August’s donation needed very little thought. I obviously felt compelled to help those faced with impossible circumstances in Afghanistan.
I can’t even begin to imagine how anyone deals with their world crumbling overnight. Especially when every single gain has been so so incredibly hard won. Our interventions in this country make this mess our responsibility. We must help those we have left behind. If you can please give whatever is within your power to one of the following organisations.
I am incredibly excited to be working* with the amazing Wilde Mode again. They make the best knickers (& more) in the entire world. Handmade, perfect fit and the coolest prints. What more could I ask for?
Well, let me tell you. Inclusive sizing (xxs – 10xl), eco friendly materials & packaging, diverse advertising, all staff earning a living wage, gender neutral, vegan owned, zero fabric waste & they even plant a tree for every parcel they send. This is exactly the kind of small business we should all be supporting.
Plus, the products are as good as their ethics. I simply can’t get enough these high waisted knickers. I don’t know why but having a big FU on my knickers makes dealing with rotten days so much easier.
If you need even more incentive, there’s still time to grab a bargain in the summer sale. Go!
I have been spreading myself a little thin & it’s starting to show. Hence, I’ll be taking a little break. I have a few posts I made earlier so I’ll be popping out of hiding periodically. In the mean time if you miss me you can check the links.
I love a good slogan t shirt. However I’m not really into the sensation of anything too restrictive around my neck. Enter, my shaky customisation skills.
I’ve hardly worn this tee because the crew neck felt uncomfortable. After some chopping & sewing I think it’s going to get much more body time. Add the comfiest velvet trousers, a spot of leopard print & you’ve got a look.
Do you believe in the one? I did. When I was young the idea felt intoxicating. A perfect match. One day I’d wander into the path of my heart’s desire & we’d trip right into love.
I loved all those classic romantic destiny type stories. I still do. Hugh Grant fumbling adoringly & Cary Grant being impossibly charismatic. Real life lacked such charm. I had false starts and wrong turns. The one who wrecked my poor heart. The one I wasn’t ready for, the one who wanted too much and all the ones who were just no good. That thrilling ideal became more complex.
My first big crazy disaster was followed by some close calls. Flirtations & flings. Trigger shy, right? I fell for Mr Big and Mr Darcy, but didn’t do much falling in real life. I skipped, through experiences good & bad. Some were lovely, though didn’t quite fit. Others were terribly misshapen mistakes. Most were relatively easy. Sure there was some hurt, but no devastation. I started to think that old soulmate theory was a ruse. In a world packed with variety perhaps there were multiple probable mates. Many flavour combinations that could work with a little customisation.
Then there was Mr Almost. Nearly all the things I’d always wanted. I think I recognised the difference the moment he entered my life. It wasn’t easy. He was complicated & stubborn & damaged. I am too. It was real, though. He made me feel perfectly at ease & totally alive. I wanted to climb into his brain and study him. I was frustrated, excited, soothed & challenged. I’d have turned myself inside out to make him entirely happy. I couldn’t of course. He couldn’t do it for me either. There are things that can’t bend. And yet, it still felt like fate. The spark never wained.
Grown ups have to do the grown up thing. You accept reality. Move along. There are new people; attention grabbing for a while. Until they pale. Comparison will dull the shine on a new beau. There’s making do, which isn’t as tragic as it sounds. You can have a lot of fun with someone who isn’t your destiny. There’s something to be said for building a life with a person who wants what you want. Happiness probably doesn’t stem from fierce passion. I wish I was the kind of person who could believe that with feeling. That steadier, softer, simpler kind of love is actually really nice. If only I hadn’t felt the wild & raw variant, it might be enough.
So, now I don’t know about one true love. I suspect the truth is somewhere in the middle. There are lots of possible matches for everyone, but we don’t get unlimited chances to find them. What I’ve learnt is while the idea of ‘the one’ is alluring. The reality of ‘the one that got away’ is much more powerful.
