Woman of the Week…

This week’s amazing woman Khadija Gbla is the executive director of NO FGM Australia. She campaigns to stop girls in Australia suffering fgm & to bring awareness to issue. 

  

She bravely & honestly talks about her own experience of fgm; from the trauma of the act as a small child to the lasting effects it has had throughout her life. Gbla’s frank discussion of her struggles with her scars, loss of sensation & fgm’s impact on her pregnancy are essential. Fgm is still greatly misunderstood, it is so important for everyone to know the horror that is being inflicted upon children & the lifelong problems that ensue. 

I admire Khadija’s determination to thrive & her drive to prevent others from enduring the same mutilatiom. 

 Find out more about  Khadija and how you can help.

My week in pictures…

 

It’s been a fairly rough week filled with more Dr’s than I would have liked. There were some amusing moments & cool snaps, hence I am sharing my hospital expoilts.

It all started last Monday with a pain in my lower back. By Tuesday it had spread around my side & all over the right side of my stomach. The pain had intensified to such an extent that I had to see my gp. Dr suspected possible upper uti infection, but wanted to rule out pancreatitis,so off to the hospital I was sent. Not, however, before I had to pee in a tiny bottle & was given two injections in my bum. One was for pain, which had no effect. There other for nausea, which was entirely counter productive as shortly after leaving the surgery I began impressively vomiting. 

I founf myself waiting to be assessed in hospital. For some reason I was surrounded by babies & their parents watching me repeatedly throw up into those horrid little cardboard hats. Once again it’s a round of peeing in various receptacles & being prodded by numerous medical personal. The result being I was admitted with probable kidney infection.

After another two injections in my arse (their is no dignity in being ill) my behind was now feeling a little tender & turning some vibrant colours. My nurse was unable to get any blood despite trying both arms & hands. A Dr was then summoned to attempt to draw blood. Much to my embarrassment the Dr who arrived is already known to me. I had a fling with him many years before. So, I find myself lying in a hospital gown, groaning whilst a very attractive surgeon who has seen me naked pokes me with needles. Only I could end up in the medical care of an old shag.

  
Anyway, blood is finally collected & kidney infection confirmed. I stay in hospital for a further day 1/2 for Iv  anti biotics & pain relief. On Thursday I walk free & consider my ordeal over.

I spent the rest of the week pacing around as kidney pain is worse at rest. I tried my best to rest & even ventured out with my sis at the weekend. We were treated to perfect spring weather. It felt good to be out in the fresh air surrounded by new blooms. 

  

  
As this week began all felt well. I was still a little tender, but otherwise much better. I probably over did it catching up with house work & errands on Monday. Meaning that by dinner time I was exhausted & needed to have a nap. And, that’s the last thing I remember until I came round on the hall floor in dark. My face hurt & I was very confused, but otherwise unharmed. My first instinct was just to go to bed, but after consultation with my sister I realised I had to return to hospital. Que scans, X-rays & a night of observation. Luckily I only have a mild concussion and a bashed up nose. I had no encounters with long lost lovers and I pray I have reached my hospital limit for quite a while. 

  
Oh & my squinty nose is real sexy. 

This week I have been mostly…

admiring my hair. Yup, that’s right, I’ve been loving myself again. I’m a proud ginger & this week I have been enjoying some tunes that celebrate my flame haired sisters. 

  
I’m obviously not a big fan of stereotypes, but in the case of my hair colour, most of them fit. I am your classic cliche of a redhead and I love it. 

I came to Bruce Springsteen late. I was too young & in any case my tastes diverged from his most famous stuff. The Ghost of Tom Joad was his first work that caught my attention. From there I listened to random pieces & found myself agreeing with some of his politics. In short, Bruce grew on me, but he didn’t win my heart until I heard Redheaded Woman. I love the down & dirty lyrics. His theory that red heads are more sexually charged is actually backed by science. It’s a rollicking tune and Bruce’s delivery is so believable. I can personally attest to the fact that redheads get the job (dirty or otherwise) done & I’m certainSpringsteen can too. 

For my next pick I’m going all hipster & demanding you listen to the original.  Valerie by The Zutons was an immediate favourite for me. I actually adored their entire debut album. My affection for this song has grown as numerous people have told me that it reminds them of me. I think the lyrics 

‘I miss your ginger hair & the way you like to dress’

are the culprits. I am well known for my sometimes unusual style. It pleases me that friends appreciate both my weird clothes & my ginger mane. I know Amy WInehouse’s version has become the standard of this song, but I’ll always love The Zutons best. 

