Month: August 2016

I’m glad all over…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 9 Comments

On Saturday night I hit the town with my mum for some fashion fun. We had snapped up tickets for the coolest sartorial event; the Glad Rags Fashion Show.

The event showcases both what amazing stock they have a Glad Rags & how versatile thrift items can be. This year’s event had an emphasis on body positivity & embracing our differences. The models gracing the catwalk were all Glad Rags volunteers & each embodied beauty in their own way. 

The show itself was split into four sections. The first half focused on the store’s best donations. With a variety of designer names & vintage finds. My favourite was an amazing black velvet dress adorned with a sumptuous golf fan. If there was any chance of me fitting in it I would have snapped it up. 


The latter part of the evening included bespoke items upcylced by Glad Rags. This group included an amazing red body con dress which had been given new life with details cut from a vintage 70’s piece. Since I am useless I failed completely in the task of photographing it. Therefore  you will just have to take my word that it was joyous. 

The final section was actually my favourite. Titled, Androgyny the outfits played with combining traditionally male & female pieces on all of the models. Vintage tuxedo trousers belted of corsets were to die for. A floaty Victorian dream of dress was also my bag. 


Lots of the items shown were up for grabs in a silent auction (I managed to win something amazing for a certain sister of mine), but you can still find truly gorgeous bargains in store. I also treated myself to a wee delight from the mini pop up & I can’t wait to get it on. 


I am lover of vintage & 2nd hand and Glad Rags is honestly one of my favourite spots. From badges to ballgowns they always have something wonderful. In addition they have the most amazing ethos; recycling, inclusivity & supporting small  projects. If that wasn’t enough they’re a non profit go co- operative, so not fat cats here.Seriously, just go & fall in love for yourself.
* the delicious orchard cider may have impaired by photographic skills. 
Glad Rags & Glad Cafe can be found at 1006 Pollokshaws rd in Glasgow. 

I want to be rainbow high…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 1 Comment

On Saturday I had the pleasure of going wedding dress shopping with my beautiful sister. Bil & Mum were also in toe to admire & offer opinions. 

Wedding dress shopping is rather nice. The troublesome part is my sister looks stunning in just about every dress. Plus as soon as a veil appears I start bubbling. Luckily all spectators were in sync with regards to which dresses were contenders. The bride to be decided there is still more shopping to be done.

So, what did I wear to whitest enviroment in the world? All the colours, of course. I’ve had this rainbow delight for a couple of weeks & have been dying to get it on. It’s a super comfy maxi with the cutest crochet top. 

Dress – Simply Be

Cardi – Primark
The colours & the crochet make it feel very summery. Alas, Autumn appears to be upon us in Glasgow, but this will definitely be going in my Australia suitcase, which is in need of cool day dresses.

After shopping we had some lunch in a cosy/cool pub where Bil & I couldn’t resist messing around with the mirrors. 

Don’t patronise me…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 3 Comments

I’m struggling to sleep tonight. My  pain got a little out of control last week & so my dr upped one of my pain meds. It was quite a big leap & my body hasn’t been behaving since.  My mood hasn’t really been behaving either. It took a dive earlier in the week for, I imagine, a combination of reasons. Perhaps feeling so bizarre, or the pain or an upcoming anniversary. Who can say?

On account of the above there have been days when even getting out of bed has been difficult. Yesterday was one those days, everything hurt & I was very foggy from the meds, but things had to be done. Bronan had to be fed. I had to return some important calls & I had to put my bin out to be emptied.  Dragging myself out of bed was a struggle, but I did it. So, up I got, flung on whatever clothes were lying on the bedroom floor, brushed my teeth & completed those tasks as best as I could. I did these not because they would lift my mood. Nor did I do them as part of an ‘action plan’. I didn’t derive any sense of achievement. They needed to be done, so I did them.


Later, I tried to write, but couldn’t concentrate for more than a minute or two. It occurred to me that I hadn’t eaten all day & perhaps something in my stomach might counteract the effect of my medications. My fridge contained some broccoli that had to be used today or it would only be fit for the bin. So, I steamed that broccoli in the micro, poured some boiling water on noodles & flung soy sauce over both. I didn’t cook because it would make me feel that I was worth taking care of. I simply used the ingredients available to feed myself in the quickest manner because otherwise, I would not eat.

I tell you these things not because they are interesting. I certainly don’t mention them because I want applause. I merely draw your attention to these mundane activities as they are the reality of day to day life.
THEY ARE NOT SELF CARE.
Mental health organisations & increasingly, just anyone are constantly spouting the merits of self-care. I am so tired of hearing this bullshit. Everything I do does not have a therapeutic purpose. Mental illness (or for that matter physical) does not define me. I am a single woman living alone. There are always tasks that need taken care of. I take each day as it comes & do as much as I can manage. That’s just survival. In that respect I am no different from anyone else. Obviously my illness can make simple jobs difficult. Things the average person may take for granted come harder to me. That doesn’t change the nature of life. I either keep living to the best of my ability or I lie down and die.

