Glad game part two.

So a while ago I wrote down a list of things that made me happy. More than likely it'll be the same but I think it's important to take the time appreciate the little things and focus on the good and stop letting the bad in. Anyone who knows me knows, oh they know. But they must also know how weird, happy, positive and appreciative I am. Anxiety tends to try and take over but nah, not th anyore. Whiners are wieners and I'm most definitely not a hot dog.

1) I really my own company - a stroll around the shops with my music, food in a small cafe and then home to tea and cake. It's been a while since I've been a 9-5er but it's important to get this trait back.

2) I'm glad for that after work pyjama and wine wind down and crap tv and self pamper time. I'm a simple woman (autocorrected was defiant I mean Somali) who likes simple things. 

3) My ability to put my all in to something. Not to say I don't moan, I'm a human. I'm a human woman for fucks sake. But I don't like to give up unless it's quite clear I have to. I'll want to do something, I'll do that something. Sometimes it'll be a good something other times not so much (ahem uni). I hate to quote Coldplay but I always say 'if you never try, you'll never know'

4) My friends. Those I don't see as often as id like and as often as I should. It's hard to get caught up in the rat race, ugh that cliche, but it happens. It's weird making friends right, you just meet a human and decide you like this human and you want them in your life and they're there without any formal discussion. My best friend I've known for 12 years plus and it's like 'oh shit yeah, that's ages' and my other pals I'm more than confident that each time we meet were as ace as we always are.

5) Spending time with my boyfriend. It's nice to meet someone on the same page as you, someone's as weird as you and somebody's with same outlooks on things. Sense of humour is key. If you're not laughing in your relationship you're doing it wrong. Of course we have differences but we're alike in the right ways and I'm lucky to have someone who knows how to deal with the odd anxious outbursts (that I'm dead set on stopping, promise)

6) People. I've always been a people person. In the one who speaks with the bus 'weirdo' everyone pretends they don't see, asking strangers where they get their clothes from and telling the cashier my plans for the whole day.

6) Last but not least my family. 

I'm a happy girl, I am. Of course it's harder than I'm making out. But no more giving it the room the manifest. 

Anxiety versus life

I'm an open person, sometimes I wonder if this is a good thing or a bad thing, I'm very honest and can't lie for toffee. And I really like toffee.

It's mental health awareness week this week and as I've seen several anxiety posts lately so thought I'd share mine. I'm in no way comparing it to anybody else's experience or any other form of mental health. It's those two words themself that cause such a taboo isn't it?Especially Mental. Treating it isn't as simple, easy or accepted as physical health. If someone breaks a bone you don't push them to get better you slow the bone to mend itself the same way I allow my mind to. I'm not on any medication for mine, I stress mine is acute but it does have days where it feels like it consumes me but I've learnt and still am learning to control it. 

I was thirteen when I was diagnosed with OCD, I had a counsellor through my school and felt so relaxed about it. It's weird because I've never felt ashamed by it. Long story short my OCD was put at ease and disappeared as I started puberty. I went on to plenty of westlife gigs, becoming a bit emo and stalking paper boys. Fast forward ten years,  I'm moving out my mothers and into my own flat and all of sudden BAM! It hit me. Insecurity, loneliness, fear and sadness. It was silly things. It was not being at home to help my family because I wasn't there that triggered it. I was lucky because my flat mate was a best friend who although didn't entirely understand what I was through, heck neither did I, she was always there for a chat no matter how obscure my problems were. I'll always be grateful for anyone who takes the time out of their day to speak to anyone with mental health. It helps so much more than medication. The only reason I don't, and it's a personal one, is because I hate the idea of something controlling my mind. I love a quote and I live by it "control your mind or it will control you" and no truer words have been spoken. 

