What Would Lizzo Do?

“I don’t think that loving yourself is a choice. I think that it’s a decision that has to be made for survival; it was in my case. Loving myself was the result of answering two things: Do you want to live? ‘Cause this is who you’re gonna be for the rest of your life. Or are you gonna just have a life of emptiness, self-hatred and self-loathing? And I chose to live, so I had to accept myself.” ~ Lizzo


Everybody and their cat is about Lizzo at the moment, she is simply everywhere. Dominating the charts, the awards shows and the world. She’s a true (fat) queen preaching common sense about self-love and acceptance – and a talented, hot AF one at that.

I’m aware self=love is something of a buzzword around these parts. I talk about it a lot, vowing to love myself a little bit more every time. And believe me, I try and for the most part I truly do accept myself. Self-acceptance doesn’t seem to be a you have it or you don’t type deal though, not for me. I would say I’m a work in progress, my core gets stronger every day but every so often I lose my shit all together and I am brutal to myself.

I’m trying to get to grips with the horrible things I say to my inner self. I mean, I wouldn’t talk to my enemy with this much vitriol so why on Earth do I accept it from myself? How dare I?

As Lizzo suggests, at almost 42 this is pretty much the blueprint for who I’m going to be. I might change slightly over the years but the foundations are set. I have no choice but to well, shit or get off the pot. Or, as Andy says more delicately:

“I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy living or get busy dying.” ~ Andy Dufresne, The Shawshank Redemption


I think it might just be that simple. She says, realising that if it was we’d all be Lizzo all day, everyday. I’m going to try though, honestly for my own sanity. The next time my brain tells me to fear something or questions my competence, intellect or the way I look, I’m going to shake it off. Do a star jump or something and try again.

Lizzo would not stand for this total fucking bullshit and nor will I. I’ll leave you with another quote from the wise one from the 2019 MTV VMAs:

“Let me talk to y’all for a second. I’m tired of the bullshit. And I don’t have to know your story to know that you’re tired of the bullshit too. It’s so hard trying to love yourself in a world that doesn’t love you back, am I right?

So I want to take this opportunity right now to just feel good as hell. Because you deserve to feel good as hell. So tell me how you’re feeling?”

How are you feeling?

Here are a couple of Lizzo-centric articles about self-acceptance:

Unpretty

I recently downloaded not one but two new apps onto my phone. Nothing new there, most of our lives are more or less managed with a cheeky app or two – but these are for photo editing. Which is fine in itself but after spending a good hour the other night doing ‘minor touch-ups’ to a selfie, I had to stop and have a word with myself.

You’re going to have to excuse this self-indulgent post, I’m afraid. I’m about to bang on for a while.

I’m not against photo tweaking in theory. I’m the queen of touching up a spot or two and choosing a damn good filter. I’m forever adjusting the lighting. This is deemed the new norm in our Instagram world and I’m all for it, as long as we’re honest about it. Life isn’t (always) like the images we use to paint a positive life. If I were being honest, my grid would be full of me lying naked and puffy in bed, avoiding the world.

The addition of these apps to my life is different because I’ve been leaning on them far too heavily. I’ve been changing the shape of my face, tightening my jawline – thinning my nose. More than that, the app can give you the perfect winged liner, eyeshadow and lashes for days – technically you’d never have to put on a face again. But it feels false and it goes deeper than just tweaking a few things ever so slightly – I look like a doll version of myself and it’s creepier than Annabelle*.

The reality is: it’s time for me to admit that I’m not pretty.

Before you say something nice to make me feel better, I know I have some *okay* features and can scrub up when I need to. I also know that ugly girls are never really ugly girls. As the man himself once said:

“A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly. You can have a wonky nose and a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts it will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.” ~ Roald Dahl

Idealistic I know but there’s truth in that statement. However, it’s time for me to come to terms with how I really look.

My lovely friend took and posted a video of me on Instagram at the weekend and secretly, watching it back on my own later, I was devastated. I look awful, all chins and bad skin. But really, so what? I was pissing about in the park with a friend and he cut the video to the chorus of Buffalo Stance by Neneh Cherry (my favourite song of all time). My hair looks good and I’m wearing my favourite outfit. Above all else, I’m having a laugh.

So I’m not beautiful like my friend, who looks like Bambi’s girlfriend on her very best day – I’m still loved and lovable and cool. I have never been beautiful and my life was never meant to be lived like a drop dead gorgeous person – if anything, perhaps I’m lucky?

