Body image.

I am repulsed by the cliche that thick girls are real women. This inverted snobbery is repellant, all women are real women.

It doesn't matter what size a person is, but some people are stunning enough to pull off being wobbly and lovely, and I mean hats off to them. Some girls look better with great big boobies and killer thighs. Slim girls have different advantages. My point is this, I know that skinny does not mean beautiful, but neither does fat. Fatties unite to reassure each other they are the body type that honest men and women prefer. This is simply not true, honest people prefer beauty. Thank fuck beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as we don't all want the same thing.

xoxo

The preposterous bollocks of it all.

People's insecurities have done nothing but distract me lately. Had I not recently experienced a rather abrupt emotional upheaval I might be a little more considerate, but as I went to great lengths to preserve my dignity and not burden others with my twisted issues I feel it rude of everyone who cannot deal with their own shit.

All I ask for is this - leave your selfish ego at home where it belongs and force your real personality out to shine. Stop pretending to be polite and just be fucking decent. It's not hard.

Come on now.

Gel Liner.

As a novice in make up I rarely branch out to try new products, mostly due to a lack of confidence as I will end up misusing it and make my face look even worse. I have but one evening look which highlights my features but I whack on a heavy flick of black eyeliner. I've had a few different types of liner, one was even like a felt tip pen, but my tried and tested staple was a Rimmel liquid one with the tiniest pin point brush. Great for perfectionists. Unusual that I would master this type of brush when I can't even apply eyeshadow properly.

Imagine my distress when I couldn't find it. I was getting ready a few weeks ago and it wasn't anywhere. I upturned my whole room, boxes, drawers, bags, the lot. I had to drink the whole bottle of wine just to stay calm. It was a dark hour for me. I still shudder to think that I actually went out in public with pencil liner on my lids. If you can apply this properly, then hats off to you, but I doubt my skills with it. Not to mention the dreaded 'double eyebrow' effect it can cause. You know what I mean, when your eye liner transfers onto your upper eyelid? How scruffy.

I bought a new liquid liner from MUA's range but it just didn't cut it. Despite applying it to bare skin and foundation alike it didn't seem very substantial. It was like using oil paints on grease proof paper, little beads of black liquid would form on my skin and not actually stick. When I could make a decent shape on my eye it would peel off like a mask as soon as I moved my face. Awful.

I ended up in Boots staring at the Maybelline Gel Liner a few days later. I've always thought they were difficult to apply, expecting the gel to be slippy. I took the plunge and for a fair £7.99 I'm glad I did. It is easy to use! The long thin brush featured is included and is ideal for precision. The gel isn't slippy at all, it is quite textured not unlike a dense mousse. Wait a minute or two after application and you'll benefit from the non-transfer effect (my biggest grudge). This is amazing.

I'm converted.

 

 

 

 

xoxo

Sky blue Vans.

I hadn't planned on becoming a sneaker junkie, but perhaps it was inevitable. Not wanting to utterly trash my white Converse, I planned on buying some unimportant daps to take the falls of everyday muck and grime. Every shop I went in offered little inspiration to settle my need for decent shoes. I found myself in Schuh, trying on various expensive trainers. My favourites were these babies and black Nike high-top Blazers. The Blazers were possibly the most comfortable thing I have ever put on my feet, but for a suprising £70 I was willing to let them out of my sight. When it comes to Classic Vans you are presented with such an array of colours to chose from it seems like a life or death decision. Not wanting to appear a scruffy teen, I avoided the usual purples, animal prints and glitter options, despite the bum in me raging to show off. Anyway, say hello to my new kicks.

 

 

xoxo

Happy 25th Birthday, Fi.

Our amazing Fi suffered the emotional massacre of turning 25, a quarter of a century in her own words. Must we be so fixed on age? I would try and talk her out of it but I nearly had a melt down at the idea of turning 24 last summer and I don't blame her. It's not getting old, it's realising that your life is flashing before your eyes. I guess you have to take it as a personal reminder to make the most of what you have. Suddenly, we're young adults in our mid twenties and it knocks the wind out of you.

For the first time I can remember, I spaced out my camera. I completely forgot to charge the battery before I left and it was so low it couldn't even muster one shot. I had to use my phone so sadly most of the photos aren't great quality.

 

We headed to Las Iguanas on Mill Lane for dinner and drinks. I'd never been there before and I was briefly impressed at their prices, I'd expected to pay a lot more than £6.20 for the strongest cocktail I've ever had and £8.20 for a giant plate of food (mushroom burrito). Our table was quite big with 16 of us and we had most of the surrounding tables hooting with applause after a racous round of 'happy birthday'. My cocktail was a 'tequila berry smash' made of tequila, ice, fresh mint and rasberry coulis. I was smashed. It was great.

 



 

Half of us ended up Revolution which was quite busy. I don't know how we ended up snagging a circular booth but it provided a stable platform for shots and our new game - FIT/NOT FIT. The game revolves around people watching (the basis of any good friendship) and with intended discretion you deem passing strangers as attractive or gruesome, depending on how enthusiastic your screams. It is not gender specific, for example as a straight girl I am not exempt from judging other girls. Couple the game with heavy doses of even more tequila (two shots every time I went to the bar to go with my Jammy Bastard cocktail) and it makes for one happy Jillie. Despite even drinking coloured vodka shots (my worst sober nightmare) I made it home in one piece, even managing to remove my make up, place all of my clothes in the washing basket, find clean pyjamas and have a coffee at half three in the morning.