A year and a bit on from from its reappearance and I'm so much better. It pops up for a day or so and lately it's my boyfriend who gets the brunt of my weird ramblings and I'm lucky that's he's just as supportive. I meditate when I can and I'm looking to start a fitness program. I'm happy and anxiety shouldn't be seen as a permanent fixture in your life or it will be one. You give it room and it will manifest. It's about focusing on you and your happiness, wants and needs and slowly but surely you'll fall nearly back into a dare I say a 'normal' life with routine and plenty of room for spontaneity. Thoughts will come and go but you'll have the ability to push them aside and do something proactive. 

Thanks for reading 😁

6 things I appreciate

People tend to get on my tits a lot, mostly because I'm working in town and have a daily groan at those office type (I am also an office type, but brush past this) who push past you, don't hold doors open and have no manners generally speaking.

People also restore my faith in humanity and certain people make me smile, tons. I thought I'd gather a collection of things that perk me up, simply because it's the end of the weekend and a great few days.

1. People who listen to you and remember things you've told them. This is so underrated. Nothing worse than talking and pretty much seeing your words heading in one ear and out the other. Conversation with an open mind is one of my favourite things, be it as intellectual or as weird, I enjoy it.

2. Little surprises. Be it a friend or a family member or a lover just bringing you something they know you like. No reason for it -  they just want to see you smile. Return the favour too, make sure kind gestures are reciprocated.

3. Strangers smiling at one another. It sounds count I know. I've always said people should treat each other the way drunk girls do in the toilets. 'You're hair looks great'  'I like your shoes'  yes it may be daunting to approach a stranger but I've done it a handful of times, I'll more than likely never see them again and if someone looks good I'll tell them. (I won't go out my way to follow said stranger, there are limits to kindness haha)

4. Problem shared is a problem halved. I'm an over sharer and this isn't something I'm proud of and learning to cut down. But saying that, people who want to listen will listen and will advise.

5. Trips away, days alone and days shared.  I love the idea of taking the weekend and using it so much it needs to clean itself with bleach. Three nights, two days. Make the most of your time with yourself and those around you. Be an opportunist. Adventure and make memories.

6. Comfortable clothing. Those are probably the two words that define the peak of my adulthood, my youth has just poofed away. Pyjamas and a glass of wine (maybe a foot rub too). Corr.

Oh look, another goodbye 2014 post

I haven't wrote in a very long time,  Christ . It's not Christ's fault. It's mine. Let this post be the start of it. But I will be looking back at this year as quite odd yet most successful years, weird huh?

Blah blah anxiety blah. I'm sick of talking about just as much as friends are sick of hearing about it.  It's all the acknowledgement and acceptance that has allowed it to consume my happiness (deep) but it's also helped me understand or at least try to that it doesn't define me. It's ALL about the mind. I've learnt a few tricks through studying and talking to people,  control it and it can't hurt you.  If you're there constantly talking about how sad you are and how shit things are,  do you really expect a mental improvement? I've always been positive. Cup is always half full. Always. Even when moaning because like my hero Karl Pilkington says 'moaning is like a fart, you feel better once you let it out'.  Anxiety is no laughing matter though and neither is mental health. Try not to be a c*nt and support where needed.

I have achieved a new job AND promotion this year so hooray for me. After years of bar work,  which I look fondly back on like the one that got away, and applications after Interview after applications I got a big girl job. I like the 8-5 life although the, 5.30 wake up calls are dire in this weather/season.

I moved out of my lovely Hagley Road flat and back to Walsall on a temporary basis. I miss city life,  bright lights. People walking into me and shouting 'excuse you' loudly all while hiding behind the biggest bloke around.

Overview of 2014 is a thank you for the lessons,  thank you for the new friends and for the old friends and thanks for setting me up for a more than average year.

Goals
Travel thrice◻
Start a new blog and write stuff ◻
Get fit.  Healthy heart = healthy mind ◻
Move back to Birmingham city ◻
Start studying towards new career ◻
Get a hobby you bore ◻

Obsessive compulsive cleaners...

