Is it a girls world?: Packing my heels and my heart.........

Is it a girls world?: Packing my heels and my heart.........: In our lives we have many significant relationships that help to define us and shape who we are. There are the relationships we have with ou...

Packing my heels and my heart.........

In our lives we have many significant relationships that help to define us and shape who we are. There are the relationships we have with our family and friends, the relationship we have with ourselves and for some of us the relationship we have with shopping! But there is another critical relationship that we have, that we often underestimate the importance of, the relationship we have with our homes. Our home is somewhere we escape to at the end of a difficult day, it holds our bed we cry in, the kitchen where friends meet to dry those tears and holds both our physical and emotional memories. 
During our late teens and twenties a home is a just a house as in 'house party', somewhere to meet up with friends and strangers alike as long as the vino is flowing. Student digs with damp walls and mould seem to be a rite of passage into adulthood that we must all adhere to. Walls hold posters of icons and films, the fridge is void of any solid food, except a block of cheese sporting a designer (faux) fur coat and even the ice cube trays are filled with vodka. No one cares that the curtains are filthy or that there are no curtains at all (I once lived in a house where newspaper was used to cover the windows!). Hoovers hide under the stairs broken, mattresses are thrown on the floor in an attempt to make make shift beds and the only bin that is ever used is the glass/tin can recycling one! Even in the few years after uni, houses just weren’t that important as long as it was near the town centre and there was enough space for your ever growing shoe collection. Who cared that the crockery didn’t match, the tea towels were filthy and the bathroom was never clean?

But somewhere in our mid twenties, around the time relationships become serious, employers start promoting us and week day nights are not so much of a party, our homes become important. Suddenly it matters the bathroom is squeaky clean, the curtains are up and match the decor of the room and that our mugs are clean (and without chips). After a long day at work nothing feels better any more than coming home to a clean kitchen (complete with a full fridge), settling on to a warm comfy sofa and sleeping in a proper bed. Weekends that were spent choosing the latest Jimmy Choo’s with a hangover are now spent browsing at Le Creuset and coordinating bedroom furniture, whilst sipping Starbucks. Scatter cushions become a matter of interest, feature walls are the discussions of lunch breaks and even the suggestion of a garden is muttered between friends.

But how does this all happen? How do we go from living in houses to having a home? Is it a sign of getting old and losing our young, fun loving selves? Or was it that maybe these home loving traits were always there as a secret yearning inside of us that we had managed to suppress? Or is turning into home makers something inevitable we will all succumb to at some point in our lives?

For me choosing which home to live in and how to decorate it is like finding the perfect pair of shoes. It has to be a perfect fit at the perfect price. A home should be like your favourite pair of jeans or your oldest, dearest friend – relaxing, comfortable, reassuring and makes you feel content. As I began to pack my bags this week in preparation for my impending move I reflected on the places I had lived, what they had meant to me and the memories made there. From student hovels, tiny one bed flats, house shares and beautiful four bed converted chapels I have certainly had many home affairs. Like all affairs though some have left me wanting more, some have made me cry and some have left me with happy memories that will last a life time. So, this time, as I pack up my heels and my heart for yet another house move I can’t help but start to feel a flicker of excitement mixed in with my sadness, after all every new apartment needs a new pair of shoes!

Is it a girls world?: Birkini Gate........

Is it a girls world?: Birkini Gate........: As we run around in our everyday lives with work, friends, family, child care and career commitments all pressing on us, we are constantly s...

Birkini Gate........

As we run around in our everyday lives with work, friends, family, child care and career commitments all pressing on us, we are constantly striving to be everything to everyone without much thought for ourselves. How many of us fall into bed at night closely hugging our Blackberry or iPhone, sending last minute emails for work, booking future plans on line or updating our diaries? How many lunch times a week do we actually sit and eat a meal? How many of us are using that one hour gap to squeeze in a gym session, complete extra work, see our child’s teacher or simply fit in the food shop? What happened to lunches at Yo Sushi whilst reading Vogue, looking for outfit inspiration for the weekend? Lunch times sat with friends laughing or a quiet, reflective stroll in the sunshine seem a million years ago. Some time ago, in a time when life was simple, lunches were for eating what you wanted without calorie counting, when appearing wrinkles weren’t happening quiet so quickly, 4.30pm on a Friday meant vino o’clock and the only time we referenced a muffin top was in the context of a bakery. With so much going on and the pressure of having to do it all it’s no wonder our lives, dreams and desires are in lost baggage whilst we arrive empty handed at the corner of Haggard Ave and Tired Lane. So sometimes ladies it takes something big to happen to reset the Sat Nav of life and point you back in the direction of yourself. These often take the form of someone else’s celebrations and puts us in to one of lives happy ‘yes’ situations. So like any of us over worked, under paid ladies when the opportunity to spend a day at a spa arose I could think of no better way to spend the day, visions of hot saunas, deep massages, giggles with the girls and yummy lunches swiftly filled my head. Before I knew it I was fully booked and paid up to not one but two spa days! Clearly all the fabulous people are hitting spa’s for their birthdays and hen weekends. As a loyal friend I am only happy to support friends wishes! And so the countdown began...