On Friday our original adventure was rained off, so it was up to Paw Patrol to save the day. The little ones absolutely adored it.
The adults were relieved to discover the puppies big screen debut wasn’t as bad as we imagined. I also managed to curate a cool look & even apply mascara. Big win all round.
The star is the show are these amazing leopard print tights from Snag. I’ve had them for ages, but Covid & then the heat delayed their first outing. I’m completely in love with them. Expect to see much more of them.
It’s been a tricky couple of weeks, so haven’t been out much. It’s so hot that I’ve been at home in my pants a fair amount. I thought I’d share the comfy & cute looks I’ve been sporting when I have crossed the threshold.
This dress was a gift from my Mum. It’s an excellent choice for this weather. It’s really light, but gives good coverage to avoid sunburn. I love the print and the flouncy skirt.
For a wee cinema trip with the boy I popped this dress on. I got it a few summers ago, but haven’t worn it very often. I didn’t realise you could see my knickers through it until I took this pic at the end of day, oops. Another excellent summer for this stifling weather. Loving the tie detail too. We saw the new Croods film & the boy thoroughly enjoyed it.
Finally, today’s outfit. I had one of my nephews this morning, but was too sore for adventures. I introduced him to minions & had a little carry on at home. This skort is my new fav as it is so easy to wear. I teamed it with the comfiest bandeau top & my trusty pillow slides.
Do you have a voice in your head? Your own personal narrator. Don’t forget your purse, ooh that’s a nice skirt, my head hurts, what should I make for dinner, did I answer that email? I’ll sit down at that next bench…
A running commentary guiding you. Questions, ideas, reminders. Busy, busy always going. An echo of you, so constant that you often aren’t even fully aware of it. Still there when you need it, though. Working through options when you’re not sure which is right. Slowing your tongue before it spits out something stupid. It searches through your memory catalogue and sounds an alarm when you might be missing the danger. It’s useful. A comfortable, familiar accompaniment to life.
Sometimes that voice goes rogue. It’ll bark at the slightest disturbance. You drop a cup & you’re a dickhead. It starts warning off attacks that aren’t coming. Tells you everything you’re doing is wrong. Maybe sometimes you are able to make peace. You both pause, think again and agree that perhaps that assessment was too harsh. Deep breaths or a task accomplished might win the other you over. On other occasions the voice knows its right. All aspects of your life are disastrous and you are entirely to blame. The inner critic skewers you; drives a fresh hole through all your crap.
It takes training to win a battle with yourself. You must master tricky moves to quiet the bitch in your head. There must be people who manage it. I’ve yet to completely get the knack. My internal voice is spiky. She (I) love to find myself at fault. Guilt comes easy and in no proportion to the perceived sin. My head is well versed in all the hurtful language I rail against. Dismissing your own internalised ableism, fat phobia, capitalist propaganda is tougher than talking down some third party arsehole. Anyway, to a certain extent I have accepted that my silent commentary will always do this. I’ve learned to challenge the initial thought. Wrestle it into logical submission. Sometimes I win , sometimes I lose, but I expect the onslaught.
Which brings me to why I’m engaging in this session of blog therapy. Lately, the voice in my head has developed new habits. She has us on perpetual clueless alert. My warning siren is stuck on active. I can’t calm down. However, when I question the need for this hyper vigilance the know it all in my head has zero answers. In fact, I can’t find answers for much at the moment. When I request help my internal dialogue tells me it doesn’t know.
What am I scared of? I don’t know.
What do I need today? I don’t know.
What should I eat? I don’t know.
Who will I pitch this to? I don’t know.
Should I take more painkillers? I don’t know.
Is this good enough? I don’t know.
What do I want? I don’t know.
Did I say the right thing? I don’t know.
Am I ok? I don’t know.