Obsessive compulsive cleaners. I do enjoy trash documentaries, I do. Having suffered minor OCD as a child and on/off anxiety through teens to adulthood I'm forever speaking up for mental health awareness but this show does nothing but make the sufferers an entertainment piece.

Obsessive compulsive cleaner meets a hoarder, gets shown around their home while wrenching and slating the shit out of it. Yes a week old pan full of food is a bit rank but surely it's on the same spectrum as licking your toilet because it's looks so clean? Just because somebody is different it doesn't mean they are wrong.

All this show does, and hey I won't pretend I don't secretly enjoy it because people do fascinate me, is highlight quirks and how weird it may be to keep decades worth of typewriters or cry because there is a hair in your glass, it doesn't solve the underlying physiological issue. Rant over.

Growing up is difficult.

It's often said that life is journey of self discovery or some other bullshit like that. I love to hate quotes by the way. When I was young and I'd broken up with boyfriends I'd plaster my Facebook and BBM with indirect song lyrics and quotes thinking I was subtle, ha. Anyway...

At the tender age 24 I am still learning so much about myself. I'm becoming a sassy little bitch yet come across shy and reserved I think it's because i don't force my personality on people and I have started dislike those who do. I will talk to anyone and everyone but I won't try more than handful of times, sometimes you don't click with people. It's life. I don't let things get to me, I'm strong but I'm sensitive, I am a woman after all! I am happy though and surely that matters. Ambitious and pervy with a penchant for good rum.

Let's talk about sex.

Close friends will know how often I talk about sex and how open I am about the subject. I don't go into filthy detail and past lovers can wipe beads of sweat off their heads as I never talk about particular sex I've had. Just sex. If friends want advice or any worries than I can be there to listen or advise. I'm not a hussy at all. This isn't a little piece I'm going to stick on craigslist, it's just me wondering why there is so much taboo on the subject. We all do it. It is after why we here as a result of it. Don't get me wrong I won't spark up a conversation with a stranger talking about fucking just friends and boyfriends.

And why is it still considered wrong if a girl wants a casual sexual relationship but if a man does it than it's ok because it's the modern age and it's what everyone is doing. Who are these men having casual sex with then? Huh? HUH? When I've mentioned to friends it may be what I'm after I may as well have been lynched. Not multiple men. Just one man and one woman with a clear understanding of the get down. We all have needs until you feel the need to settle down.

Anyway, rant off my chest. No, this isn't an invitation. Unless you want it to be.

For quite some time and a few posts further on in this blog I have been expressing slight frustration at being stuck in a rut. Your early twenties are usually this way, it has just taken me some time to realise that it isn't just me feeling like this and how completely normal my current situation is.

If I am completely honest I have a big dream to make money and be a success. I don't particularly want to fall into the 'rich' category I just want to be comfortable and be the best at what I do. Just what in is what I am still discovering. At this moment in time (if we fast forward two weeks ahead) I am a waitress living with my parents however I am working and have been permantly for close to ten years. I have had little financial help (if we exclude the government hand outs during my university time which I am already paying off!) and always managed to pick myself up. Having to move home originally was an awful idea after having own place. The sense of independence is what drives me in life. Doing things my way when I want and how I want but I am more than grateful I am allowed back.

It's only when I take a step back and see where other friends are that I see that I am not alone. Even so what other people are doing with their lives doesn't mean I have to be doing the same. Life isn't a competition for fucks sake. I am more than happy at the moment and definitely not looking for marriage and children or even buying a house. I want to rent. I want to meet new people and learn new things. Above all things I really want to travel and with some planning and a lot of spontaneity I will and everything else that is supposed to follow will.

I am laying in bed watching cat videos.

Let me confess:

I can't wait to fall in love again.

Five things I've learnt since living away from home.

1. It is perfectly acceptable to leave washing up for a few days so it goes crusty therefore eaiser to wash off once you've left it in the sink for a further few days to soak. Dur.

2. It is acceptable for your morning farts to occur when friends are in house so they are fully aware that you are now awake.