To label each chore or treat self-care is to rob me of my basic humanity. I am no longer a person, but a collection of diagnoses’. Illness becomes my defining feature. I strenuously reject that characterisation. To measure my wellbeing by how many dishes are in my sink is insulting. Similarly, to minimise serious conditions by suggesting a nice dinner will make it all better is also offensive. A cute badge with a star & I took my meds or A childish phrase is not going to brighten my day. 

I live my life as fully as possibly. I enjoy whatever I can and try my best to endure the rest. Doesn’t that sum up most people’s experience? I don’t hear anyone congratulating ‘non-mentals’ or ‘non-spoonies ‘ for continuing to exist, so why are they patronising me?

If my thoughts on this offend you, then just imagine how I feel when several times each day I am confronted with the cult of self care. If it works for you, cool, you do you. However, don’t suggest I have a bath with candles to get over terrifying flashbacks. Don’t tell me to give myself a wee treat to combat searing pain. Most of all don’t belittle me by suggesting my daily drive to survive is ‘self care’. Keep it to yourself, darling or prepare for my wrath. 

I see right through you…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 4 Comments

What do you wear when it hits 30 in Glasgow? Well, if you’re me you go for an entirely sheer maxi dress. And you fucking love it.


I teamed it with this light summery shawl & the only shoes my swollen feet will consider. Then because I am a style fairy I slipped on some jewellery which matched perfectly. 


Dress – Primark

Shawl – Gift

Sandals – Hotter

Bracelt & Ring – Accessorize

I adore this outfit. I felt laid back sexy & incredibly comfortable in the hot weather. I took my see through dress to a movie where we  were frankly terrified for an hour & a half. The Shallows is good, but be prepared to let out the odd scream. 

This week I have been mostly…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 2 Comments

Horny. My stupid sore body has curtailed my sex life somewhat. So, yes I am confined to Jammies, heat packs & elevating swollen feet right now. I can still I’d hark back to the days when my legs were in the air for more enjoyable reasons & the music that calls them to mind. 

Madonna’s Music album is blasting in our kitchen. I’m making tea wearing just knickers & a vest when he comes up behind me. His neck kisses are more sexy than sweet; before I know it I am pinned against the wall & he’s pulling a breast from my vest. We are right in front of a large sash window & the folk in the tenement opposite can look right in if they want to. My protestations that someone might see melt away as his mouth drifts from my nipple & heads south. By the time he’s pulling my knickers down I couldn’t care less if the whole street is watching. As Madonna provocatively demands  the dj plays a song I’m having my first ever standing up orgasm. His tongue seemed to move to the irrististable beat, I definitely ‘danced with my baby’. Thus, from the electro popish intro to the classic Madge lyrics, Music spells sex to me. 

Sometimes you meet someone & you just know something significant is going to happen. That feeling was instant with this man. At first we talked. We liked talking. Those conversations stretched from hours to months. So, when we finally crossed the line into more than words there was a certain amount of anticipation. We needn’t have worried the moment our bodies slammed against each other everything worked. He knew exactly what I wanted without a hint of direction. He dominated me to exactly the right degree. As he flung my legs over his shoulders I had Dave Matthews Band playing in head. I loved that he knew I could handle it rough. Crash Into Me was that night set to music. It was hot & kinky, but also tender. As the bite marks faded in the days after this was the song I had on repeat. 


When an ex was left with the keys to lock up his workplace I ceized the opportunity to indulge in some gross misconduct. I turned up wearing not very much & offered to perform a strip tease in his boss’ office. The song I chose to shed my lingerie to was Touch Me. Dj Rui De Silva created one of the very few dance tunes that does it for me. I loved how it felt to dance to its seductive vibe in a heaving club & it translated to one on one. The lyrics were in synch with where I was at; intense, intimate sex was my thing. I liked that this club anthem was about more than just random fucking. The sultry tones & insistent dance track still makes me feel like a siren. 

I hadn’t been with a women in a long time when I felt a connection with a chick I had thought would be just a friend. Our feminist politics got us sparking, but her curves & penchant for spikes pushed us into bed. 212 was the song that got us on the dance floor that summer & it was the theme to our fling. The pounding drum that never quit felt like how she made she cum again and again. And again. Azelia’s fierce words mirrored our ferocious feminism. When the music takes on a rolling composition like waves breaking on sand I’m drawn right back to the sensation of breasts meeting soft stomach ripples. The song is forever a metaphor for the joy to be found in female flesh & intellect. 