Neil Young’s Cinnamon Girl is probably the original manic pixie dream girl, but without the negative connotations. He claims to have just seen a girl in the street, adored how she looked & wrote this gorgeous fantasy. The lyrics don’t specifically say that she has red hair, but I like to think that cinnamon refers to her spicy locks. I’ve always been a hippie chick, so Neil Young is so up my street. I’m a complete sucker for this hazy, lazy trip of a song. Wouldn’t it be perfect to inspire a dream like this. 

Caroline England is new to me. I stumbled upon Ginger & knew I was going to like this artist. The song is another celebration of scarlett ladies, but this one has edge. England hints at some of the crap gingers sometimes have to put up with. However, she doesn’t wallow, her message is I’m awesome & you can suck it. Which, I can relate to. The unusual texture in her voice adds a unique sound to the track. It’s an instant classic. 

Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside….

I took a little trip to see my friend & her lovely boy on Friday. She lives in Musselburgh, which is a seaside town outside Edinburgh. I love any excuse to get close to the sea & Lisa (and James) is a fabulous reason to go anywhere.

  
It was chilly & wet when I set off so I employed my new beret to keep my head warm. I don’t wear many hats as I don’t usually look great in them. Thus, I was surprised to discover that berets are totally my thing. 

  
I was also chuffed with the new dress I donned. I’ve had my eye on this for ages and finally snapped it up in the sale a few weeks ago. The cat print is purrfect & the colour matches my eyes. 

  
Dress – Voodoo Vixen

Cardigan – Monsoon

Beret – House of Bruar (gift)

I really love the neckline on this dress. The fit is superb & the large pockets are a dream. 

I can only share the mirror selfie as I had so much fun with my east coast chums that I forget to get any pictures. However, I did remember to snap some photos of our escapades. 

  
(That feline beauty is Bronan’s sister, Mena)

When you’re strange…

I have always walked on the weird side of the road. From a young age I decided the best option was just to embrace my quirkiness & roll with it. It’s a strategy that has served me well. Sure, I still get stares from strangers & folk making snap judgements about me, but fuck them. 

I’ve found that confidence in strangeness is the key. Don’t be apologetic or hide, boldness is the way. No matter how odd your views or look there are always like minded folks  & the Internet guarantees you can find them. However, you don’t have to section yourself into a little pocket of society. I have friends of all varieties, many don’t really get a lot of my choices, but they support them nonetheless. A frequent occurrence for me is having newish friends confess that their first impression of me was ‘weird af’, but on further inspection they found they liked me. My point is eveyone is entitled to be exactly who they are; people will love you despite or because of your differences. 

So, what better way to celebrate my irregularities than celebrating some classic eccentric chicks? 

I’m going to kick off with my 11yr old hero, Blossom. Blossom was my fashion icon. I had several floppy hats that I pinned at the front with ridiculous badges. More than that, I felt a kinship with the character. She was smart & quirky & frequently teased by her ‘cooler’ older brother. I think Blossom was my first hint that being weird could be amazing. I’ll always love her for that. 

  

You can’t talk about weird characters without bowing down to Pheobe Buffay. Pheobe was me. She was the veggie, hippie, black sheep of her group. The other ‘Friends’ were continually puzzled by her, but loved her anyway. Moreover her outlandish ideas often held a needed wisdom.  Pheobe walked her own path, which was exactly my plan. As a teenager it was so affirming to see a woman like that on the biggest to show in the world. 

  

Ok, so I’ll preface this with saying that Lena Dunham is problematic in a number of ways. I can’t stand her. Some of that bullshit filters through, but there are aspects of Hannah that I really like. I arrived at the Girls’ party very late. I have only recently delved into it & was of course sucked into a box set binge. Yes, all of the characters can be hideous and by the end I’m not sure I actually liked any of them. Hannah, though, had something. She is odd. She makes some horribly bad choices & let’s face it, she gets annoying. Her whiny privilege is not something I aspire to. Even, so, I like elements of her character. I adore her body positivity. She wears whatever she wants & she gets naked whenever the notion takes her. She’s a writer, she struggles with her mental health & she loves a very kooky man. Most of all she is honest (perhaps sometimes too honest). She’ll talk about scary feelings & taboo topics alike. Shame is not a thing to be tolerated in Hannah’s world & I’d like to see those features in more (& better written) main characters.

  

Now it’s time for ultimate 90’s weirdo, Daria. God, I still love her. Daria is everything. She’s cynical & witty; she shuns all conformity. Fashion is irrelevant, popularity a non issue. Daria & her equally cool friend Jane live in their own world. She finds her cheerleader sister ridiculous. Her come backs are top level. She even has a romance with an older musician dude without altering herself one bit. For your supreme snark & flawless misandry, I salute you Daria. 

  

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.

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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. 

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. 

  

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