today as I sobbed into my Grandma's arms over unimportant misunderstandings and sat down to dry my eyes as Dad explained what Milton Keynes was, I felt a little bit safer again.

i watched a video of dad spinning me round with his hands, me squealing like an excited piggy to altered images aged 2 in the living room. when he watched it he probably felt sad too that i am grown up now.

then i watched one of grandma. she picked me up and held me close and gave me a cuddle. she has been dead for 15 years and i didnt even remember her voice. i got as sad as ive been for a while but this time i cried.

then i fell asleep and dreamed earthquakes and swimming and shattered glass and deep baths.

but i also saw my friends back in cheshire floating around inside my head and when i opened my eyes i was at home.

Watching lulu on the tv just now, I got very annoyed. She was talking about the ways plastic surgery can ruin a face, without being capable of moving hers at all. She does look great for her age but seeing a multi millionaire with a great shape and great figure doesn’t mean anything to normal women with regular salaries. I don’t know what I want to do with my life but I am as good as certain it will never involve being rich, so to see a rich women looking great is worse than seeing poor people look terrible, because it shows that it is attainable. The possibility that a woman can look amazing at 50 exists, but only as long as you have a disposable fortune. This impossible goal is cruel, and can destroy self confidence if you use it in comparison with yourself.
What people really need to see is how realistic goals can be reached. This is the point at which I realised how blessed I am to have such great role models.

At my age, my mum definitely had a better figure than me. She lost it over the years, but always manages to look brilliant whatever she is wearing because she knows how to flatter herself, and accessorises with quirky jewellery without making it look like an overstatement. She has never dyed her hair so it looks great, and she doesn’t wear too much make up either, which works in her favour. My Grandma and Auntie on my Dads side of the family look impeccable for their age. Perhaps it is in part due to “good genes” but the fact that they eat well, sleep properly and exercise regularly has to have had some effect on it all. They don’t look “young” because they are not young. They just look great for their age. I don’t want to have a shiny, stretched face with no expression; I want wrinkles that show me as a real person with emotions.

My obsession with weight is embarrassing. After death, being fat is the thing I fear most, and I know that makes me a hideously shallow person. I am going to get old; that much is unavoidable (perhaps if nothing else it will bring some clarity) but the thought of spreading out absolutely terrifies me. Seeing the women on both sides of the family looking as well as they do gives me some confidence. I am blessed that the only things they have wanted me to change are my piercings and provocative clothes, both of which I grew out of on my own. They embraced me being an individual teenager, and always said “dare to be different” So I did. I can only imagine how horrible it would be to encounter adults trying to change how you looked and felt. I hear dreadful stories about mothers who tell girls with perfect figures to lose weight because of their own insecurities, and I hope if I have children I would have the backbone to love them no matter how they looked and not pass on any of my own hang-ups about self image, just the way my family have.

today is my half birthday,

the day i went to belgium last year and experienced one of the biggest learning curves of my life

and the day my parents started going out in their second year of university.

i went to bed at 4am and got a call at 5am telling me to go outside. i thought i was dreaming and went to look. my friend sam was stood outside the house with his bike wearing sunglasses. i invited him in and we had a little talk. i read the toon tellegen letter from the squirrel to the ant and then we went to sleep.

i had a dream last night that someone cut off my limbs and i was going to die, and a man took me in his arms and kissed me. i cried and said "thank you for making me feel less undesirable." i told my friends i was cross that i couldnt think of a poem to say as my final words and we all laughed.

my housemate took me into her room today to show me a lilac clockwork bunny with chicken feet called mr. easter... this wasnt a dream.

night night turn out the light one two three

i feel safe when i pay to get a taxi instead of walking home after a late shift,
when i bolt the door twice,
and when my friend tom gives me a great big silly hug.

but sometimes i feel really weak and stupid and wish i had someone to ask me what is the matter? and tell me things will be fine even if they wont just to give me a bit of courage, and then tuck me up in bed and turn the light out.

i was scared of the dark until i was about 18 years old.

my room was like a circus with cheap and cheerful lava lamps, disco lights and spinning UFOs illuminating it all hours... it used to drive my parents mad.

my mum and dad knew i was a bit nervous about having a dark room when i was younger so they used to leave the door wide open with the landing light on, and the last thing they used to say as they left the room was

night night turn out the light, one two three!