 

xoxo

Happy Feet.

 

Happy feet indeed! On Thursday my trusty red Vans died an honourable death. Well, the original version included a bit of swearing because after a day at work I went to change my shoes but I found that they'd broken from overuse and I was a bit annoyed.

Lucky headed in my direction and I was in black on the ATM. I was going to wait to buy these, but then my shoes broke so I guess it was meant to be. By the end of my shift at work today they were ready for collection! I'm absolutely in love with them. What a poser!

 

 

 

 

I'm a bit concerned about getting them dirty though, was I mad to buy white? Hmm.

I also ordered a pair of bleach denim vans lookalikes from Next (link) for everyday but they're really narrow so I need to exchange them for another size. I still love them though!

 

 

xoxo

Hippy chic.

My latest Primark haul was a good one. Besides my new favourite footwear, I swiped this aztec rucksack for only £9. I know that the stores are mostly stocked with useless and poorly made garbage, but if you are patient and have a keen eye it pays off. Literally.

I rarely have moments in shops when I feel I can't leave without buying a must have piece, but this was such an occasion. As I was travelling down the escalator I spotted this beauty across the room. I'm so pleased I bought this, as it has become my new everyday bag.

 

 



 xoxo

Jeepers Creepers.

I have been interested in these for some time now. I rarely choose statement pieces that suit me as I am oblivious to my own body shape, I plan outfits in my minds eye and the reality isn't always how I pictured it. How smug I was when I found these creepers in Primark for £12. If they were a mistake and make me look ridiculous then at least I haven't broke the bank. To my delight, I love them. They are quirky, flattering on the ankle (nothing short of a miracle), comfy and they seem to go with plenty of outfits. Following my first success I expect to have a new pair, perhaps a more elaborate style, when my next pay day rolls around. Thank you to Jenny at The Pulse Of Fashion for your inspiration!

 

 

xoxo

Beauty base zero.

I'm not a fan of modifying my own body beyond recognition. Plastic surgery and fake additions have never had an enormous appeal. A few little pieces of body decoration seem harmless, tattoos and piercings, but nothing extreme. Ink takes commitment, piercings are an expression. But fake hair, fake body parts, fake face, fake nails? No thank you. I'm more interested in beauty base zero (a term I came across while reading the Hunger Games). Scrubbing off any nasty dead skin, cleaning and shaping nails, cutting any split ends off your hair, tidy eyebrows, clean, moisturised skin. Stick to this ritual matched with a healthy diet of a few pints of water (minimum) each day and plenty of sleep and I believe the world is a better place. I see no harm in playing around with make up and hair dye. This will eventually wash off leaving the body barely untouched. Our clever bodies are disgarding cells and creating new ones faster than we care to imagine, so I see it in my best interest to look after what I have, pave the way for new cells to cocreate in harmony. I'm clearly stuck in limbo between two beauty worlds, and my point it this. Shouldn't we celebrate who we are as individuals instead of morphing ourselves into unrecognisable creatures? Look after our bodies and from a place of joy decorate ourselves in a manner that illuminates our true potential, instead of hiding behind masks and out of fear changing ourselves to a misguided level of conformity? Beauty, like all aspects of life should be approached with a positive frame of mind. Not as a means to conceal discontent.

Now, where's my nail varnish?

xoxo

 

Lent.

Wednesday 13th February - Saturday 30th March.

 

 

I wasn't raised with religion, but taught to at least appreciate it. I think in the UK christianity has leaked into the lives of even the least religious families and so this spring I will be taking part in Lent. This period is reserved for remembering the 40 days and nights when Jesus was in the desert, then captured by the Romans, crucified and then his resurrection. Christian communities recognise this suffering by giving up luxuries, penance and paying alms. Churches strip their lavish decorations.

 

As serious as this can all sound, many people choose to take part as some kind of social detox. Januray can be a cruel month, Christmas left overs still hanging around waiting to be eaten, the weather is still grey, no more pretty fairy lights to brighten up our lives, we all need treats and goodies to cheer us up. So it is easy to understand the appeal of a fresh start.

I know a girl who is a casual shopaholic who gave up shopping for Lent a few years back.

I knew a guy who gave up smoking for Lent and when Easter came, he didn't restart his habit.

A fellow blogger is attempting to give up unrefined sugar and processed foods.

 

I have done the unthinkable and I have given up the mother of all vices. CHOCOLATE.

Yes, I have decided to have a chocolate detox. No chocolate from today until Easter Sunday, that's 31st March. That's 46 days.

At 11.58pm last night I was cramming one last chocolate hobnob in my face. Sigh.

There isn't any chocolate in the house, so all I have to do is avoid it when I'm out. With a very convenient vending machine in work it might be a struggle. I guess I can just head to the nearest mirror and take a good look at my wobbly bits for motivation. That usually works.

Bring on the withdrawal symptoms.

 

xoxo