When a fairly new boyfriend stumbled upon some of my sex toys whilst looking for condoms his reaction spoke volumes. Next time he stayed at mine I gave him a treat. To the triply strains of Goldfrapp’s Black Cherry, I cuffed & blindfolded him. Once I’d stripped to nothing but a corset I uncovered his eyes. I processed to straddle him & drive him a little crazy by demonstrating a shiny pink vibrator. The power of having him completely enraptured was so hot. His eventual begging to be freed & allowed to touch me came during the seriously seductive Strict Machine. As a result the 70’s/electro mash up never fails to make fails to make me feel like a sexual goddess. 

Sweet like chocolate…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 2 Comments

Hello, I know I’ve been bad. Not a single post in over a week. In my defence I am working on something incredibly exciting, which will be revealed very soon. For now, I have some tasty treats for you. 

Since biting the bullet & going full vegan I have obviously had to forego chocolate. I am happy to do that to avoid the abuse of dairy farming, but let’s face it, we all need a bit of chocolate from time to time. So, I have been buying up all the vegan chocolate I can find & testing them all. It’s been a tough job, but sometimes a blogger has get her hands dirty. 

First up is Cleo’s peanut butter cups. These are delicious. They taste exactly like Reece’s, but you can enjoy them with a clear conscious. Just don’t buy too many because they’re seriously moreish. 


Vegan Town £2.o5
If you’re looking for more of a classic then dairy free buttons are perfect. They take a little longer to melt in the mouth, but are otherwise rather nice. These are just the right size for a wee sneaky chocolate fix. 


Tesco 60p

Plamil’s Dairy Free is not the best vegan choc. It’s a little chalky & quite bitter. The mint choc bar (not pictured) is definitely the tastiest of the bunch. Not awful, but not yummy either. 


Holland & Barrett £1.19

Vivani White Nougat Crisp is a big yes. It’s smooth & rich & has just the right amount of crisp. Comparison wise, it’s a lot like a Bueno. Honestly, buy this, you’ll thank me next time your sweet tooth kicks in. 


Vegan Town 99p
I love some bite in my chocolate & the best bite is nice whole hazelnut. i choc Super Nut is a bigger bar & perfect for cosy night in. The chocolate is smooth & the nuts are delicious. Worth 2 quid of any vegans money. 


Vegan Store £1.99

The mirror has two faces…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 5 Comments

Yesterday I performed a fairly miraculous transformation. I was so impressed with myself that I felt the need to share my handy work. 

I posted the above on Facebook with the caption, left to right & out the door in 40 mins. All of which is true, but there’s so much more I didn’t say. 

What I didn’t mention was how I felt. My head was wobbly yesterday. I am titrating Pregabalin slowly up to recommended dose. This is an issue because every time I up the doseage the side effects come back. Hence, my brain was not that sharp. Along with that my anxiety was troubling me. The thought of going out alone was frightening. I was of course sore; my back & feet are a constant source of pain at the moment. So, basically what I’m saying is the first picture is an accurate representation of how I felt as well as how I looked. 

I worried and procastinated for so long that I only had 40 mins to get ready. I forced myself out the door with the aid of diazepam, earphones & big sunglasses. I still felt exposed. I dreaded anyone talking to me or even getting standing too close. I got lucky with an almost entirely empty bus, but my heart was still pounding as loud as the music in my ears for the entire journey. At every stop I had to force myself not to get off & go home. Every bump in road sent a shudder of pain up my back. I persisted because I’d really like to have a real life. 


I met a dear friend who I feel completely safe with. We had a drinks & I managed to relax to level where I could enjoy myself. The weather was lovely, the company excellent & I passed for an attractive human being. 

I’m smiling in this picture because I was having a lovely time. I was still in pain. I’m always in pain. I say that not for pity, but as a fact. For my one evening’s entertainment I’ll probably require two days of rest. Today I am suffering. 


My point is that invisible illnesses are often attacked as not genuine & the weapon used can be anything sufferers manage to do. 

You can’t be that ill if you can work.

You can’t be so ill if you can go out.

You can’t be in pain if you excerise.

You can’t be depressed if you can put make up on.

And on & on & on.

I’m offering myself as an example. Some days are good, but I never feel ‘normal’. There is always pain & anxiety. There are nightmares & flashbacks & urges to butcher my flesh. There are days when I can’t get out of bed & nights of no sleep at all. It’s shit to have to push & push to accomplish everything. We (spoonies) have no alternative, if we want to build a fulfilling life, we have to fight. Wether we’re fighting to wash some dishes or to have some fun with friends we don’t need judgmental bullshit to add to our burden. 
Your reward for reading me venting my frustrations is the cutest cat in the world.