I am sure I don’t have to worry about half the things my fit friends do. I mean, that sounds cavalier because all women have experiences of being harassed or made to feel uncomfortable – and it seldom has anything to do with looks. But I have been around seriously good-looking women who are treated differently to me. It looks tiring.

If I can truly accept that I’m no looker and tell the world, “I’m ugly and proud” then maybe I’ll be happier? I’m tired of kidding myself.

It’s much easier said than done though, isn’t it? I’ve recently talked about making more effort with my appearance which is quite contradictory to what I’m saying here. Or is it?

I mean, taking pride in my appearance as self-care is different altogether to trying to conceal how ugly I am. There’s not enough highlighter or eyeliner in the world to polish this turd – if anything, it makes me look even worse. I can have fun with it though for the sake of how it makes me feel. Accepting my ugliness has nothing to do with letting myself go.

Really accepting one’s self is a delicate balancing act – on one hand, accepting that I’ll never be a knock out is quite liberating. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks of me as long as I’m happy and feeling myself – and I am under no obligation to be pretty and shiny. I don’t need validation from others in the way I did when I was 21 either, though yes it is nice when someone compliments you.

But on the other, man this world is cold and harsh at the best of times – and it’s hard not to compare ourselves to others or covert what they have. A thigh gap, bigger eyes, perkier boobs.

I can’t do it anymore, I need to step away from the Photoshopping apps. I’m deleting them as soon as I finish this post. If I don’t, who knows where it will end? I’ll be Edvard Munch’s The Scream with four inch eyelashes.

From now on, I accept it: I’m not pretty, and that’s a) a fact and b) totally, honestly okay.

*This is absolutely no shade to anyone who edits their photos. Many of my friends are pros at it, and I respect it.

(All images by Juno Calypso)

Guest Post: Why I love My #Selfie

13335849_10154323988412022_7277487513200349573_nI can’t remember exactly when I stumbled across Hayley and her lovely blog A Stitch to Scratch but it feels like a good couple of years ago. I’m very glad that I did too, as Hayley has an aura about her than not a lot of people do. She’s so talented as well, knocking up some really interesting pieces, from toys to secret books and more recently, her own dresses. I’m beyond jealous of her skills.

I feel like we’re also on the same page when it comes to the big stuff, such as self-image and loving ourselves, body positivity and the power of a damn good jumpsuit! Hayley also rocks one of the most impressive lipstick collections I’ve seen (something I’ve never got to grips with) and although some of our tastes differ, I feel like we can learn from each other, which is the whole point of new friends and getting yourself out there.

So please enjoy this post by this blog’s honorary Maid of Honour and then check out her blog as it will likely inspire you to knock something up, MacGyver-style (but prettier).

The wonderful Christa invited me to guest post over here on one of my favourite ever blogs, and well, I was never going to turn that down!

I started out wanting to write a witty post about a subject near and dear to both our hearts – the sacred selfie – and it became something a bit more honest.

I’m glad of that, because I don’t tend towards streams of relatively unfiltered thoughts and feelings, and it was quite cathartic to write this little peice of my brain down for you all to share in.

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Why I love my #Selfie

A month or two ago on your average Saturday morning, The Boy and I were getting ready to go out somewhere thrilling like Sainsbury’s or Wilko’s. I’d done my hair and makeup, put on something pretty and took out my phone to snap a selfie.

Then The Boy looked over at me, rolled his eyes and said

“You’re so vain.”
“I’m not!”
“You’re always taking pictures of yourself.”
“Not because I’m vain.”
“Then why?”

– and that’s the killer question isn’t it? I’ve seen a fair few blog posts on selfies, lauding and condemning, and few tapping into the why of it all. When he asked me, I knew what the answer was, but I still had to sit and think for a second before I could answer honestly and with the right words.

I’m so pro-selfie. I think that putting yourself out there for the world to see is no small thing, and it should always be received with positivity.
Sometimes I hear that looking at other people’s pretty selfies makes someone feel worse about themselves, and that makes me so sad, especially when for me, it’s such a tool for the opposite.

It just makes me want to say: we’re all on the same side, ladies. We should celebrate each other’s talents, skills, beauty and all around fabulousness. We have to stop tearing each other down to feel better, or on the flip side, seeing someone looking great and feeling worse about ourselves in response.