3. Peeing with door open is unacceptable but pooing is fine as your housemates are aware your bowels are normal.

4. Watching TV very late at night and early into the morning is ok because you work nights and your housemates have uni and need hourly reminders of the time while you laugh at Russell Howard air humping.

and finally

5. Strolling around in your underwear is ok because we're all women and need to mark our terrortories as only Lioness do in the wild. Roar.

Glad game.

Things that make me happy.

First dunk in a hot bath, sip of a hot cup of tea on a cold day, knowing you can sleep in on days off, cuddles with my cats, cocktails with my friends, chats with my mother, pigging out with my sister, foot massages, praise, unexpected messages, freshly painted nails, Chinese food, cooking fresh, curling up with a book, hearing a forgotten favouriten song, trips to cafes and restaurants, flirting,  good eyebrows, red lipstick, good hair day, late night t.v, talking to strangers.

Stuff some self respect into yer gob will ye.

Another body image blog. Hello.

I am five foot one inches tall (short) and weigh eight stone. I have hips, thighs and a butt Kim K is envious of but small boobs because I can't have it all. I have never really had any qualms about my weight. I eat 'regular'; veggies, pasta, fish, potato and bare chocolate but I walk tons. I rarely gain more than a few pounds. However, whilst browsing Instagram because I'm a social media whore all I'm faced with is images hating on us skinny girls. Exchuuse me?!

It's like all these girls who weigh a little more quoting semi-famous celebrities with things like 'Real men like curves' 'Only a dog wants a bone'. Real men like what they fuck they want to like. Yes, some men may find tits and ass attractive but other men like us petite brunettes. All for body confidence but doesn't mean you can start hate. It's just as offensive calling on someone who is skinny as it fat, black or disabled. I don't need a 17-year-old girl from Texas telling me I'm less of a woman because I wear size eight jeans.

My bottom is fabulous thank you very much as is my little waist and little ankles. As are yours whatever there size.

diary of a twenty something freckle faced lady woman.

I once wrote an article on being an introvert and loving my introvert ways but almost a year later I think, somehow, I have edged more into the extrovert bracket and I'm not quite sure I like it.

If I were on a TV reality show I would be sitting with a green screen behind me probably with a city backdrop. I would be heavily made up because TV isn't realistic  and hell maybe even offered an FHM contract (sorry if you were eating, awkward). Growing up I was always surrounded by friends; I knew people. I wasn't disliked as such but I wasn't popular because I was a bit odd, still am a bit odd, so found majority of my high school years reserved, in my shell and with the same handful of friends. It wasn't until I hit eighteen and I met people who were equally quirky but instead of hiding it, embraced it. But how far can you go?

Taking a step back I realise I can often be annoying, a little irritating and yes, a little too full on or maybe this is all in my head and I actually am still quite a quiet kid. As I've matured I've become more acceptable with who I am or so I thought. I've become a lot more sociable as the years have gone on and due to this gain have gained a little confidence and without knowing I have become a tiny bit more of an extrovert. Less stay at home and more out every other night making new friends and talking to strangers about the state of the country.

I like the person I am and I like my quirks I just need to learn how to drop them in slowly when around new people. I don't try and be somebody I'm not but like majority of society, feel misunderstood (insert Coldplay). I am weird but get to know what's underneath the weirdness. There's a hell of alot beneath the weirdness. It's the approach I have to life. No matter if a person is a different colour, disabled or from a different social background, we are all in this together. I am usually the person talking to the drunk weirdo on the bus everybody else avoids, but in all fairness which one of us is the weird one is arguable.

Basically to conclude this rambling, I like Rebecca Helen George I just wish she'd know when to shut up and when not to say things and how to act in public.

How nice are you?

I like to think of Britain as the nerdy skinny cousin of the World. Nobody really takes it seriously until it becomes hellbent of revenge and kicks ass. We've done it twice before, so stop laughing at us. We're a laid-back Nation and will laugh at ourselves but we are proud and defiant that we can be better than our current state and will do all we can to do so.