I’ve been anxious & uncertain before. Decision making has always given me trouble. I’ve just never had such a blank in my head. There’s always been a conversation. Typically I’d scroll through all the things in my life that could be a concern. I see it through to the worst possible outcome & decide how I could manage that. Once I’ve tackled that I can be less consumed by the worry. It’s not a perfect solution, but I have some success with it.
At the moment, there is no discussion to be had. This is free floating anxiety ALL THE TIME. I wake up jittery. I lie in bed nervously trying sleep and I am on edge every minute in between. Identifying real worries has no impact. At the end of that process the voice in my head is still shouting panic! I’m not a stranger to unresolved aniexty. I have PTSD, it comes with this territory. I’ve dealt with episodes of hyper vigilance. I do react to triggering stimuli. I’ve been in the depths of unknowable depression. This just feels very different.
The barbed inner voice can usually be relied upon to give me something to work with. Even if my instincts are brutal, I have a jumping off point. Now everything is so vague. I’m stumbling around in a room full of nothing. This isn’t a period of great change. I am not attempting to make life changing decisions. I have no idea what is going on & neither does my brain.
I know you all love my cranky little rants. So, here go, part 3 of all the current trends I ain’t buying.
I get the appeal. They do produce lots of really cute clothes for a total steal. The obvious fast fashion issues aside Shein has another dirty habit. They steal. Specifically, designs from small brands. They are notorious for ripping off independent creators & massively undercutting the price point. A quick google will show you just how often they do this. This is beyond scummy. It seriously harms those small brands & I’m not supporting it.
Let’s stay on fashion, but stray into I just hate it territory. The return of early noughties style is not pleasing me. Every site is packed with ruched barely there shiny satin. I was around in 00’s and I knew then that this was fashion death. I do not understand the resurgence of the Paris Hilton X early days Girls Aloud look. Some looks need to be forgotten and this is definitely one of them.
Next up will be no surprise. ProLon is the latest diet fad and it’s gross. Disappointingly this product keeps coming up in my socials. It claims to mimic a fast without actually having to fast. It consists of everything you’re supposed to eat for 5 days. Including soups, shakes, olives & kale crackers. In other words, hardly anything at all. ProLon makes all the usual quack claims; kick starts your metabolism, cleanses your system yada yada. It’s all the usual diet culture nonsense. Barely eating doesn’t clean out your system, whatever that’s even supposed to mean. Starvation diets damage your metabolism they don’t fix them. You may well lose weight eating soup & olives for 5 days, but you’ll put it right back on again as soon as you return to eating actual meals. Diets don’t work. Fasting is not healthy. Please don’t waste your money on this
DISAPPEARING BIKINI BOTTOMS
I’ll finish on a lighter note with the laughably small bikini pants. These are back strong this summer. I’m not denying they look great, they really do. I just have one question, where do I put my vulvu? I don’t care how petite you are down there the minute you move that fabric is gone. Your lips are absolutely going to munch those tiny bikini bottoms. I’m convinced that some sort of glue is involved and I’m not here for it. Neither is my pandemic bush.
For August my charity of the month donation was a no brainer. Priti Patel’s deranged plans to criminalise asylum seekers entering the UK by crossing the channel has highlighted the amazing work done by the RNLI.
If you aren’t aware of their work. Lifeboats provide a 24hr rescue service for ANYONE who gets in trouble at sea. They also provide lots of excellent sea safety education, flood rescue & international work with people most as risk of drowning. They are voluntary charity organisation who risk their own safety to save others.
The Tories quest to criminalise rescuing asylum seekers at sea is abhorrent. It also has significant implications for RNLI volunteers who’s policy is to rescue any person in trouble without judgement. The organisations has received harassment from right wing anti immigrant groups. The idea that we should ask questions before saving someone from drowning is repugnant. Lifeboat stations need our support now more than ever. If you can please make a donation here.
If you would like to make a donation & stand a chance of winning a unique piece of art l have a tip for you. The lovely & talented roseylivesonaboat is running a raffle in aid of RNLI. You can win lifeboat themed needle point art. Full detail are in her latest post.