest I’m fairly jaded about awareness days. Especially those of the mental health variety. Too often they seem to me to be highlighting the wrong things. Today hasn’t broken the mold. Almost everything I have read in relation to self injury awareness day (SIAD) has focused on the usual stereotypes. Some have just missed the point entirely. So, I have decided to share a little of what goes on in the head of a person who is hurting themselves Specifically, this person. 

I don’t fit the stereotypes. I didn’t hurt myself as a teen. I wasn’t bullied & had a picture perfect childhood. I was never desirous of attention or seeking care in the form of dressings & kind medical professionals (ha!). I’m not stupid or dangerous or crazy. I have fought this battle as an articulate, independent adult. I’ve hidden wounds & scars through university & work alike. I kept a secret shrouded in stigma. Constantly confronted with the idea that my problem was one that should only face little girls. Shamed by the opinion that I am an incompetent drama queen. 

I am none of the above. Rather, I am woman who suffered trauma that altered my life. In the depths of anguish I stumbled upon a solution; a maladaptive survival technique. An act sought out to gain control when I felt powerless. Lamentably, my source of control rapidly overtook me & established dominion. Self harm is so complicated. It’s scope is different for each individual. For me, it become all encompassing. My daily thoughts circled around if/when I would cut. Being proficient was paramount. Every cut had to be ‘better’ than the last; I sought deeper wounds, more blood, more damage, more more. Self harm entangled itself into my identity. 

Admitting that & asking for help felt like relinquishing part of my self. Not only was I facing the loss of self harm, but also the strong, capable parts of myself that made me feel worthy. Admitting that I could no longer cope was the most vulnerable I have ever been. Believe me when I say that to face stigma & prejudice in that state is crushing. To gather all your courage to tell a therapist the ugly truth & be faced with a ‘just stop’ attitude is soul destroying. Equally dragging your blood soaked self to a&e only to be treated with disgust can break a person. That the is the problem I & many others most need addressed. 

I believe SIAD should be about acknowledging the complexity of the issue. We should be focusing on changing the attitudes within the medical profession. Yes, let’s educate our communities about mental illness, but let’s also change the entrenched attitudes within the institutions that have the power to destroy lives. The worst stigma I have faced has been from dr’s & nurses who ought to have known better. Stigma is never positive, but I’ll take a hundred ignorant strangers over one cruel dr. Being unable to safely access treatment can kill. We need to take the fight to that front line. 

  

If you like what I do you can support me here or on Patreon.