I do have a point, don't worry. After reading Danny Wallace's latest piece in Shortlist magazine I began to wonder, how nice is too nice? His piece is about the over-thanking of a customer to a waiter and I flipped it on it's head. I am forever thanking customers for absolutely no reason at all other than being polite. Serving their drinks, 'One coke and a Peroni, thank you', serving their food 'Hi guys, two chicken salads, thank you' It doesn't make any sense. Say I have a customer talking to me about their life I am genuinely interested but when I have my manager staring at me sternly from the other side of the room with food to be ran and drinks to be served I find it awkward to stop them mid-sentence to run off.

I've done it in the past when I've bumped into bins and tables. 'Oops sorry' and when I've left MY phone on the bus and somebody has called me back and passed it to me 'Oh, sorry' like it's a bother to them if I don't have my phone.

I like to think I'm a nice person, but sometimes nice is irritating. I will compliment someones outfit if they look nice, I will tell somebody if their tag is hanging out their dress or toilet paper is stuck to their shoe but I am also a judgmental person which  if we're all honest are all guilty of it. That inferior gene that brings along it's competitive gene. Usually notice mine when I see people getting the jobs I want. Yes at first I am happy for them, they worked hard and deserve it but then so do I so where's my break? I can do this job just as good as them if not better..I then snap my bitchier interior away from reality and realise I am just being human.

Some people might look down their noses to me because I'm a bit weird but let them. There's nothing wrong with being nice and there's nothing wrong with being too nice. Yes it might feel like you're being false but if it comes across genuine then it's fine. I don't just make conversation with customers because I want a tip but because I enjoy strangers (that didn't sound so creepy in my head). I do, I love meeting new people and finding out about them it's just knowing when to stop. They don't care if you're cat has changed it's cat food and didn't really like it at first but now seems to be enjoying it and by the way I love your socks. I'd rather a reply from 'What are your plans for tonight?' wasn't me and Jim have a room in Jurys Inn and plan to shag until the early hours of the morning. This doesn't have to apply with work-life. Opening doors for people, smiling at strangers, letting an old lady sit down in your sit/on your lap or handing somebody's wallet in. It's the little things that you'd like to think people would do for you. For every one arsehole there's five more sweethearts, remember that.

the rise of the quirkster.*

* weird kid in class that will occasionally bust out singing songs from Titanic or have a week long crush on a guy because he has nice arms.

Hello. I'm Rebecca a 22-year-old lass from Birmingham. I'm an iddy biddy, all five foot and one inch of me and with three sisters each with their own lovely personalities I think from the word go I've had to fight for attention. Not really on purpose, christ no. Nothing I've ever intended to do, but I think it's finally time I accepted and loved my inner (and probably in your face) quirkster.

Over the years we've loved the quirky girl in films and sitcoms. Friends bought us Phoebe Buffay or as she'd like to be Princess Consuela Banana-Hammock and most recently Zooey Deschanel who is just as outrageous as her on-screen character Jess from New Girl. Even us Brits have the odd loveable odd 'un. Miranda Hart. Yes her show is staged but if you are a fan you know it's based on her life so there. How can I forget John JD Dorian from medical sitcom Scrubs with his constant inner monologue and love for appletinis?

I sing out loud. I dance in public (only if I'm with someone, I wouldn't do it if I was alone, dur). I talk crap.  I read tea leaves in a wine glass without tea leaves in it. I make a tit out of myself but I embrace it.  But I am (can I say this about myself?) quite intelligent, mature, ambitious, loving and kind and hilarious and not just when you're laughing at me. For a long time I refused to believe I wasn't normal and that I was odd because I always thought it meant being locked away in a white jacket and I really can't wear white because I'm pale. It was only when I found my old Bebo and my old Myspace and old diaries, yes I was a bore, aged 15 and stalked paperboys, that I realised I have always been this way and always will be. I've matured over the years, I'm wise and headstrong but I'm a crazy bag of crazy cats.