I’m of the steadfast opinion that no-one can shame you down by being their special self. Someone showing off their height doesn’t make you shorter. Someone being beautiful, doesn’t make you uglier. It’s so hard to try and stop judging yourself against everyone else like a standard, I know, but it’s also unfair to expect people not to shine a light on their own awesomeness for fear of someone else feeling shitty in comparison.

I’m sure many people out there have their own reasons for taking their selfies, some very different from my own, but for me, personally, it pretty much comes down to self-consciousness.

When struggling with your self-image the last thing you want to see is yourself. You actively avoid mirrors and photographs. Taking selfies takes that fear and inverts it. It says this is me and I am beautiful. I am not afraid to photograph myself, to have that lasting image out there.
In the past decade I’ve gone from a sad teenage girl who physically averts her gaze from any reflective surface for fear of having to look at herself, to the positive woman I am now, readily – nay happily – snapping photos of myself and putting them online for everyone to see what I look like. Ten years ago that would have terrified me, because even I didn’t want to see what I looked like.

Taking regular selfies combats the insecurity that sometimes still eats away at my brain. It’s regularly reminding myself that I’m good enough. It means everyday I get more comfortable with what I look like. I’m proud of the progress I’ve made in the way that I look at myself, and selfies have been a big part of helping that progress along.

For me, a good portion of taking a selfie is saying, this is what I look like, and it is good. To look myself dead on and think positive thoughts. Putting that selfie online is I am proud of the way I look. See here, world, this is me, aren’t I fabulous?

Sometimes they never go online and I keep them just for me, as a memory.

To remind me that dress did not look frumpy and sack-like.

To remember that that very bold lipstick colour looked amazing, in case I ever have any doubts.

13941089_10154502260442022_523495384_nI have this one here of the first time I ever wore (or owned) a jumpsuit. Christa inspired me to get one with the way she always rocks hers, but I was so nervous to wear it I put it off for a whole month. When I plucked up the courage to don it, I snapped this selfie, to look back and remember that it did look good, for the next time I wanted to wear it but was too scared.

Bottom line: Let’s face it – who doesn’t like to see a picture of themselves looking great?

And to end relevantly, here are a million few of my recent selfies. Just because. (Though I must admit, my Instagram feed is being clogged up with pictures of kittens, rather than my face at the moment!)

Do you #selfie? Why? Why not?

Guest Post: She Just Might Be Out of Her Mind, Well She’s Got Baggage and It’s All the Emotional Kind

13697208_10153946965846026_8482657056586518980_nThis week’s Guest Post comes from one of the most beautiful writers I know. I’m not a fan solely for the stunning prose and vivid imagery conjured up by her words, I’m also a bit of a fan girl for the frank way in which Lydia speaks. She’s also incredibly inspiring when it comes to her inner strength and I hope she knows it.

Lydia and I met ‘doing nails’ at a short-lived salon in Brighton and although that never took off, I’m very grateful for the talented and interesting folk I met there, which of course includes this lady here. If you like what you read here, which you definitely will, go check her out on her own blog, Belle of the Bluegrass.

It is often said that you have to love yourself before you can love someone else. I don’t believe that’s particularly true, but what I do believe is that you can start to love yourself and become more relaxed in your body when someone else loves you. Learning to love yourself through someone else’s love of you.

We all have our insecurities and body hang ups, no one is fully content but being a plus size woman my body image comes under the scrutiny of strangers every time I step out of the house. I hear sniggers and whispers, catcalls and some incredibly confronting comments upon my appearance from people I have never met before. For some unknown reason society has deemed it almost acceptable for this behaviour to occur.

Over the past few years I have tried to take ownership and be happy in the body I have, finding inspiration and courage in the body positive communities of plus size women on social media. I have finally found women with bodies that represent me; looking amazing and doing incredible things. I’ll admit there is still a long way for us to go in changing people’s perception of us, whether that’s within the clothing industry or having TV and film recognising us as something other than just the ‘funny women’ and realising our potential as the sex symbol.

Throughout my life I have rarely sought the approval of others in anything I have done. Yet, when you label someone for long enough, even the strongest of us can start to believe it eventually. The mean words that get screamed at me in the street start to penetrate the force field I have tried to build around myself. And sometimes, if the blow is hard enough and hits just the right spot, a crack can appear. A chink in my armour. These words that I have had thrown at me over and over since the age of ten have taken their toll on my self-worth. Slipping in to my anxieties and seeping into the way I conduct myself daily, these aggressive mean-spirited narrations have altered me as a person.

