It’s 7 years since I registered with WordPress and started this whole journey. I can’t even think what I was up to 7 years ago, when I was a stupid little 17 year old.
I will have been at sixth form, studying Media, English etc at my school and I was probably with my first boyfriend at the time…gross.
According to Timehop, I tweeted “I feel like shit…oh..what’s new?” because I was so cryptic and borderline emo back then. I remember having the most ridiculous bob haircut which absolutely did not suit me no matter what my mum kept telling me so it’s no wonder I was feeling like shit. I used to wear nothing but plaid shirts and jeans, with knock-off Converse.
Okay, stop, stop, I don’t think I can talk about the embarrassing pre-18 year old that I was when I used to proclaim that I would never drink alcohol – hilarious – or that I would be with that boyfriend for the rest of my life – let’s not go there please.
I can’t wait to see where I am when my WordPress anniversary comes around next year. 2016 has been a barrel of utter shite, and hopefully 2017 will be a delightful improvement.
This whole year has forced me to embrace ‘the new Brittany’, so doesn’t it seem fitting that I should include a new blog theme in that process?
Totally different to anything I’ve ever had before, I’ve now got a massive header featuring a giant selfie of yours truly, and a couple of free stock photos that pretty up the rest of my bad quality pics.
ENJOY, and I promise, I seriously PROMISE to write more, I swear. (I’ll try).
On a sunny day in October, I packed up my room in York and escaped back to Leeds. Five years in the historic town definitely served me well but for one reason or another aka boys, it was absolutely time for me to go.
Moving back in with your parents is never easy, even when you get on as well as I do with mine. However, the turbulent teenage years are far behind us and at 23 (now 24) I had no worries about coming back home.
There’s always a sense of failure when you have to go home, even if it’s straight after uni. When you’ve lived for so long independently and all of a sudden you have to live under someone’s rules, go back to a single bed and sacrifice your personalised TV schedule.
Not only that, but if you haven’t lived in your old bedroom for a good few years, chances are the decor is not exactly to your current tastes…as was the case for me. I decided before I even stepped through the door that I was going to change it. The lilac flowers and mauve wooden dado rail had to go.
Step 1: Choose a wallpaper. This was far harder than it should have been, but it seems that wallpaper just isn’t the decoration of choice anymore. Options were limited and I almost considered just painting the whole thing. A huge DIY shop in town, however provided me with this gorgeous owl paper. I can’t get enough of it.
I love how light and bright it is, and it has really warmed up my room (not that it needed extra heat, but it certainly feels more homely.
Here are a series of pictures showing the (tiny) room going from a 13 year old’s lilac hue to a sophisticated single 24 year old’s room. Holy shit, I’m 24. Still can’t get over that.
For the last week me and the parents have been stripping wallpaper, painting and pasting. We’re redecorating my preteen bedroom and I’m so excited to share it with you! When it’s done, I’m going to write a nice big post with the progress that we’ve made with lots of photos.
Here is one of me looking super professional to give you an idea of what’s to come.
Be sure to check on my About Me page every now and then, as I frequently update the pictures! At the moment there’s about 13 on there and I try to make them as recent as possible because it’s amazing how much you can change in just a few months. For example, now I have decided to scrap contact lenses and wear glasses for the time being because I fell in love with my new specs (and I’m sick of having a bland face with invisible eyebrows).
You also get to spy pictures of my friends, but unfortunately they don’t all have blogs for you to stalk apart from Lisa, which you can find here (although its last update was 2012 – come on Lisa!)
It is wearing a ball gown while wading through the thickest waist-high mud for miles and miles
Needing to light a hundred feet tall candle with one little match and no ladder
A thousand bees inside a small, metal box with one coin-sized hole
Seeing the finish line before the starting gun goes off
Trying a particular lipstick and it changing into another shade by midday
Sticky notes that keep falling off the wall and disappearing between the floorboards
Your dad’s heavy denim jacket that you will never grow into
Turning the volume up as high as it will go and still straining to hear the music
Eating until you are full and still feeling like you are starving
Waiting for the knock on the door when you’re sitting in a meadow
It is reaching the other side of the bridge before you have set one foot on it to cross.