You shouldn't be ashamed of the person you are and shouldn't feel the need to pretend to be anything else. There is nothing wrong with unleashing your true self on to the world. Normal is boring. Nobody remembers boring. People might think 'Oh dear lord what is she doing' when I walk around work doing the mom shuffle dance but it's who I am. I can control her, sort of. She's usually at her best when on dates. Phoebe found Mike who loved her. Where's my Mike Crapbag?

It seems there are so much of us now and that being weird is the new cool thing. The new tamagochi or the new bubble back pack. So much of us that I have given us a collective name, the quirksters. In fifty years we will look back in fondness as we describe to our grandchild how we once made a sex joke when having a job interview and how we made up a dance routine in the middle of a pub on a quiet Tuesday afternoon.
There is a fine line to being a kooky kid and being a maniac though guys, don't run around the city centre in your batman pyjamas singing I believe I can fly.

Don't create a quirky personality. It's just as weird as me pretending to be normal. If you can't love yourself how can you expect anybody else to. Confidence is sexy. Purrr. Wave your freak flag with pride.

What we can learn from Hipsters.

Hipsters used to group middle class twenty somethings but in recent years the term has become loosened. It's now used to describe the pesky thrift shopping 16 to 21-year-olds who plait their hair and love their life. I've been thrown into the Hipster/Indie kid pit myself a few times. Just because I like owls, wolves, tea, cakes, beards, tattoos and vintage clothes doesn't necessarily mean I'm a hipster but yes, yes I probably am. If anything I am their leader, all these kids running around in their Oxfam clothes and raiding their mothers wardrobes. I will take you into their world and give you a few life lessons we can learn from these little rascals.

1. Love life. Hipsters, unlike goths and emos and skaters and chavs (society really is full of miserable twats isn't it?) are generally happy-go-lucky munchkins. Optimistic skipping about in their urban outfitter skater skirts and Fred Perry polo shirts.

2. Be a romantic. Quote songs and movies. Why? Why the hell not. See pictures either side, cuties aren't they? For these and similar please join tumblr, this is where Hipsters reside when not in second hand stores or coffee shops or tattoo parlors or dying their hair wacky colours.

http://pretty-hipsters.tumblr.com/

3. Save the world, get the girl. As majority of hipsters enjoy thrifting/second hand stores they are helping the British economy. Not only by recycling and up-cycling (cut your dress into a cropped t-shirt, go on, I dare you) they are helping the rise of our beloved charity shops and the charities themselves. They wear your grandads clothes, they look incredible.

4. They like cats and cats are loving animals. Cat's calm you down. Therefore stroking a cat a day will lower stress levels and inevitably keep us living longer.

5. The constant need to blog everything, your life is on the internet for the world and it's mother to see. Makes the whole 'Who you are' ancestry thing easier for your great grand-kids. Freckles and Frolics will be engraved on my headstone, dur.

6. They like coffee and reading books and baths. Something we can all relate to. Relax bro. 

So next time they push past you on the bus listening to their versatile i-pod (Kanye, One Direction and the Weeknd, yolo) in their vans, cut off shorts, tanned skin and pink dip-dyed hair think about the good they are doing for us, our economy and how much happier you could be if you let yourself take a leaf from the hipster tree.

Nation of TMI? OFC, LOL.

'Put it away for christ sake', I say as I watch a channel four documentary cleverly named 40 year Old Virgins. It documents a 45-year-old man and a 30-something Irish lass desperate to lose the big V. As I am a huge fan of weird and a huge fan of documentaries, I was oddly hooked.

In today's highly sexualised society it's easy to assume we're all comfortable talking about sex. I'm far from prude but there are things I want to see on TV and there are things I'd rather delete from my brain and this channel four documentary is one of them. Are we becoming a nation of over-sharing and where does it end?