One Month Pre Booking

I tried on my bikini and was instantly horrified by my porridgy thighs, rolls of lard on my stomach and wobbly bingo wings. The diet started immediately when I realised that holding my stomach in all day wasn’t a realistic option, I also started shopping for a more flattering bikini a simple task really unless you are a size ten bottom and a 32DD top, in which case there is no hope unless you fancy a frumpy M&S tankini that even your own mother won’t wear.

Two Weeks Pre Booking

The diet had already hit a few little glitches in the form of the office bacon butty run, a birthday dinner at ASK and an entire box of Thorntons chocolates due to the wild throws of Madame PMT. Tried on a Baywatch esq swimsuit, convinced it made my already huge stomach expand and gave me a saggy cleavage. Tried on my bikini again, still as horrified with the results, clearly another tack was required. Motivation came in the form of an email on Facebook when it became abundantly clear I was going to be the biggest girl there by quite a long way. As delighted as I am to be going to a spa, it is totally my luck to be going with tall, slim super model types. I quickly dragged my fat bum back on the diet bandwagon and through in some more exercise for good measure.

One Night Pre Booking

Frantically doing sit ups  in an attempt to get my stomach from muffin top, where it clearly was to something that was a little more pancake (flat) like was becoming exhausting. I tried on the bikini for the final time and shamefully admitted defeat. Taking inspiration from Nigella I began to consider that the all in one birkini may be my only option at this point. Short of DIY lipo (I’m no good with needles, or blood and have quite an unsteady hand) I was going to have to accept my fat fate. In a feeble attempt to distract from the flab, cellulite and general lack of tone, I neatly painted all twenty nails, styled my hair in a tousled, steam friendly way and practised breathing in. Hopefully a pink lip stain will cover any blue lips from lack of oxygen.

Finally the big day arrived and I met all the other girls that had been invited. Within minutes I found myself in the changing room and the moment I had been dreading was finally here. As I took one last deep breath, I stepped out into the most beautiful spa.

As we sat in the steam room, relaxing (I had strategically placed a towel over my stomach/hip/thigh area, allowing myself a few more breaths!) I reflected on my feelings over the past few weeks and the extra stress I had put upon myself. I couldn’t help but giggle at myself, this was supposed to be a relaxing day, with me time and I had managed to turn it into another stress. Whilst I can’t honestly say I felt body confident, I could pick a thousand faults (couldn’t we all?) I can honestly say I had a wonderful time. The main fab thing about spa’s is that with all the treatments and chambers it’s hard to keep focused on all your self loathing. I didn’t leave the spa thinner or more toned but I did leave feeling so much more relaxed, having made new friends and with beautiful glowing skin.

xX

Is it a girls world?: Lover or Hater.....?

Is it a girls world?: Lover or Hater.....?: "So ladies, this week saw the arrival, for me, of the one day in the year that divides us ladies firmly into two camps, the lovers and the ha..."

Lover or Hater.....?

So ladies, this week saw the arrival, for me, of the one day in the year that divides us ladies firmly into two camps, the lovers and the haters. The day you either dread or adore. Some of us go to any lengths to avoid it, whilst others make it a month long event. Yep ladies, it was my birthday.