I always want to write, every minute of every day, and I always have ideas in my head. Ideas that might be big, and they might last for no longer than two seconds. They’re all still there, and they’re all very loud and blinding.
When they are small, it’s hard to justify the effort to put them onto paper.
And when they are big stories that are bouncing around in my head, that are so complicated, I would need to sit in silence for a week to even grasp them with both hands.
Sometimes there is no motivation to write anything, fictional or otherwise. Sometimes this site goes neglected and unloved for weeks at a time. And sometimes I can’t stop. Sometimes it’s unhealthy when I stay awake until the small hours, scribbling by lamplight.
All to often, the desire to write plagues me but my body refuses. Together, we make the decision not to pick up the pen and notebook. We can’t even use an app on the tablet. But the stories are there. The characters are screaming at me inside my head to let them out, but I can’t always release them.
I have never finished a project. Starting to write so young meant that my language was soft and poor. Looking at it now makes me cringe and I could never submit that anywhere, so it is added to the pile. I’m sure that pile is taller than me by now.
There is a colourful rush that comes with writing and a relief, as though eliminating a headache and making room in my head. I’ll never stop, no matter who comes along and degrades my work, because I write for me and no one else.
By recently perusing Twitter this morning, I saw a link posted to an article about a Venezuelan model who had undergone 20 plastic surgery procedures just to get the ‘perfect’ body. The 26 year old has a 20 inch waist and has had 4 breast enlargements, along with three bum implants to achieve her hourglass figure.
A lot of people view plastic surgery as one of the most negative things on the planet. In the name of vanity, people change the way they look, but does that necessarily change who they are? People go to extreme lengths to change their bodies – Aleira Avendano is one of them. She’s reported to have had all of her teeth removed and replaced with dentures, and to achieve her tiny waist has worn a corset for 7 years as well has having a gastric bypass.
Can she really be scrutinised for taking things this far? We all have things that we like. Some people spend thousands of pounds on clothing, computers, cars, even books. We spend endless amounts on holidays, technology and hobbies. What makes plastic surgery any different? It’s definitely painful and it can be argued that lots of people don’t need it. When you factor in happiness, however, it makes some sense.
A person who is unhappy with their body should not necessarily be judged by others and forced to continue to be unhappy. There is a lot of buzz around social media lately about letting people be who they want to be in regards to gender, or no gender. Those who change their lifestyle and identity to be happier and relevant to the person inside are on a similar wavelength to getting plastic surgery.
If a woman wants exceptionally large hips, let her have them, as long as she can still sit down and walk. If a man wants to enhance his lips and grow his hair, let him. If a person wants to shrink or grow their breasts, tuck their tummy, lift their face, let them. We live in a world where virtually anything is possible and people can look like who they want to be, who they feel like they are inside.
The issue of vanity is pretty huge, and relates a little to Selfie Culture, which has been a pressing topic online lately. The idea that someone wants to look beautiful is frowned upon and a lot of botched and excessive surgeries have resulted in that stereotypical look with which we’re all familiar, meaning that as soon as we hear the words plastic surgery, we cringe and think ‘why are you doing this to yourself?!’. So, is it too far when someone’s waist is only 20 inches? Is it pointless, even though she is now happier in herself? Is it absurd because not everyone does it and looking different is an abomination?
The pain aspect is difficult to understand. Why someone would put themselves through self-inflicted pain and medication for their looks is curious; however, seeing the end results (ie. the happiness on that person’s face) makes it worth it. That’s why they’re doing it, that’s why they’re putting themselves through this. The only question that remains is; where does it stop?
Winter is on its way in and I’m wearing the most snuggly thing that I own – a wooly poncho with a huge turtle neck. One of my favourite things about the colder months is wearing thick, warm jumpers and massive slippers, sometimes with fluffy socks on as well. (You’ve got to do when you’re living poor in a shared house where the heating is never turned on).
I love being able to get a coffee or hot chocolate from Starbucks without overheating and I love wearing gloves. I love having long hair in winter so I can snuggle in it (but it’s refusing to grow for me right now!) and I love my long, warm PJs.
Summer is great and all but my heart lies in the cold, where I can wrap up and my rosy cheeks aren’t necessarily out of place.