and when i was making a cup of tea before i realised how much i missed that.

everything is temporary

im so lazy with my addictions.

at this moment in time it is hard to imagine a time when i didnt go more than 24 hours without a drink (i rarely find time to drink now)
but it is equally hard to remember how on earth i gave up smoking last year.

i have given up three times this year already, and i know it is better to be healthy and miss it, but right now i dont have time to go outside and forget myself by running through the meadows or drinking in the streets.

smoking on a rainy doorstep is my only current getaway. momentarily it substitutes being around everyone in the picture.


i long for a time when i can holiday again,

i want ghent 2009 back,

i want to play in paris,

i want to surf in cornwall.
The other day i noticed that i am rarely homesick for cheshire anymore and i think this is because the time when i leave leicester for good to go back there temporarily is shrinking right before my eyes so now i am trying to hold on very tightly to something which i spent a lot of time over the summer trying to escape. funny, that.

i would like christmas to hurry back soon...

the trick is to keep breathing

today i noticed my first wrinkles. they are on my forehead, which assumes that i have been very surprised for a 21 year old. regardless, wrinkles mean that your body is tattooing you with the notion that you have had a lot of a useful emotion... why cover that over with a blank stare?

i wear very little makeup these days.
most of the attractive women over 40 that i have the pleasure of knowing do not wear much makeup and they look better for it.... better than they believe they look. most of the girls my own age look best first thing in the morning and dont believe this either.

i know my appearence is all downhill from here. i struggle daily with my weight to the point where i am given embarrassing labels and the girls around me always look far more beautiful than i do, effortlessley.

the least i can do is make sure i dont look pretend.

selfish

all i want for christmas

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQH7972wAj6wkdHs0BkOSJG5DpqSUMSTCntgOk_3mRdRWzKItofkABF8zU-1f5bRrZ91A7RHgkiY5W-BvR3udMADcXdvGDc7EXwxK0eGtt5g4P_3SzTX3zkdYgErSKLn23zc2GMNov48Ur/s320/Sainsbury

and cheshire.


and secretley to be thin, world wide web.

if but hopefully

when i have children i will smack them when they are ridiculous but also make sure they have an imagination, manners, 5 portions of fruit and vegetables a day and absences from school for (only partially) educational days out.

the rest will have to weave itself i guess.

fastwind

i have spent years developing an interchangeable, fluid skin which both rips and thickens in odd layers at its own unpredictable discretion.

as i grow up, responsibility quietly compromises all of my dreams and sprinkles pessimism everywhere.

i boringly observe everything around me and only find any truth in nature.
the longer i spend around people my own age, the more i like my parents.

on some old cassette players, when you hit fast forward and rewind at the same time, they would become stuck and made a horrible repetetive clicking noise until you hit down harder on one button to put the other out of its misery.

i love useless self indulgent metaphors, they behave like laxatives.

ten hours

during this time i had a kitten biting my feet non stop for a ridiculously long time, and i hugged my dad so hard, crying uncontrollably to him that i was so happy to finally be home.

then i woke up.

halfway to 42

castle
500 steps
is it just me or is everything shit?
bike lock
teapot
sparkles
rum rum rum rum rum
new dresses
french boy
dub step
jammin
freezing piggybacks
walks of shame
touchable bubbles
glowing balloons
family
dog toy
crayons
rainbows
hamster bedding
singing for a day
hangovers
confusion
overdoing it
quorn cocktail sausages
sweeping pommygranitzz
crown
mocking peacocks
carlsberg
lots more carlsberg
absolutley fabulous
too much bling
too many hats
cake
hilarious meals
spinning rooms
stamps everywhere
mix and match friends
media
glittery cards
second hand camera
97 loveloves
hugs
free blue juice
pocahontas
eat natural bars
diet coke
bikes rabbits roses
ruby slippers
trauma
bed wetting
i have never
talking to everyone
gone hips
ann summers costumes
surprises
blisters
stir fry in bed
mock champers
lipstick everywhere



thank you thank you thank you

scent

i held a skirt which belonged to my grandma who has been dead for over ten years and it felt as though she was alive again for a few seconds.

location location location

psychogeography is where it's at.