Last week, probably edging on two weeks ago now, I was thrilled because I could fit into a pair of jeans that I couldn’t get past my thighs a couple of months ago.
I’d been rummaging amongst my pile of trousers – must organise those – searching for a pair of denims without rips and holes, and found what I assumed were my black work jeans. Faded from too many washes and not designed for long people with wide hips; require pulling up belt or no belt all f**king day.
But they went straight up past my hips, right up to the waist. Button up. These weren’t the same jeans at all; these were the £20-ers that had been banished to the corner of the wardrobe because their not fitting obviously wasn’t my fault. And here they were just gliding up those thunder thighs like they hadn’t previously caused such a fuss. Hallelujah. (more…)
Hello hi there I’d like to talk about the Pill today. Approaching 25 I have only just learned what I’d consider to be vital information about the contraceptive pill, and ja darling I could have looked it all up a long time ago, but I’m kinda pissed off that when I joined the club at 17, the only fillers I was given was that I should still use condoms, I might gain weight and I must take the pill at the same time every day.
The cancer risk rumours, the oomph in anxiety theories and the by-the-way-you-might-not-actually-feel-like-having-sex-at-all-now-that-you’re-on-this-thing-that-was-supposed-to-make-your-sex-life-easier hush hush that nooooobody mentioned, was all just information that sporadically swam my way throughout my 7 years on the Pill.
In fact, over the 7 years I made perhaps only two repeat prescriptions that required me to check in with a nurse about how my Pill of choice was working for me. At 17 I’d actually started taking it cause I would get such horrendous cramps that I’d have to adopt the fetal position clasping a hot water bottle for two days every month.
I was very lucky. I gained no extra weight and I didn’t think I had any problems with the first Pill I was put on, so Cilest and I formed a long friendship. She also gave me really good skin. What a babe.
When I was younger and sitting in the doctor’s office awaiting my repeat prescription and the nurse asked how it was working for me, the idea of whether I felt anxious or tired or cranky or completely not horny at all didn’t enter my mind. I haven’t gotten pregnant yet, Debra, so I’d say it was working pretty well.
But how, actually, was it working for me? (more…)
January always seems to arrive with an element of forcefulness, no? Like if you f**k it up in January, pardon my French, then you may as well postpone positive attitudes for the next eleven months. It’s too late! Diet will have to start next year!
The first month of the year comes with an overwhelming amount of must-do, should-do, haven’t-done, if you let it. How many resolutions have you not stuck to yet? I have been a typical January slacker the last couple of weeks, having stuck primarily to the resolutions with an element of fun rather than actual hard work.
Trying plenty of new restaurants? Tick!
Planning my theatre trips for the entire year? Tick!
Working out on a more regular basis? Surprisingly, tick tick!
Studying two nights a week? Ahem…
Refraining from expanding lingerie collection? …
Not going anywhere near boys who are bad for me? That, if you are curious, is harder than writing a book, and given that book writing is my most prioritised resolution of the year, I am doing a much more thorough job of anything else than I am of putting pen to paper. (more…)
When I thought about blogging about how important some peace and quiet away from the glorified busyness, the daily he-said-she-said and the never-ending whirl of technology is, I hadn’t assumed I’d be typing away in the Notes of my computer because I have no power and therefore no Wifi, while I sit alone in the dark at home with only three candles for light and a fire for warmth, praying that my phone won’t die and thus cut me off from all human contact. Which, ironically, is what I craved so badly two days ago.
Taking it slightly too literally.
What is one supposed to do in the dark?
Where’s a good man when you need one?
Why didn’t I charge my phone?
Or my vibrator.
Knew I should have dried my hair. If you don’t blow dry the fringe within 30 minutes it goes all Donald Trump on a good day. (more…)
It seems the older you get, the less you seem to sit around discussing your sex life and the people that are getting on your nerves this week, and the more you seem to talk about actual life. You talk more seriously about your latest attempts at cooking healthy meals, you discuss your next career moves with the openness for others’ opinions and you chat about how you are really genuinely attempting to be a better version of yourself in a way that would make your 18 year-old self quite sick.
And you do all of this while sipping wine that you’ve chosen for taste because somehow you’ve acquired basic knowledge and actually enjoy it now, with awareness that you won’t drink too much because you have work early tomorrow. At the end of the night, you all get out your planners to arrange the best date for your next get together. You all have planners. Because you are getting older.
You really do want to be better at being you now. You want to take care of yourself and feel consistently productive and progressive. You care much less about going out every night, and care much more about improving yourself every day. (more…)