Now birthdays are a funny thing with us women, if you are in the haters camp, it’s yet another numbers game where the general trick is to defy father time himself in the race to stay young and beautiful. And what strong contenders we are. We have a developed emotional, physical and surgical ways to beat the ever ticking clock, yet ultimately we know we will never win. Time is always one step ahead, mocking us as we trip over our Manolo’s to try and win. How many of us lovingly slap on inches of lotion and potions twice a day just because Clinique or Creme de la Mer promises to make us look 10 years younger? Of course to get the desired effect we must buy into the cleanser, toner, moisturiser, eye crème, night serum, face mask and lip balm. Yes Jo Malone I’m talking about you and your consultant who kindly informed me that lip balm was a crucial part of my skin care routine to prevent me getting ‘any more’ wrinkles around my lips. Thanks for that! The irony is that as your visa shrinks deeper into your Cath Kidston bag at the cost of this time reversing skin care, it’s your face that pays the real price in wrinkles from the stress of being skint. What’s that you can hear? Oh yeah, that would be time giggling as it runs away again whilst plastering your face with yet another wrinkle and kicks your joints with another ache. If that doesn’t float your boat another option is surgery, the modern miracle of the nip and tuck program and a sure fire way to at least make it look life really has a rewind button. But how many people actually look any better for all that money, pain and effort. We only have to look at the likes of Heidi Montag who in one day had more than 20 separate procedures including a brow lift, nose job revision, boob job revision, botox, lipo on stomach and thighs, cheek and lip injections, ear pinning, chin reduction, neck lipo and butt augmentation to see the perils of such drastic action. But what really intrigues us all is the botox injection. Advertised as the lunch time cure for anti aging many of us thought all our prayers had been answered. Until we saw the results. I have to be honest, the first person that I met who had had botox didn’t initially tell me what she had had done and I must admit I wondered if she were socially inept or just rude. The lack of emotion on this persons face was eerily worrying and after one too many botox fixes her look was just pure shock! But for some women they just can’t let go of the past. Janice Dickenson has famously always been open about using plastic surgery to "hang onto what she's got." Which leads me on to the next issue, the mutton dressed as lamb brigade. We all know one who refuses to admit she is the other side of forty, insists on wearing her teenage daughter’s clothes and turning up at festivals, trying to relive her youth whilst wondering if her new tongue piercing has gone septic. The type that turns up at the opening of a club, not because she is genuinely interest  in the music but because it IT list will be there, and despite being at least twenty years older than everyone else still cannot hold her alcohol, being sick on vodka shots on the way home.

But what about the other camp, the lovers of all birthday excitement? The ladies who embrace each year with open arms, acknowledging that another laughter line is another memory made with people they love and every day that passes is another opportunity to live life to the full. These are the fun people who plan weekends away with the girls for milestone birthdays, who regardless of age can take up a new challenges both professionally and personally, who aren’t afraid to say yes to life.

As I joined friends and family on my birthday this year for celebrations I reflected on what really matters as we grow older. So this year, when I blew out the birthday candles, instead of wishing for a size zero waist, the two wrinkles around my left eye to disappear or Jimmy Choo to choose me as his muse (a girl can dream!) I hoped for laughter lines of memories, my joints to ache from all the things I have said yes to and it would be nice if the ASDA check out girl to ID me!

xX

Is it a girls world?: The Crossroads.......

Is it a girls world?: The Crossroads.......: "If we are lucky ladies, we can travel through our lives, happy with our lot, feeling we are reaching all our dreams. But often when we least..."

The Crossroads.......

If we are lucky ladies, we can travel through our lives, happy with our lot, feeling we are reaching all our dreams. But often when we least expect it we are suddenly bought to a screeching holt at an unexpected cross road. Maybe it's a redundancy from a dream job, maybe it’s the man of your dreams ending your relationship, a bereavement or a friendship being broken, but whatever the event it causes our lives to grind to a stop. As we sit dazed, reeling from the heart ache and upset we have been hit by, we find ourselves perched on the side lines of our own lives, and it can be hard to imagine how all your dreams went so very wrong. Sometimes we give too much, sometimes too much is taken from us and sometimes with all the best will in the world we just didn't see it coming.
This week, my life having unexpectedly slammed on at a new cross roads, I found myself in unfamiliar territory. As I gazed around looking for any signs of life I realised that I had inadvertently taken life's runaway train that had landed me and my Louboutins at the corner of Heartbroken Avenue and Lost Lane. As I gazed around trying to get my bearings I swiftly realised I was a long way from happiness and home. Like any girl worth her weight in vino, I started by dusting down my Whistles skirt, dabbing on the Touche Eclat, running the GHD's through my hair and adding a chic coat of Chanels long lasting lipstick in 'boy' (oh the irony!). Any girl in this position knows this is often the only way forward through a heartbreak. And forward we must go.....

Top Tips For Your Cross Road Arrival and Survival.

·         You are going to cry. A lot. Some times in public places. Always carry a clean kleenex and lay off the eye liner, panda eyes are just plain scary and your fab friends will not thank you for MAC's finest staining their new GAP basic white tee.

·         Tell people and talk. It genuinely helps and stops people spouting the most irritating line 'smile love, it might not happen' and it saves you from having to grit your teeth whilst mumbling through your tears that it already has.

·         Make like a diva and work those giant shades. Hey, if it works for Anna Wintour it can work for you. No one needs to see your giant bags under your eyes from all the crying and sleepless nights so keep 'em covered!

·         Despite what Bridget Jones says vodka and Chaka Khan are not a dignified answer.