It took me five months to gather the courage to meet my boyfriend, terrified that he would run away screaming on sight because I am not a conventional size. Of course he knew this before we met in person and my anxiety wasn’t allowing him the benefit of being a decent human and accepting me as me.

Until my early twenties the men I often encountered were still being governed by what their friends might think, regardless of how they actually felt. That coupled with my underlying force field traumas always left me in the role of the good friend. I stopped trying around men, I wasn’t interested in playing this weird game of snakes and ladders. I didn’t want to keep seeing them slide down snakes every time they realised my appearance, even if they liked it and liked me, wouldn’t be accepted by their peers. Living in that weird limbo just cracks the force field further and I didn’t have time for that.
But then this man entered my life unexpectedly. I wasn’t looking to be rejected by someone elses insecurities so I never even tried things like Tinder. This was just a photo sharing app I downloaded as a way to distract myself after my mother passed away. I posted a selfie, always knowing my best angles, you wouldn’t even know I was plus size, but he was still sweet and interested even after I told him.

Having my fleshy curves admired and my wobbly stomach kissed can work wonders for a girls confidence. The parts of me that I was only just coming to acknowledge are entirely accepted and honoured by this man. He is not embarrassed of me as I was myself, standing by my side and telling me that I am beautiful. I think stretch marks are bewitching; mermaid scales and secret silver streaked maps written across my body. I didn’t always feel that way, embarrassed by them when getting changed for P.E. and having other girls ask what they were. Whilst I desperately wanted to be like these confident plus size women I admired, it took seeing myself through his eyes to make me believe that it is possible. I feel less need to try and make myself smaller and apologise for my appearance. He tells me I am beautiful, unprompted, even when I am convinced I am looking my absolute worst. Feeling more at peace and less aware of the looks and whispers going on around me. I have seen my friend, who had her own body confidence issues, become more accepting of herself because of the way her boyfriend loves her.

I am not saying that my self-worth is reliant upon a man, because I don’t think anyone should be reliant upon someone else to feel worthy in this life. Sometimes though, it takes standing back and viewing something from a different angle to really allow you to appreciate the beauty. And with every kiss and sleep laced declaration of love, the insecurities I have had over the years become smaller, beginning to fade away. My nonconformist body is loved by this man and now, in turn, by me.

L

Goals – Six Month Check Up

It seems I saw out 2015 with much hope in my heart, setting some interesting personal challenges and then adding to them in early January. Since we’re half way through the year I thought it might be fun to recap and see where I’m at with those.

Instead of being all list-y, I’ll break this into lifestyle categories I think.

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Travel & Adventure

Well, I’m no closer to NYC but I have been up to the North! We stayed in a hotel so I think it counts. Seriously though, I don’t think there’ll be a foreign break this year as too much has come up for us financially but Glynn is taking driving lessons so there will be some adventure. TBH I’d be happy with a road trip just us at this stage. We’ll get more exotic when we can.

Work & Education

New job? Nope. But things are better so I’m much happier. I do crave more creative freedom but that’s okay, I feel my blog helps with that.

I haven’t signed up for the coding course yet but I am about to do an online Forensic Science and Profiling Diploma, because my obsession with true crime has obviously gone way too far! I’ve also picked up a sketch book and I’m looking to start a 10 week drawing class in September. So not bad on the extra-curricular front if I say it myself!

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Health & Well-being

I’m still going to the gym around 3-4 times a week and I can feel noticeable change in my hench-ness. I’m enjoying doing this for myself, with no motive other than wanting to feel stronger.

I think I’m doing better at not running myself down for not looking like other people. I try not to say derogatory things about myself. We all have low days though and on those days I stay away from mirrors and do nice things for myself until it passes.

General Life

I’m saying yes to more good stuff and no to more shit – and that feels bloody great. I don’t spend too much time with people I don’t care for and that feels even better.

I also feel like I’m getting better at the over-apologies. They’re born of insecurity and, for me, are a hangover from a bad relationship, so I’m happy to work on letting this characteristic go. I know in my heart I have nothing to be sorry for, ever and I have as much right to be present as any other fucker.

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Finances

Well, I’m not rich but I did pay off a large chunk of debt just after Christmas. I’m currently on a no-shopping ban too which is helping.

Look, I’m always going to have a bit too much of an interest in online shopping and there will always be good months and bad months but we’re doing okay. We’d love to buy somewhere in the next few years and that is going to require massive dedication and sacrifice, so I feel okay about being a bit free and easy at the moment.