It opens with lots of hands and clothed breasts and the odd naked buttock shot so it pretty much led us into this journey of no escape from the word go. You don't want to watch it but you can not withdraw your eyes from the screen.

Apparently, this is news to me, there are sex therapists in America called surrogates who prepare you for the big moment, right ok. So a lot of talking about likes, dislikes, turn ons and turn offs? Nope, think again.

We join Clive Dancey, pictured above, on his travels with his few sexual relations on his CV to America to meet his surrogate sex partner, Cheryl. Cheryl is an elderly woman, twenty years Clive's junior. She can boast a massive 850 sexual escapades and a part-time husband who is very understanding about her work, ahem. Within minutes the pair were sucking fingers and stroking hands, legs wrapped around legs before they'd even have time to introduce each (I might be exaggerating a tiny bit here, but you get the picture).

Irish virgin was a bit mean to her surrogate, constantly telling him he smelt like ham and that he had a sweaty face. Safe to say her trip wasn't as successful as Clive's. His training included naked spooning, yes I saw an old ladies downstairs and I wish I hadn't, dry humping and lot's of weird sensual massages which as lovely as they aren't something you wish to receive from your Nan.

I'd expect a subtle door shut as the big moment arrives; an awkward camera-man and crew waiting outside but no hapless Dancey is successful. Cheryl clambers on top of him and wahey, bingo. We see it all. All ten awkward seconds of it. Sat open mouthed yet eyes still glued to the screen I began to wonder; why would you want to share this moment with a) a stranger who couldn't make one session because she was collecting her pension (jokes) and b) the whole frigging nation!?

I think they are the same sorts of people who will show their warty arse to Dr. Christian or lumpy tits to Dr. Pixie of Embarrassing Bodies. Yes, I'm so mortified by my condition but sure I'll pull my kecks down in front of you and this camera crew and let you have a fiddle. It's not normal.

The same can be said for Secret Eaters and other fat/skinny based programes, a lot of which I disagree should be on TV but I believe there are under-lying mental issues with eating disorders and they don't need millions of people pointing the finger and laughing at them yet I still watch them as do you because we find a tiny bit of joy from the fact we aren't them. This isn't our life, those aren't our flaws being picked out by a pompous prat and more importantly those aren't our tits being fondled by Dr Is-he really-a-doctor Christian Jessen.

If you put it out there, we as the laid-back yet moan about everything nation we are will watch it and the probably complain about it on their blog.

Hey, it's okay

...to have a girl crush.

Blimey, I have a several a day. Miss Pervert is what I shall now be known as if you please. I mean this in a completely straight way (nothing wrong with lesbians, I'm pro same-sex love) but I am forever checking girls out.

Okay, yes more so than what they are wearing than what they are packing but I don't feel they realise this. I'm not a hand in pants sitting at the back of the bus type pervert, I will just notice beautiful people. Male or female.  I just love anyone who knows how to dress for their shape, whilst looking good. 

London Fashion Week '13

I once saw a girl in a simple get-up; black cropped trousers, black top with an oversized tweed jacket accessorized with (my current obsession) a chunky necklace. I prefer the more reserved style. Simplicity with effort. Somebody like Rita Ora, as gorgeous as she is, is the opposite to my style but each to their own. My style has been described ‘vintage granny chic’, they are really not my own words. I don’t purposely dress to a certain style. I’ll throw things together and if it looks good, I’ll wear it. I have constant 'I have nothing to wear days/where are my clothes?' days like the rest of us. I can't  just try on one outfit in the morning. It’s like five and then put on what we wore to start with. There are days I look generic if I’m heading to work, looking smoking in my too big for me jeans and black shirt and there are days I’ll make an extra bit of effort. I get bored easily with some items but, like most of us, have our beloved trusty statement pieces. Those blazers, those black boots, that staple blouse.

