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..."