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Self

I have been tattooed a couple of times in 2016, including my very favourite Wonder Woman tattoo which I realise I haven’t even photographed since it’s healed. I will try to do that properly soon. I’ve been reading more, been taking some fine #selfies and all in all I’m a happy lady.

I know I have to write more, I know sometimes I have a tendency to coast through life at a comfortable pace but generally I like life and the people in it. I’m lucky to have a good family and I’m in good health, so for now there’s nothing to really complain about.

~

There’s still time to make change and get better at my new hobbies, especially the drawing. I have a weird feeling there’s a distinct illustrative style buried within me and I just want to coax it out!

I think the sign off on this 6 month catch up is just to keep on keeping on. Which is what I intend to do.

How’re you guys doing? ❤

All images via Unsplash.

The Pursuit of Happiness: Hair

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Picture via Tumblr/Adele’s Instagram

I’ve decided to start my own Happiness campaign which sounds cheesy AF and it is but fuck knows I need it right now.

The concept of happiness to me is ever-changing. Every now and again, and don’t get me wrong I’m not miserable or sad as I type this, I just feel like I need a joy injection. Just a little something that delivers a swift shot of euphoria to keep me going.

This can be in the form of almost anything, from a new lipstick to three great days in a row at the gym (even one tbf). It can be a series of really good #selfies or a drinking session. The point is it doesn’t matter what it is but you’ll recognise it when you see it. Or more to the point, when you feel it.

So I’m going to spend this Summer exploring the things that make me happy. I’m going to start with this post on hair which is a hugely superficial sounding thing but is actually, in many ways, a much deeper topic to explore.

Wondering what the flip I’m going on about? It’s okay, that happens a lot round here. To hair!

I got my barnet cut off last weekend (image in that thumbnail over there on the right). Big fucking deal you might be thinking but I’ve been a long-haired lady for at least the last decade so bite me. I’ve been having it cut gradually shorter for the last couple of months but wasn’t happy with the overall effect (basically nobody noticed). This is likely because I was too scared to ask for what I actually wanted, something I am renowned for.

Eventually I got exactly what I wished for with a new (and amazing) hairdresser who just got me. It’s short man, and I bloody love it!

My husband does not. But that’s okay, it’s a shock to the system and essentially it grows out of my head so I get to choose. He’ll hopefully come round to how happy it makes me and deal with it.

I mean it’s not like he’s gone off me or anything but it has opened my eyes once again to men. The delicate feelings of poor overlooked and misunderstood men.

I’m not attacking my life partner per se but it’s a head of hair for fuck’s sake. Why shouldn’t a woman do what she wants with it? Why is the (mostly male) concept of femininity so wrapped up in the length of a woman’s hair?

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Forever my inspo but also for hair right now ❤

Femininity to me is so much more and sure, it’s hard to define but it’s more than just a hairstyle (and it’s not gender specific either, yo).

We can’t all waft about with Khaleesi locks and it’s okay. Neither could Daenerys if she was doing anything other than breaking chains and fucking about with dragons, she’d at least have it up in a jaunty pony out of the way. But still men expect us to look that way, like a ‘woman’ at all times, comfort be damned.

Truth is, my long hair was cool and all but it was hell and I never maintained it the way I ‘should’ have. It got badly tangled the closer I got to ‘trim’ time and it was humiliating to sit in a salon having someone comb out the knots for 20 minutes at a time. I felt like a horse and not a prize-winning stallion, let me tell you.

So I decided to change it, for maintenance and also to change it up. Looking through Facebook I’ve had the same do the entire time. I want to look cute as much as the next person – and now I think I do.

I look upon my new hair as a political statement (albeit a small one). One in the eye of the men who’ve asked me what I’ve done to my ‘lovely long locks’.

The Italian man in the Co-op whispered about it with his colleague as I perused the sandwiches for god’s sake. How about I’m not your property?

How about you ring up this Cheese & Pickle, my man and shut your damn mouth?

So yes, I’m looking into happiness on the whole. Who knows where it may take me? But for now, I feel great about my new look and can’t stop running my fingers through my glossy bob (or ‘lob’ = long bob). I’d say that’s a pretty good start.

What makes you happy? (You answer doesn’t have to be existential, it can be as basic as you like) ❤

Writing 101: Day 7 – Hook ’em with a Quote

Writing 101 – Day 7 (Tuesday 15th September 2015) – Hook ’em with a quote

Today’s assignment is pretty cool. Big fan of the written quote. But what to use and why? That is the question. My first instinct was to use this one:

“Comparison is the death of joy.” ~ Mark Twain

I like this quote because it’s so true, and I drop it a lot, although I thought it was the ‘thief of joy’.