·         The most important thing is to be kind to you. In time this pain will heal and in time you will laugh again. Sleep when you can, eat well and do things you enjoy.

·         Ivana Trump may have been onto something here. Gorgeous hair is the best revenge. No other revenge is ever needed, the karma bus will always come. Hopefully you will have a good seat for that particular show!

·         It’s hard to forget something that has given you so much remember, give those memories time to find a place in your heart but don’t live your life through them.

·         As Beyonce wisely sang – ‘after all the darkness and sadness still comes happiness, if I surround myself with positive things I gain prosperity.’

As we reflect on difficult times and the new challenges ahead of us it is important that we realise that we are often lucky enough to be surrounded by some of the most beautiful inspirational people in this world. It’s these people who hold us up when we fall, make us dinner when we are too upset to eat and make us strong when we feel we can’t take another step. So as I stand at my crossroads, older, wiser and in better shoes, trying to work the Sat Nav of life, I find myself taking a deep breath and humming a bit of old school Green Day – ‘It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right. I hope you had the time of your life’.

Is it a girls world?: Under Wear?

Is it a girls world?: Under Wear?: "Ladies – this week I have been thinking about two things, honesty and shopping. Now these are 2 things I value highly, both for myself and f..."

Under Wear?

Ladies – this week I have been thinking about two things, honesty and shopping. Now these are 2 things I value highly, both for myself and from others. I really believe that they should go hand in hand together, merrily skipping down the high street of life, laughing and joking like Thelma and Louise. Yet I find it a strange concept that in our own realities they rarely get on. Honesty and shopping are, to me, the Brad and Jen of the cosmopolitan universe in that they seem such a perfect couple but for some reason it just doesn’t work. So in the name of being honest about shopping I have to let you into a little secret. You may want to sit down for this one ladies. I hate bra shopping. There. I have said it, talk about the confessions of a shopaholic! I could happily shop all day for shoes (feet never have ‘fat’ days), make up (those clever cosmetic girls make us truly believe that we just cannot have the lipstick without the lip liner for a mere £24 extra, please don’t say it’s only me who buys into that?!) and bags (a Mulberry is a true investment that will go with everything. Amen.) But bra’s, they just stress me out, so when I looked down the other day, I realised with some horror that the time was upon me once more. I needed to go bra shopping. So with a heavy heart, I decided to bite the bullet, get measured, buy a bra and cross my fingers that I survive. It was at this point I realised all my normal bra’s were in the wash so I headed off to town in AllSaints jeans and an Abercrombie vest covering up this seasons latest Agent Provocateur. Not the greatest look and for those of you who have worn Miss P will fully understand the seat belt trauma that ensued!

The thing is, if we start at the beginning and look at it objectively the whole process is a lot less than female friendly. Debenhams have recently commissioned a survey that loudly announces to the world that a massive 80% of all us women are wearing the wrong size bra and are we women really that surprised? First there is the tedious and somewhat humiliating process of being measured. For most of us being trapped in a fitting room is some kind of bizarre torture, then add into the mix having to stand there in your bra whilst a women you have never met before whips out a tape measure to find out your vitals and this is all while she shouts your bra size (in her opinion) to her colleague who, by the loudness of the holler, could possibly be on a different floor, or maybe a different shop. By now, you, the measuring women, half of the store and your next door neighbour know your bra size. Being measured appealing yet to any one? So then comes the array of bra’s in your size for you to try on and this leads me to the next issue. Do you want a semi cup, demi cup, booster cup, padding, adjustable padding? The list and choice is endless, overwhelming and often impossible. Finally peace arrives when the lady and her tape measure wander off to harass some other poor women and your left with a pile of lingerie to try on most of which doesn’t fit/ looks like something your Nan would wear/ not practical for every day wear. After what feels like hours a winner is selected to be purchased and, if you anything like me, you purchase it in every colour available to avoid the inevitable trip back to buy subsequent bra’s. A quick wizz by the tills to pay and you have succeeded! A well fitting bra is all yours for just a few soul destroying hours, a kick in the old self esteem and a large wodge of cash (when did bra’s get so expensive?).

As I grabbed some sushi for lunch in the sun I reflected on this cringe worthy experience. It feels so out dated that in the 21^st century we have not found a better, slightly more reliable way of being measured and yet really, apart from the poor customer service, I have the whole experience much easier than some. I haven’t had to have a mastectomy (as 1 in every 10 women who have a breast cancer diagnosis do), I don’t have tubular breasts (as 1 in every 700 women do) and I do not have breast asymmetry. But I have people who I am close to in my life who do. So this blog is for all you gorgeous and very brave ladies who fight your breast battle every day of your lives. Let’s hope for your brighter boob day and a better way of being measure.

xX