Style crush alert - Ne-Naw

Elegance and simplicity
 - Palermo style

My style girl crush is probably 99% girls on the street, girls in magazines and few celebs like Olivia Palermo (left)  who is the Queen of elegance without even trying and Fearne Cotton who likes to wow with daring prints or keeps it fresh, scruffy and vintage (so cringey, I know. And cliche) pictured right.  I hardly talk about my fashion influences because it people don’t really care. Friends will say they like something I’m wearing, I’ll say where I got it and conversation is over. We shouldn't be afraid to be like that with strangers. So many times I’ve asked a customer at work, in the street or in the queue in Topshop where they got their necklace/dress/shoes from, not so I can go and clone their outfit but just because it’s nice to see how other people dress certain items of clothing. Plus it gives a nice confidence boost to a stranger! Nothing puts a smile on your face than an unexpected compliment, even if it is from the crazy girl behind you in the queue.

My summer must haves are as always trusty nautical theme, bright pencil skirts, lots of stripes, cropped t-shirts, pleats, a-line skirts, brown wedges and lots of Aztec print. I don't like monochrome mainly because it doesn't suit my pastey skin. Accessories I just love trashy gold pieces. Lots of it. Think Pat Butcher on crack.

So, if you see me looking at you or occasionally double glancing please don’t be creeped out. It just means your outfit is smokin’. Like totally.

(sampled from a previous blog post)

Traits/Habits I Hate.

Right, just to set things straight I do moan a lot but I am probably one of the most laid-back sods you'll ever meet. I know, paradox much. I don't get offended and I swear like your grandad. I don't judge people but there are things that really grind my gears.

1. Arrogance - there is a tiny line that separates confidence and arrogance and not so many realise when they have crossed it. These people are usually too busy picking out others faults to notice or they don't care. They think the world revolves around them and it really, really does not. Get off your high horse and start living down here in the real world.

2. Correctors - You get something wrong, say a fact or joke and quickly realise your mistake and try to change the subject, but no, these people are on hand to point out and laugh at you and make you look a bigger tit than Katie Prices leftie.

3. Mouth open whilst eating-ers - gross. Even Adam Levine was sitting opposite me, naked and was slurping his soup and chopping sloppily on his steak I'd have to ask him to leave.

4. Look at me, look at me! - You have a big personality, we get it. Now sit the fuck down and shut up.

5. Arse lickers - I don't mean this quite literally, what you prefer to do in your own time is your own business, but I mean people who suck up to people. Usually bosses. I hate people who are false. I'm weird but I'm down-to-earth. Either like me or you don't but I won't go changing for anyone.

6. Racism - it isn't acceptable. Ever. Under any circumstances, but then again it isn't acceptable to play the racism card. Sometimes a white man will fight an Asian man for reasons other than his skin colour, unless proven otherwise, call him a shitty thug.

7. Bodily functions in public - from farting (why do I find it so horrible to have this word on my blog yet I have the word fuck at least 12 - count, I dare you) to nose picking. Especially as I have a weak stomach. I watched a woman openly picking her nose and ears on the train the other day. Even when I saw her she carried on, even looking at me like I was in the wrong for not digging out my orifices. Vile.

8. Me, me, me - People who talk about themselves. All. The. Time. They don't care about what you've been up to, just as long as you know what they've been doing with their lives they are happy.


I'm not perfect either so here are some habits/quirks I'm sorry for:
I talk too much, sometimes about nonsense and I'll expect you understand what I'm on about. I could be having a conversation with myself (I'm a right hoot y'see) and suddenly bring you into it. But on the other hand I do consider listening one of my all time top traits, I love conversation! I stare off into the distance, even if we're talking. I am listening to you. I promise. I'm just a people watcher and like to see what everyone else is up to. I hate that I do this but I can interrupt you while you're talking. Only if I have a similar story, I won't do it to shut you off. If I hear a song I like on the radio I will dance or sing, subtley, but yes, I will do it in public.

What are your bad habits? What habits really get on your goat?