Compare yourself to almost anybody else and you’ll find yourself lacking. “Oh god, look how much she’s achieved!”, you might cry as you look down on your own life; 37 years of absolute nothingness, despite the fact that someone, somewhere is probably envying something of yours.

I compare myself to people I know and love all the time and it has to stop. We’re already conditioned as women to compare ourselves unfavourably to models and actresses and minor soap stars, or anyone for that matter. If we didn’t, perhaps we wouldn’t be so insecure and then what? The beauty industry (and the rest) might topple to the ground.

Imagine if we loved ourselves without question and didn’t feel the need to eyeball every female within spitting distance (God, I hate that!). Which leads me to my second quote, inspired by this amazing image:

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“I really love me. I adore myself.” ~ Japanese artist, Yayoi Kusama*

That quote is everything. We can all pack up and go home, Yayoi has shut down the internet. Fucking outstanding isn’t it?

“I adore myself” is the mantra we should all chant in the mirror as we bodge up our winged liner/decide against brushing our hair/squeeze spots.

“I adore myself” is the tiny tattoo we should all have inked discreetly, or not so, about our person. I couldn’t love it, or her, more.

Then I thought of my ultimate favourite quote and I thought, why not, eh? It’s relevant to my current state of mind, and to my every day. So here it is:

“Out of the ash I rise with my red hair and I eat men like air.” ~ Sylvia Plath

giphyYas Queen! This couldn’t be more relevant to me if it tried. I’m still cross about an incident at work with an aggressive (and stupid) male and this rage is coursing through me like poison.

It probably wouldn’t be if it hadn’t been swept under the carpet and he wasn’t acting like nothing’s happened. I’m good at moving on when I’ve been able to get it out of my system but this pussy hasn’t even got the balls to apologise.

The thing is, I’m not exactly what you’d call an alpha female. I’m beta and absolutely fine with that. I genuinely believe for every leading lady (or man), there’s an equally as important Director of Photography, Sparky or Screenwriter. Not everybody can be bolshy. That doesn’t make betas weaker or any less important. I have strong opinions, I just know when to voice them and when not to waste my time on battles that don’t matter.

Strength comes in many forms and sometimes it’s just about getting up again and again, and getting on with it, rather than shouting as loud as you can. Still, every so often I fantasise about being more of a warrior. If I were, that pathetic tool at work would currently be a smoking pile of ashes. But, professionalism, innit.

And I’ve just realised that I’ve given you 3 for the price of 1. You’re welcome.

Happy Tuesday, all!

*Kusama also said this, which is wonderful:

One day I was looking at the red flower patterns of the tablecloth on a table, and when I looked up I saw the same pattern covering the ceiling, the windows and the walls, and finally all over the room, my body and the universe. I felt as if I had begun to self-obliterate, to revolve in the infinity of endless time and the absoluteness of space, and be reduced to nothingness. As I realized it was actually happening and not just in my imagination, I was frightened. I knew I had to run away lest I should be deprived of my life by the spell of the red flowers. I ran desperately up the stairs. The steps below me began to fall apart and I fell down the stairs straining my ankle.

Love Your #selfie

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Maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s Maybelline. It is Maybelline. And Rimmel, Max Factor, 17, Make Up Revolution, Bourjois… ❤

Sometimes you’ve just got to spend £27 in Superdrug on new make-up then come home and put it all on, despite having nowhere to go to show it off. I could find somewhere obviously, but Netflix.

I’ve been feeling pretty shitty about myself lately. I won’t lie, despite my vow to stop worrying about ageing, I still have the odd wobble. I sometimes look through pictures of myself, for instance and wonder if my eyelids have got extra baggy.

HOW PATHETIC.

Today I feel fucking fabulous* though, hence this picture of my moon face. I personally love the phenomenon of the #selfie. If a person is feeling amazing why the hell shouldn’t they share it? Yes, even the people who share 1,2,3 a day, even those in contorted positions, skimpy outfits – all.

All #selfies are beautiful because it means the taker is feeling great about themselves.

*My friend Panda says this when something is particularly fabulous, and when she bought herself a Mulberry handbag last year, she asked them to include a card saying “To Panda, you’re fucking fabulous”. They didn’t, but it’s still makes for a FF anecdote.